Strum

I wear music
In notes you'll never
See.

Or notes
Perhaps, that you could have
Tasted.

But chose not to.

And so I shall touch
That soaring pitch
And watch you fall

Fall once more
In love, listening
To the colours you
Think you've painted me in...

And all the while
I wear the music
That my fingers strum
On chords taut with pain. 

23 April, 2014
Online, when music moves and words blur;
All because of a song. Thanks to Dan Drake, who who shared this song

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=psiILfa-G1c&feature=kp

I know. It IS absurd. I've even tagged it so. 

Stumbling into Sense

Living on the edge -
Is hardly the way.

So you tell me.

Constant thoughts of flight
Will always gnaw at roots.

Honestly. Honestly?

I shall always wonder, you know,
Why you deem it necessary
That I'd need instruction
To function. 

Indeed. Seriously. 

I've always, but always
Been that fully capable, you see
On my own steam

To stumble
To fall
To then rise.

No, I am not phenomenal.

But. Yes. 

I always will make

Sense. 

For myself. 

P. S. In case you wondered:

That is all I need to do. 

(Forgive me if I don't thank you. )

25 August, 2013

Sentinel

The mute appeal of her cry
Would never reach his ear
Would he perhaps, yet, open that eye?
He may, perchance, happen upon
His own tragedy, in her cry.

She stood that distance away
Measuring the miles of silence
That grew each day;
Wishing with all her heart
They could traverse its
Deceitful, beckoning charm.
Silence, that evoked
A hundred different tunes
Of losing, of hoping,
Of being bewitched
So true, that she almost gasped. 

Did he hear that?
Was he listening?
She hoped, she so hoped
With all her heart
He wasn't. 

That silence was her sentinel.

Nothing, ever, should lay
Open, her vulnerable heart. 

Her eyes drew back their touch.
And her voice no longer
Coloured the trails, the wisps
Of their togetherness. 

She walked, alone, proud. 

She became her silence.
She became that sentinel. 

7 August, 2013

Togetherness

Togetherness was never an option.
It was the only choice;
One we never had.
The skittering glances
And on-the-edge anticipation
That rued the days

Together, we are.

But, not with each other.

13 July, 2013
Pic Courtesy Google Image Search

Second Chances

If you've ever been told
Winning isn't everything,
Winner or not,
You'd have probably scowled :D

So where does winning take you?
To fame? Throw you up to gut screeching joy?
Or gloat and brag and preen?
Perhaps line your purse
Or maybe help you hitch that ride onward?

I know the best thing about it
(Errrm... not winning ie)
Is you get another shot at it.. :)
You're lucky, you know
You get to do it differently.
You get to say things you never would have.
You get to find yourself.

Yes, winning is good.
But if you don't, maybe
You'll get that other chance.
And boy! Second Chances matter.

Go on, and take that chance.
Believe. It's a miracle waiting to happen :)

8 April, 2013, online
Sashu's Update on FB, which read: "Always, always believe in second chances. It could be the best thing you'd ever do - for others as well as for yourself. :)" is the reason for this ramble :)
 

Clichés

To the rapt fifty, that day
(Or was it forty-eight?)
I ranted. 

When I rant
They need to be rapt!
Or else... :P
The ogre, you see, is at work!

I, as usual, on my soapbox-
About clichés -
In speeches, in essays
In letters, in e-mails
They'd need to write
For me to evaluate. 

Class Eight.
Writing tasks :D
Now you'd be a-thinking-
This here lady's really
Got a nut loose.
Clichés, and Class Eight?

Well, yes. I did.
They listened. They giggled.
I swear I even heard some snorting too! :P
In the next fifteen minutes
I had to be done. Just in time I did.
They were saved, by the bell! :P

And so, I forgot, as I suppose, they did too. 

Till.
Ta-da! Surprise!
Exams time, and papers galore
(That, incidentally, is where I'm at :P )
Some neat, some spidery
Some short, some too darned lengthy!
Some diatribes, some earnest
Some irreverent, some irascible 

And some - God help me!
To wake me from the stupor
of the overdose of the work-
For, I spy ...

Cliché.! I jump. I cheer.
I look again. Ooooh yes!
Right along there - c l i c h e’
That dashing tiny accent too, to boot!
I have never been more blessed! :P

Never mind that the child wrote:
I quote:
"It's a cliché to say speeches like this"
Unquote
About the topic; and put me well in my place!
I do this fist pumping grunt of satisfaction.
I accept that criticism.
And I do that clichéd thingy.

I write a ramble.
This a-way.

Clichés are good.

23 March, 2013.
A 'eureka' moment :D

Pic: Courtesy Google Image Search :)

Secrets

Secrets to keep
And some to share
Many to tell
But none to hear

Secrets blossoming
Each day, within, without
Some haunt; some are hunted

Tall tales, and short jabs
Some Spicy and
Some just plain ol' drab
No matter what the flavour-
Can you resist even one?

Secrets, they damn-
And they sometimes do more harm
Than good, if you ever saw any in 'em!

You've got yours
I know,
For, I sure have mine!

So, I'll tell you one
If you tell me another
Let's make it one, together
Or maybe, take a bit farther?

Or let's just secret it away
Till it burgeons, and spills
And let's itself out;
For that is it's nature

Secrets are to hide,
And then to tell
Then to spread
Till finally, back at you, it heads!

You know then-
You should have kept it
A secret!

 March 2013
Online, but of course, and getting crazier by the day :P
Image Courtesy: Google Image Search on 'Secret' :P

So, today ...

... bang in the middle of the day
I wait for those words, lurking
Just there. Just there.
Where I cannot reach.

They came, with the waking moment.
That moment, when you are, and you aren't.
That moment, when clarity strikes.
And fuzzy warmth of slow recognition
Mists over.

I reached out. Too late...
Like petulant children, they shied away.
That moment is when they wanted me.
Not two ticks later.

So here, in the middle of the day
I sit. I yearn. I plead. I know though
They won't surface now.
I also know when they will. :)

Not now. But at that moment,
When I turn away, peeking like those
Perky persistently playful creatures they are.
Not words. Not anymore.

They've grown beyond that
Into a yearning. Into a secret pleasure.

I don't know the story yet.
Or the ending.
All I have, are these tingles
These feathery-touch-me-softly promises
From them.

They'll come.
They'd better.

... They ought to.

They will, won't they?

14 February, 2013

Google images brought me to this pic. ... from this place:
http://clairemca.wordpress.com/2012/05/07/a-love-of-words-and-music/
The picture belongs to its creator there.

Twinkle Toes :D

Life's too short..
And there's only a rainbow
After it rains;

So why do you still want
To be a wallflower
Dying to turn to the Sun
And gaily toss your pert little 
Beautiful head, 
Giggle away, and forget
Your nerves... :)

You've got twinkle toes,
You have...
Didn't you just see?

And don't you worry
You'll find them again
When your eyes twinkle too
On that special day,
You bring home love :)

All I shall say now is...
Get on it, Girl!
My twinkle toes are tapping too!
Impatiently, I might add
To do that two-step
Or just let my hair down...
In all those steps... :D

So here's to us
And here's to fun
And here's to all of you
Who love your
Twinkle Toes... :)

10 February, 2013

Post-Reception where Omana and I had a great time :D
And plotted for the next time we would :D
(Sadly the pic to go with this one will have to wait :) )

Sepia

That would be the colour of my life.
Sepia. The pages I mean. 
The pages wrinkled, frayed around the edges.
Much thumbed. 
Vulnerable words hedging inwards.
Going back is a given. 
Living in what has been
Yearning for what would be.

Passion lurks, unbidden. 
Belonging, unwavering. 
Inconsolable grief, it form scabs,
Over healing wounds. Slowly.

You hold that book now.
Containing the pages of my life.
Do you see what I mean?
Those words, those lines-
Concealing more than meaning.

I wish I could edit them.
Those words, I mean. 
Find grace in simple stories
I once lived. 
I cannot touch them now, though. 
But of course. 

Still, the rainbow that my life is
Can never be muted:
Even if it be Sepia, in yours.

28 September 2012
Online
(Inspired entirely by the topic for Versification given at school, "Pages of my life" :D)

Other personal Sepia favourites:
Sepia Dreams
Beyond Sepia Dreams

Piquant

Piquant

Edgy. 

Tangy. 

Burgeoning with 

Unvalidated, irreverent

emotion. 

Gladdened by notions.

Weighed down by fullnesses.

Bound by the limitlessnesses

Of unexplored possibilities. 

I remain. 

As always,

Piqued

By life. 

10 June, 2012

Lesson

Disappointment has a rancid taste.
One you don't expect;
One that will, each time,
Take you by surprise.

No matter that you anticipate,
Expect and avoid, simultaneously.
No matter that you know
It will somehow sneak in.

Contrary as it seems
There is a pattern.

Each time, the same.
The build-up to expectation. 
The garnering of shreds
Of feeling, tangible and otherwise.
The neglect of  the knowing. 
The  ignorance.

The pattern falling in place.  

And you tell yourself.
I know. I knew!
I've learnt my lesson.

Ha!

20 April, 2012 

Stuff.

Stuff. 

I write stuff. 

In-your-face, sometimes. 

Tantalizing, to myself. 

Nerdy, to some.

Often, surreal, to all.

For, the meaning, the picture

Is hazy when seen through eyes

That do not own words.

See? You've got to see them

Then touch them just a bit

As you roll them round your tongue...

Feel that quiver perhaps when a tiny

Plosive sound echoes a heartbeat's cry.

Bah! What's that? You gag!

I've known terrorists you know, 

The kind whose "plosive" *snigger snigger*

Sounds I've laughed away...

And you. You. You perhaps 

Insinuate, I cannot fathom

The utter senselessness of 

That word?

Which one? I ask. 

You're not sure, I can see.

Which plosive sound? Did I not

Just implode, with that suggestion?

And that is what I did mean.

A word like Love. 

A word that cries.

A sound that smells 

Of disdain. 

Breath rushes out between

Half opened, sometimes closed lips

When you articulate. I beg you. 

See. 

Even when sounds defy

Phonetic seriousness

Not adhering to norms. 

See.

Touch. 

Taste. 

When you listen.

And then, then only

Will I grant that you can

Read.

Stuff. 

26 February, 2012

Online, on a silly line of thought :D

A Class Apart :)

Fifty two faces, bright, clean
Groomed hair, defying the
Dusty wind that
Pushes thru' windows...

Pretty, demure girls (a total pretence :P)
Boys- Steadfast in attitude (a total sham :P)


But, forgiving of their
Nerdy, strait-jacket
Bonkered teachers
All the way!

A burgeoning thirteen (on average)
But going on Twenty :D
In tiny tantalizing peeks
Practising the come-hither
Whatevers! :D

Bold, brassy declarations
Experimenting always
Pushing the limits-
Their own folks'
And mine!

And, much as I do
Shudder, chew imaginary nails
Worry and rage...
I must confess, that
In their sneaky
Absolutely naughty way,

They have me.
Just that!





28 December, 2011
While supervising a test, my own class, VIII 'A'

Aftermath

In splintered glass

Its shards - sharp, silently

Holding the shrieks

Deeply felt, unexpressed...

When mirrored hearts

Unable to take the

Screaming pitch of 

Untold grief

Simply shattered.

Broken pieces of emotion

Jagged ends of pain

Liquid molten ooze

To soothe the 

Calamitous infinite moment

That endless eternal moment

I never thought

I'd recover from.

The splintered glass

And shards

Mirrored again-

Multiple hues

Myriad dreams

From whole to parts

Complete in each

Broken incompleteness.

All is not lost.

Each minute dream

Grows rich again.

Each reflected colour

Promises life again-

Each sliver, on it's own

Finds itself again...

Life, it still has

Meaning.

2 August, 2011

(Written while supervising the senior children writing their poetry, on the theme, "Life, it still has meaning". :D)

Rebell- I - ous

All it took-
Takes-
Is being told
No you can't.
Because.
Who's in charge?

You take inherent interest
Away, forcibly
Then please expect
Innovative influx of
Engaging enthusiasm
To do
To be
Just That.

I shall not say
I told you so.
You ought to have
Learned it, by now.

If not, you,
Very sadly, confirm
A lingering suspicion.

I've wasted time.
On you.
On opinion.

About time I discovered
A happy truth.
I love being the rebel!



24 November, 2011
Online, on a rebel's reckless train of thought :P

(Un)learn

What takes perhaps
Momentary lapses of time
To learn, adopt and
Make one's own-

Takes an aeon or beyond
To unlearn-
If at all it can be.

Most especially if one carries
The habit, the memory,
The potential
Deep within the cell memory-

Coursing in the vein;
Tunnelled through the
Umbilical cord-
Aeons, generations down.

Learning has always been easy.
And Unlearning just that, the greatest challenge.
Ever.

12 October, 2011

Patches on the ceiling

(This is post is entirely inspired by Arjun, the First Born, my caregiver (along with my parents and Chandrika), who insisted I had to be inspired by my forced inactivity, or rather my debilitating condition (lol), to write something with this title. His wish had come to be assayed thus :P. Happily enough, it is being typed out on his laptop.  )

These many days, past,
Prone, unmoving, almost
Enveloped in a fine mist of pain
I never saw
The patches on the ceiling.

They smoothened in a blur
As I lay on my back
And looked, eyes
Distant with the discomfort
That grew to be a part of me.

I felt, almost proudly, I now wonder,
In retrospect, my whole self
Neatly accomodating to pain.
And how I never demurred, protested
At its intensity. Vain, I certainly am!

Yet now, forced out of this
painful, accomodating complacency,
I sometimes writhe, hurting,
Crossing new thresholds of recovery...
The blur fades, focus sharpens
And I see the ceiling for what it is.

So like me.
Uneven, faint scars of reworked plastering.
Stretches smoothened, especially around corners...


And the patches, Oh yes-
Each one, clear, takng shapes
That make me smile.

And one, that stands out, distinct.
An ode, a toast perhaps
To a certain denizen of the region.
Long, slim, tapered at one end
Softly triangulared at the other
The entire length, pockmarked
With tiny peeling whorls of pain(t)
A shape bubbled out, by the damp.

So like my familiar friend, who visits
Each dusk, as the lamp lights,
To haunt my twilight wall. Our gecko!

And now, you know, I'm glad
I see, and know, those patches on the wall!


5 October, 2011

Utopia or Misanthropia??

Was a time, they sighed
When this be a place
Flowed with milk of human kindness
And Honeyed words...

Was a time, he thought
When each rainy June
I'd bungle, burgle and
Flee, no loot to boot...

Is a time, now, we wonder
Where to has fled that milk and honey...
And he wonders, with awe
How I struck lucky this rainy August night
Booty and Loot and all!

Sigh. And Sigh alike
Regret. Rejoice.
This 'wonder' is here to stay!




Garbled scrambled (non)sense :D
1 September, 2011

Pride

The words, when you began to speak
Were few, far between, and far fetched.
And fearing, there would be still fewer
I worried, brooded and talked endlessly
To you, at you, for you

Perhaps, I wonder, in hindsight
Were you waiting, till I had finished?
Most likely. I guess. No. I know.
When words came
After I had finally learned to stem the flow
My ears, and my heart filled
Brimming over were your utterances
And my pride.

The first step, so long,
The first word, as long
The rest, they followed,
Making no mistake the first ones did.
Oh boy! Oh boy! Did they not!

All through the years, till this day
I hold it close, I hold you close
Within, without. The pride in you
And all things yours...

A threshold awaits again,
A new road beckons,
Life places before you
New and beautiful destinies
More lovely yet, love unadorned

This day, I long for that tiny baby
In my arms, demanding and fretful
For whom I was the world :) :)
And yet again, this day, I love too
The handsome young man, smiling
At his demanding and fretful mom :) :)

My little one, let Joy and love,
Limitless and boundless
Fill each moment of your life,
May each thing you do be touched
With grace and benediction of the faith
You have, in yourself, and all of us
Who love you...

Happy Birthday, my dearest Ashwin...
Seize the day! Zindagi jo dobara nahin milegi :)






Written on 23 July, 2011
For the 3 rd of August, 2011
Inspired totally by ZNMD :D :D
Thanks for the pic, Malu... took it without prior permission :D