Powered----Sonnet----Poetry Thursday

I did not get out the map (rivers) for Poetry Thursday as suggested. I wrote a Petrarchan Sonnet (abba cddc effe gg) taking the prompt into a different way. It is but a rough draft.

Powered---Sonnet

Meandering wildly, water from river is directed
to collect at one place. To bestow it with a sense
of purpose, functional for our advance. Hence
opting for highest summit, making it to be fated.

Applying its inherent energy, tapping the source
for human consumption, life’s force- thus water
fulfils all our desires. Thence fore, streaming river
is restrained with our industry; changing its course-

falling forcefully from the high altitude, it flows
downhill with a velocity of such colossal force
out of which is, generated so much of horse-
power of electricity, helping technology grow

within the world, we live in. Meticulously to hilt,
enhancing lives of people; cities are, thus built.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At some places, water turbines are still used to produce electricity. I didn't want to describe the physics of it, as I don't intend for the sonnet to be technical. I prefer to write structured poetry taking in the modern aspect of our lives.

Click for more flows in the river...

Phantoms Play----3WW

..............3WW ........... stroke, summer, leave


Phantoms Play

in the middle of the hot summer night,
moon behind the cloud sheds orange light,
dancing fireflies are in a perpetual flight.

tired, harried and hungry I arrive alone,
looking for a place to rest my tired bones.
midst of nowhere, i see a house of stone.

eerie silence permeates the surroundings.
the sudden stroke of the clock enhancing
the hush. massive clouds look seemingly

like phantoms playing without any care.
inside the house, virtually no one to share
hastily i leave, as staying there; I don’t dare!

Radiant Shadows

No dark thoughts but shadows flickering on the wall from an outside source, after I switched off the lights, prompted this.

Radiant Shadows

flames linger
as darkness grows dim-
slumbering
into purple night.

fireflies dance
memories of bliss-.
eyes focus
as images fade.

midnight blue outlines
colours of ignominy-
harshly stabbing
the calm night.

ghosts play
in radiant gloom-
shadows get lost
in the drama enacted.

walls thus bereft,
spookily call out
lingering flames,
to wake up again.

Take it easy-----Sunday Scribblings

Simple exercise by Sunday Scribblings

don’t let ripples
strip down your scruples.
with certain principles,
keep your life simple.

I can't get more simple than that!

Simple. Pure and Simple. This word has a depth of meaning in its simplicity. Such a beautiful word for such a complex world. For some reason, I feel the world we live in is not as complex or complicated as we make it out to be. We want everything should be intricate. We secretly desire for things to be difficult. That gives us a sense of power when we get around to it. Sometimes the seemingly complicated of problems have very simplistic solutions. I for one, tackle anything in a very straightforward manner. I sit down, think and try to find easy solutions. One can achieve that with practical and rational thinking. There is always pragmatic way out to any predicament, which might seem tough in the initial glance.

I am not going to make this post convoluted by taking on the problems of the world. Let the political leaders goof up as best they can. We are used to it. We will pick up the pieces.

I will write here what I do best, about penning poetry. I mostly write in simple, lucid language. I want that all who read my poetry should understand it. Imagery and metaphors can be shown by simple words too. I try to write that way. Sometimes I do resort to melodrama but what is life without a bit of that!

I know, I am rambling here with seemingly disjointed thoughts. After all, it is MY blog! As per dictate, I am keeping this post simple. I cannot go on writing about simple living and high thinking kind of stuff. Those sound clichés. I do think high. Although as for as simple living is concerned, I enjoy my comforts. What the hell, I earn it! So much for being simple…

Tough really...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More simple stuff...

Album----3WW

I had written this sometime back. I changed it a bit to post for 3WW.

Album

Excuse me, I want no part.
Rather be anywhere else,
watching the world pass by.
Who wants to look
into a folder
noshed by a filthy grief-
nurtured by festers of hate?

As for assorted stamps,
you classify the lot.

guess, you still have place
in that record of yours.
You will fill each page
and add some more-
you will collect pessimism
in that imaginary album
of convenience,
for eternity to come.

Embalmed-------Poetry Thursday

Since my summer vacations started, I have been reading and writing a lot. My muse seems overactive at times. I don't say that I am churning out master pieces. Such times are rare when one writes and writes. I am reading too. In those 23 days, I have finished 12 books. I wrote reviews for a few too. I will not write for all that I read. I still got a LONG list, intend to finish that and keep adding to it as I go along. Posted a book review for Zoya's Story: An Afghan Woman's Struggle for Freedom. All are welcome to read that.

Now back to poetry. No structured poetry for some time to come. I think I have had my fill of that. It feels good to be back to free verse!

This one is for imagined dialogue for poems. Here a mummy is talking back to an elated archaeologist. I do not think it follows the prompt strictly.

Embalmed

“Long way from home,
hours turned to years,
digging this dump.
Finally, I find
rows and rows
of hitherto
unknown mummies.
It was what I needed
to be renowned.”

“Cutting so deep,
your words offend.
My master died,
I was just a slave.
Wherever he went,
I abided by.
One day I was alive,
next day dead;
unaware,
what killed me.
My entrails opened.
Cleaned. Sewed.
Embalmed.
Hundreds of us
followed him to
his grave.
Elation you feel,
overlooking our
blazing soul.
I wonder why."

.........................................
Read more dialogues...

Aftermath----Terza Rima----3WW

I started this as a tale of revenge but I could not develop it the way I wanted to. I am posting it with loose ends or I should say loose middle! The beginning and ending seem right. Critiques are welcome. I need suggestions to get it right.

* Update: I added another stanza and changed it slightly. Hope now it reads better. There is still scope for improvement though.

Aftermath----Terza Rima
.

With precise conduct, he laid down his appliances.
Checking those for umpteenth time, he stealthily
searched & found her. Holding his belief abeyance,

he analysed all that was in front of him. Evidently,
he could not suppress his elation. His endurance
had paid off; he had gained time, planning carefully.

Achieving what he had set out with arrogance
with the exclusion of what others had predictably
said about him. With muted pondering, oblivious

to sense of righteousness, calmly and wordlessly
wiping clean each single thought within his mind,
sliced her with his knife, cutting the flesh effortlessly

as if, he did it every day of his life. The intertwined
fingers, he separated slowly, the matt platinum ring
being only jewellery. Immediately pocketing his find,

closing his eyes to everything, he pulled the string,
hearing it give in with pressure, silent sound of death
at his feet. Enormity of his deed hit him like springs.

He recoiled from himself. Drawing in ragged breath,
he forced the knife brutally into his throat as aftermath.

.......................................................................

PS: Don't forget to check on my book review: Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart.....:D

Emergence---Villanelle----Sunday Scribblings

Sunday Scribblings prompt is about masks...real or imaginary ones. A villanelle pertaining to that.

Emergence

Thin line between reality & fantasy is gone,
falsehood crumbles under its own weight.
Out of the debris, something new is born.

Pervading peace resounds and withdrawn
as the consequences of pragmatic debate.
Thin line between reality & fantasy is gone

taking nightmares away in that new dawn.
Life long embedded fears slowly abate-
out of the debris, something new is born.

Drawing out a conclusion taken foregone-
stripping off mask to be with its soul mate,
thin line between reality & fantasy is gone.

With effort, comes the will power to go on,
shunning all that deemed normal till date.
Out of the debris, something new is born,

freshness of it all does not let mourn
slipping of façade, which was way too late.
Thin line between reality & fantasy is gone
out of the debris, something new is born.

Click for more masks...

Osculate

your kiss is melting
the chocolate in my mouth-
your tongue sweep for tiny pieces
entangled between my teeth.

my teeth try to bite yours-
my tongue wants to throw the
intruder out which is bent on
stealing the sweetness.

traitor like, those crevices
open up, letting you rob
each single molecule of
those aching flavours.

i am left with tasting it
from yours, tongues
enmeshed fighting for
a bigger share.

Demented Vision---Pantoum

I had been watching a total stranger drinking a milk shake, all the while thinking and shaking his head. He got up with a jerky movement as if he saw someone and left just as quickly. Inspired by the whole episode, I wrote this Pantoum. Another form of structured poetry. It has not come out very well but what the hell! I am still posting it here. Feel free to to critique it.

Double Vision

coolly drinking his spiked milk shake
he contemplates at nothing specific
swirling his glass, he does a double take
wiping his eyes, deeming it as a trick

he contemplates at nothing specific
biting his nails, scratching his head
wiping his eyes, deeming it as a trick
few of his doubts needing to be shed

biting his nails, scratching his head
he talks aloud to no one particular
few of his doubts needing to be shed
holding his glass, he asks for a regular

he talks aloud to no one particular
hearing himself talk like a moron
holding his glass, he asks for a regular
tastes it again, bitter feelings gone

hearing himself talk like a moron
checks himself & before he gets up
tastes it again, bitter feelings gone
asks for a cigar, takes in a long puff

checks himself & before he gets up
coolly drinking his spiked milk shake
asks for a cigar, takes in a long puff
swirling his glass, he does a double take?

Another Chance----Sunday Scribblings

This week's prompt for Sunday Scribblings is Second chance. All of us desire for a second chance at one time or the other. We say, if only I had done this way…

If only, I get another chance...

This one goes for my dad. Thanks dad, wherever you are! I write the following for you in a slightly ironic note…

Second Chance

words rolling of my tongue never did impress you,
all you wished for me- laws and postulates to pursue.

nothing could compare with purest of pure sciences,
with my rebellion streak, I led you to merry dances.

With your persuasive best, you made me complete
my master’s degree in chemistry. I ended up replete

with valency, double bonds and kekule structures-
leaving out Chaucer, Milton, Bronte, Shakespeare

out of my periphery but only for little short while.
as soon I could, I got back without any further trial.

that previous degree was taken to fulfil your goal,
masters in English literature overwhelmed my soul.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As I have said ad nauseam, after I passed out from grade 12 with very good marks, I wanted to pursue English Literature. I was good at it; I loved to read and loved to articulate. (Writing came much later unless you consider groovy essays and various synopses). Therefore, for me that was the natural progression. There was a major obstacle. I had not envisaged that at all. When I told my dad, he was very much against it. He wanted me to study Mathematics or pure sciences. No Biology stream either. Mathematics, Physics or Chemistry. As simple as that. I had the choice of choosing one from these three. Come to think of it, there was no choice at all. I did not want to study Mathematics and Physics was kind of God for me. No one can study God.

I was left with Chemistry. I protested but for no avail. Therefore, I ended up completing my bachelor’s degree. After I completed that, he told me it would take only two more years to get my PG degree. This time too I did his bidding. I finished a teaching degree also, after that. As soon I passed out, I landed up as a teacher…a Mathematics teacher…I had studied Mathematics in my bachelors degree along with Physics. Those were ancillary subjects, chemistry being the main one.

After a few years of working, I enrolled myself for a PG degree in English and completed it. Science students can opt for most humanities subjects. My dad was somewhat happy after I finished my PG degree in English too.

I had this grudge against him for a long time that he didn't let me pursue English Literature right from the beginning. After I finished my second PG, I realised that if I had done English in the first place, I wouldn’t be holding two masters degrees in, as varied subjects as Chemistry and English. Maybe I would have regretted that at some stage. Now I do not regret anything. I am grateful to my dad who is no more. I did get a second chance.

It does not seem ironical anymore that I studied Chemistry, teach Mathematics and love English literature.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More second chances..

Nowhere Land-----sonnet-----Poetry Thursday

Random Promt Generator provided the boldly italized words after refreshing a few times as per their prompt, meet the randomizer . I wrote a petrachan sonnet using the same. Again a rough draft...:)

Nowhere Land---Sonnet


all plans gone awry, he was lost in nowhere
land. his eyes spanned but could not hold
varied, vastness of unknown space; never told
by anyone; unrecognisable by those out there.

tribulations of his folly, he had himself to bear
nothingness in darkness, made his heart go cold.
ventured he did into serrated land, with so bold
mind, all miseries forgotten in his demeanour.

each miniscule particle of sand in the desert
pierced like needle into sensitive skin; barrage
of it spiralled upwards towards the azure sky.

despite adversity, his optimist thinking- just
saved him from further doom, some strange
force showed him way out, for him to say bye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click to meet more randomizer poetry...

Patterned Dreams---terzanelle

I have written a terzanelle here. A terzanelle is a poetry form which is a combination of the villanelle and the terza rima. It is nineteen lines total, with five triplets and a concluding quatrain.

I drive myself nuts trying new structures. Here I wrote about dreams being woven into clothes. All are welcome to critique it.

Patterned Dreams

in and out, dreams form in beautiful patterns
tail of silken thread following it faithfully
coloured and hued, takes twists and turns

within clothes enhancing it luminously
weaving aspirations of life’s thoughts
tail of silken thread following it faithfully

vacuum gone taking with it the draughts-
basted out, building up with great strength
weaving aspirations of life’s thoughts

needle stitches in dreams at some length
on the trousseau of the lovely bride, tightly
basting in, building up with great strength

embroidered in are the wishes into lovely
accouterments desired, along with hopes
on the trousseau of the lovely bride. tightly

held emotions, feelings needing to cope.
in and out, dreams form in beautiful patterns-
accuoterments desired along with hopes;
coloured and hued, taking twists and turns.

Consciously Bottomless----Terza Rima----Sunday Scribblings

Sunday Scribblings prompts us to write about ocean.

As I live in Delhi, ocean is only something to dream about in my day-to-day life. Whenever I get a chance, I prefer to go to the sea rather than mountains. Sea beckons me no end. The vastness, the never ending, the bottomless ocean calls out as nothing does. Ocean conjures up mixed thoughts…too many…sometimes those thoughts are indecipherable….merging into each other…The sea can accept anything. It returns that too. In ways, we do not understand. Sea is unconquerable.

Oceans set us free. Oceans humble us. Oceans consume us. There is a beautiful world in there on the ocean beds. Ocean fascinates me no end. I can watch the waves breaking in to rocks for all eternity. Sea reminds me of eternity.

I write the following, comparing the mind with the sea. Both are so different yet the same. One we can see, other we cannot. Depths of both can never be fathomed in our entire existence.

It might appear a little vague to some. As I wrote it only a while back, I am offering it raw and unedited. Nowadays, I think I am on a editing break!

Consciously Bottomless----Terza Rima

as if eternally etched there, constant is but
moving around, breaking into serrated edges
of the brain, vastness of those thoughts just

about turn around, hitting at the wedges
of time already passed, nonetheless effect
the convoluted shells in the mind’s ledge-

each crevice fills leaving no space. reflects
of the cogitation left behind, still have power
to mar. conquering the mind doesn’t affect

the spirit, as untamed as it can be, towers
over, looking down with disdain at weakness
of consciousness. bottomless psyche showers

more of intellect, energizing the body. bleakness
disappears, like anything dropped into the ocean
is accepted, returned in some other way, uniqueness

retained yet different. slightest of change within,
understanding with wisdom to be calmly serene.
......................................................................

More trips to ocean...

Inertia----Villanelle---Poetry Thursday

This week, Poetry Thursday gave us the option of posting anything we liked, which is given as it's a free day. I almost did not write anything but finally wrote what I had been feeling all day today. State of Inertia. We all face it and come through. I too came through. Maybe writing it down helped. I have tackled it in the form of a villanelle. I am kind of enamoured by the structure after detesting it for so long!!

I post my first draft here. I will edit it soon. Or not if I don't want to.

Inertia

With not so much as a movement of my eyes
I stare unseeingly at nothing in particular,
words are passing back and forth like dice.

Images focus, get blurred, answering whys
gets so tough. Thoughts cease, get dipolar,
with not so much as a movement of my eyes.

All seem to be in a perpetual motion, surprise
is still not something I feel, more of an insular.
Words are passing back and forth like dice.

Stillness within the mind, enhanced, demise
of rationality, disorder of reflection registers.
With not so much as a movement of my eyes,

I contemplate ending the state of limbo; “unwise
decision,” tells me my inner self. Now spectacular
words are passing back and forth like dice.

Inertia of thoughts stops suddenly- goodbyes
exchanged. I am yet again amazed, stellular;
with not so much as a movement of my eyes;
words are passing back and forth like dice!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Read more-a thursday, free day...

Never Enough

This is one of my rare love poems. I thought I should kick start the month of May by writing one! I have deliberately left it incomplete. Just the way love is never complete. There is always that craving for more...and more...

Never Enough

indescribable, beyond comprehension-
my mind reaches out in desperation

love gushes, like rains going on for days
my heart attuned to yours in everyway-

warmth of your love encompasses; transcends.
my craving for you has no beginning, no end.

depth of those feelings cannot be fathomed,
this state of being is nothing I have known.

come to me, listen to my heart and mind call;
your presence would soothe my restless soul.

hold so close that you brand yourself on me-
I drown myself in you as in bottomless sea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~