Recycled

recycled-
old memories
into a poem

While teaching my students to recycle stuff to save the environment, I too followed that lead and came out with this. I have not written a short verse for a long time now.

Wired Thoughts

draping my thoughts on a wire,
freeing the mind, i survey the sky
looking quizzically for answers,
willing it to shed wisdom.

i droop my head to the earth,
asking the same questions.
rough surface ricochets it
back to my mind, unbroken.

turning to the raging river
i again try to end burden within.
nevertheless, flowing water
washes the thoughts, returning

it over again. i stop wandering
pause a while, reflecting over.
suddenly the cobwebs clear
making me feel so liberated.

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

Some days are such a burden....

Phenomena of Triviality-----Sunday Scribblings

Sunday Scribblings asks us to write about phenomenon.


Villanelle of the Sciences

in my younger days, phenomenon meant scientific
events recurring could be comprehended with proofs
explanations were a plethora with no blatant tricks.

learning those bigger formulae never made me sick
we took those in a stride, uncaring of any spoofs.
in my younger days, phenomenon meant scientific

mind was nurtured with extreme care brick by brick-
stimulation provided for thinking out of the loops
explanations were a plethora with no blatant tricks.

there was nothing in the discipline i could not pick,
knowledge was paramount, never considered goofs
in those good old days, phenomenon meant scientific.

this made commencement of it appealing to click
in psych taking my intelligence beyond the roofs,
explanations were a plethora with no blatant tricks.

paradoxes proved only the rule, learning was quick
certain theories though tricky but followed in groups.
in my younger days, phenomenon meant scientific,
explanations were a plethora with no blatant tricks.

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

As a student of science, I am more familiar with the various scientific phenomena. I mugged a few, understood some and hated the rest. I never quite understood how could any event or non-event become a phenomenon.

The word has become synonym with blind following with no rhyme or reason. Mass adulation is a phenomenon now. Blind following borders on insanity and mass hysteria.
We can make or break a person thus. How and why such events occur is hard to say.

In our schools, we tend to call examinations as phenomena, which almost all students and a few teachers hate. This works in a negative way.

A few years back, Indian girls started winning international beauty pageants. Every young girl worth her salt wants to follow their example. I think we can do without this kind of happenings. What we need is more and more girls following women who contributed for the betterment of the society and not just be decorative pieces.

Lately any stupid news becomes breaking news. This has been seen since the emergence of news channels. All want viewers and resort to cheap publicity. The captions are interesting too, titillating the minds of the viewers.

Strange that my mind has started to waver and wander. Is that a signal to stop my rambling?! Is that some kind of omen or a phenomenon? Scientific or otherwise? What say, folks?

Read more phenomena...

Civilization------Poetry Thursday

outside the windowsill,
a tiny leaf sprouts
nervous of the terrain
but eager to absorb
the sunshine. light
stares back, unsmiling
willing the leaf to be
useful. sipping a little
water, it senses changes,
each pore tingling
opening to ensconce
those noxious gases
yet giving out oxygen-
sustaining all life forces.
understandings the
purpose of its life,
shoot blossoms to tree
perpetuating the world.

we, the civilized ones
ax it down to ground.

touching the stars-----3WW

Reality
Fan
Mind

Those words somehow fit the poem already formed in my mind. They only fanned the reality of it. I write this poem for a student of mine. She clams up all of a sudden. One can only see tears streaming down her face. We do not know what ails her. We have tried to reach her but for no avail. My heart feels for that sweet intelligent girl who refuses to communicate in any way. She needs counselling but her parents refuse to take her to one.

touching the stars

Reaching within your mind
seems impossible. coaxing is
of no avail, tears act like a
stranger impassively indifferent.

closed visage enhances
ongoing rage chasing
in circles. nubile thoughts
seem removed from reality.

Tell me girl, what ails you?
help is at hand if only you
let go. do not fan that anger,
or let anguish pour forth.

silence speaks volumes
though indecipherable to us.
give vent to those tortured
thoughts, accept comfort.

let the winds blow away
those cobwebs of angst.
acknowledge beauty of life
grabbing it with both hands.

Come, touch the stars with me.

I do not know how to end this poem other than this. Today in school, I kept thinking of her and wanted so much to help her. Unless her parents wish it, I cannot do anything other than talk to her.

Books won in drawings from my blogger friends

I won two books from two different blogger friends in book drawings. I had entered just for the heck of it. It was amazing that I won two books in the span of few days and I received both the books today.



1) Murder on the Menu edited by Peter Haining, is a collection of stories of Crimes and Mystery. This I won from Dewey. You can check out BAFAB drawing winners.





2) My Mother's Garden: A collection About Love, Flowers and Family in the form of esaays, stories and poems by writing gardeners and gardening writers. I won this from Sioux. Please do check out And the winner is... where she shows the actual drawing of my name.






I am thrilled to bits and the next few days are going to be interesting reading these two books along with others. I am so glad that both the books are so varied in subject. I will try to write reviews as soon as I finish reading these books and post those on My Own Little Reading Room.

Fascinating Revulsion----Sunday Scribblings

This week Sunday Scribblings has gone Wicked.

Wicked does have many connotations. The meaning has changed over the years. Previously being wicked was taken for evil. It described the witches. Stepmothers were always wicked. Folk lore is full of wicked stuff.

What does it mean to me? We do feel wicked at point or the other. It might not manifest itself but it is there deep within out psych. Sometimes it makes us guilty as hell for thinking and feeling that way. However I feel as long as it is only in our thoughts and do not affect anyone other than us, it does no lasting damage.

We are familiar with that playful wickedness also. I love to be part of that. So many times I have been wickedly wicked. Playing pranks and getting on nerves. One is wicked without evil intentions, in a playful manner.

We have faced real wicked people too. You can actually feel that evil aura surrounding them. One gets an uneasy feeling and wants to get away from them. At times escaping that is very difficult, as one is pulled into that whirlpool of evil thoughts. We are assailed by such uneasy feelings, those unknown, unexplained fears that refuse to leave us. You cannot shake it away.

I post here a poem depicting one such person. ( At times, I cannot do without poetry!!)

Fascinating Revulsion

morbid thoughts assail me
with out fail when
i come into your
presence. your smiling
countenance belies
evil thoughts you
harbour. your deeds are
in variance of what one
contrives from your
visage. serene expression
hides a hideous mind.
that soft voice corrodes
deep before one can
escape that caustic
barb veiled in honey.
suspended between that
revulsion and fascination,
we are sucked into
that black hole of your
carefully concocted designs.

...not any more, i escaped...

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

Read more wickedness...

Reading Update: Posted review for Man's Search For Meaning on my Reading Room blog. This book should be read by everyone. ..yes everyone.

Intangibles-----Terza Rima---Poetry Thursday

intangibles is mirrored in the orbs of your eye
however, you see me watching you intimately
to read the mystery embedded deeply. you sigh

unwilling to share that enigma shielded so closely
by none other than you. even from me, who is but
you. I discerned it right from the beginning, wholly

accepting it, questions farther from my mind. shut
me out, if you must, in the end you have to arrive
tapping at my heart, asking to stay, twisting my gut.

you know not, your love shows though you strive
to keep it in check by your coldness or plain anger
nothing can hide that aura bursting forth. deprive

me if you must, why deny yourself that sensation
which is beyond intelligence, beyond comprehension?

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

Do read my free verse, Spaced Out, which was my first PT post of this week. That hits hard.

Short Story---Normal---3WW

Cope
Revealed
Stick

"Shit!" He thought. Jason was ever so bored with such crowds. He seldom attended parties. Paul, his business partner had insisted and he could not refuse. Now, Jason stood there holding a drink. He looked around and stopped short. She was so breathtakingly beautiful with long silky black hair, dark eyes, and full kissable lips. He felt something stirring inside him. It astonished him.

She was laughing at something Paul was saying. Jason walked towards he, looking deep into her mysterious eyes, said, "I am Jason. And you?" "Olivia," she answered. Though her expression had revealed nothing of the strong attraction, she had felt for him, she too had been watching him all along and was very pleased when he reached her.

"Dance?" He asked.
"Yes. Paul, will you excuse us, please?" She asked turning back towards Paul. He gave a strange look towards Jason and said, "Be my guest."

After that, there was no looking back. Jason forgot his boredom. They were inseparable dancing into the wee hours. He had a gut feeling it was a start of something new in his life. He was confused by his own reactions. However, he wanted to savour the moment. He knew people were talking about him and Olivia. His lifestyle was not exactly a closed book. He had not really cared much before. Now he thought, with her on his side, he could cope with anything.

When the party ended, Jason was reluctant to let her go. He wanted both of them to stick to each other forever. He felt he had found his soul mate. Finally asked, "Would you like to come with me tonight?" Olivia was silent for a moment. Her thoughts somehow echoed his. In the washroom, she had heard enough gossip. That did not bother her at all. "Yes," she answered finally.

In the lift up to his apartment, they could not keep their hands off each other. He was pleasantly surprised. In addition, very pleased with her body's responses to his. Next morning, Jason woke up and stretched, smiling to himself. It had never been so good before this. Most important, he was normal. He could not have asked for more. Olivia was after all, Oliver.

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

Please don't forget to read my review of John Steinbeck's The Moon is Down. You won't be disappointed. Another must read book. I recommend it strongly.

Spaced Out

close as close could be,
with no room for privacy
I have lived here
as long, I remember.
go on living
as long as I breathe.
shanties are what is home
shame has no meaning
space is but a word-
what use is it for me?

why do you smirk,
why the surprise-
this is after all my life.
born here,
watched my siblings
conceived,
while they watched
my children being born.
that somehow balances
the untold guilt.

I cannot see the sky
however, I am near the earth.
lived since my birth
would stay until my demise.

would death give me liberty?!










This post was inspired by Carmi Levy@written Inc from his post Density, squared. Do check out his blog. You won't be disappointed by any of his posts.

I have put up pictures of slums from Delhi and Mumbai. Well, I cannot compare with Carmi!

PS: I think I need to polish my free verse! It has rusted over the slack weeks!

Long and Straight of it----Sunday Scribblings

cascading tresses
flow over balustrade
storm cloud brews

When I was a little girl, I used to have fringes. I never liked it. I wanted to have short hair like my three brothers. My father would have allowed me anything but my mother put her foot down. She insisted that I at least look like a girl; even though I did not behave like one! Whenever I needed to trim those unruly ends, she did the deed or was always present if someone else did it. I do not think she trusted anyone with my locks!!

For those afore said reason, I ended up having very long hair. I have thigh-length straight, shiny, jet-black tresses. My hair is SO straight that you can check that out with a plumb line. I used to wish for wavy hair. I had to grin and bear my LONG STRAIGHT mane. I never bothered to comb it. My poor mother had to do it until I was 15 years old.

Somewhere down the line, I started to appreciate my long hair. Due to great genetics, my hair is not difficult to look after. It does not tangle much unless it is very humid. I massage it once a week with warm olive oil and wash it after one hour. I use mostly herbal shampoos….India has no dearth of those. I dry my hair naturally. Hair dryers are big no-no. I have never used any harsh chemicals on my hair. Heat treatments damage the hair and I steer clear of those. I once used henna for conditioning but it dried out my hair. I keep my hair plaited, as Indian climate is not very conducive for keeping the hair open. Another reason I need to look neat too being a teacher and all that…;)

Greying hair is one concern but my 91 years old grand mother has very few grey hairs, my mom has only started to grey now after 70, so I am not much worried in that front. I will cross that bridge when I come to it.

When I have a bad hair day I just knot it and put a wooden stick through it. On good hair days, I feel light headed and elated. Hair does dictate our moods. Brushing is a kind of therapy on those depressing days. One just feels good lovingly combing each strand. Bouncy hair makes us bounce on our steps. Hair reflects our perception sometimes. It hides me from the world too...I just need to change my style. Flowing hair reminds one of a river...

In a nutshell...hair can be so sensual..

More hairy tales...

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

Another review posted here, this time a collection of short stories by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Innocent Erendira. Do check it out. Another great read.

Manacled-------Terza Rima----Poetry Thursday

Manacled-------Terza Rima

I refuse to extol that rationale to sell
foremost thoughts, erstwhile desire
half-truth world knows yet too well.

attenuate slight air, and faltering fire;
crawl back, cut short that demolition
of character which survives quagmire

of satire, that has caused destruction
of spirit, cultural values of inherent
magnitude in the surrounding action.

barrage of acidic comments are cast
almost uprooting my afore said decree
however, I pause, upholding steadfast

to my beliefs, I forge ahead, mind free
of confusion, breaking those shackles
clearing cobwebs, not giving to spree.

nothing should keep spirit in manacles
nurture it such it reaches the pinnacle.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At times one has to write for oneself. I think this is one of those moments. It might not make much sense. Nevertheless, inner conversations are necessary.

PS: I need to get back to free verse...:D

Celebrating Frivolity------3WW

Another book read and review written. A thousand Years of Good Prayers By Yiyun Li is a collection of short stories about contemporary China and its recent past. A much recommended book. Do check it out.

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


Private
Crossed
Rinse

Celebrating Frivolity----Pantoum

against that period I entrench myself here
with private moments, I am thrilled to dote
on curiosity of dead, which at once appear
from frivolity which help in holding me afloat.

with private moments, I am thrilled to dote
on awkward persistence with by far disdain
from frivolity which help in holding me afloat.
construe not on your heart while mine is slain

on awkward persistence with by far disdain
rinse your hatred with such recurrent haste.
Construe not on your heart while mine is slain
nonetheless crossed, onset comes with waste.

rinse your hatred with such recurrent haste
wipe the slate and commence everything new.
nonetheless crossed, onset comes with waste
managing requires skill, bestow upon its due.

wipe the slate and commence everything new
which looks on turmoil and in no way shaken,
managing requires skill, bestow upon its due
in no time, peace would prevail, to be taken

which looks at turmoil and in no way shaken.
against that period I entrench myself here
in no time, peace would prevail, to be taken
like curiosity of dead, that again reappeared…

Feeding Pessimism-----Sonnet

Finished reading yet another book. This time Fury by Salman Rushdie, a birthday gift from my nephew. I think reading it has affected my mood. I am kind of pampering my brooding mood with this sonnet. I do know I am going to be on the top of the world tomorrow. Hence all those who want/try to sympathise, do so at your peril!

But of course, you are welcome to comment and critique the sonnet...:)

#Update: Today(10.07.07) I have been in a upbeat mood. As you can see from a comment by Dewey, I won a book, Murder on the Menu. Thanks Dewey!!


Feeding Pessimism-----Sonnet

descending death, dispirited with melancholy
make one’s blood boil with excessive rage.
glimpsing on dimness which blind do see
and ominously mocking their own presage.

mind at earliest in temperament was done
contemplation is, as a death cannot choose.
but have dominance to hurt, and will shun
all words of encouragement most of us use.

angst would rather take a life, fetching a tomb
closing out from all but taking death on a flight.
cursing this world out to the end of its doom
possessed to go in pursuit of antithesis of delight.

Each altering place, which was never seen before
like those waves generate near encrusted shore!

Taciturnity-----Sunday Scribblings

I suppose this week, Sunday Scribblings slipped over! No wonder they want us to write on Slippery!

I have had my share of slipping and slippery people. I wouldn't like to dwell on that right now. Here I offer a poem which formed in my mind out of the blue moon! It might seem incomplete to a few. Nevertheless, as for as I am concerned, it is complete. Again posting it straight out of the mill- raw, rough and unedited!

Taciturnity

how did i slip, not acknowledging
the obvious- how did it happen
with me? blinded by sheer feelings
i plunged with my eyes wide open.

there cannot be any justification
for my actions. i was sucked into
the vortex, without rationalization
knowing about blind alley thereto.

however, the mind refused to see
spirit being relatively insensitive.
hollowness persisted within me,
permeating, hence accumulative.

convictions burned, dehydrated
all the pores- resulting in vacuity-
numbing moratorium culminated
into withdrawn state of taciturnity.

For how long could I stay slipped?

For more slips...

An aside: I have posted the review of Defy the Eagle by Lynn Bartlett. It is a historical romance. It made a good read. All of you, especially my women friends, can chk that out on my Reading Room!

Update: I am so happy that the Taj Mahal too has been elected to represent global heritage throughout history.

Baking Words-----Terzanelle-----Poetry Thursday

I have been on a reading spree. Best Sellers, Historical Romance, Whodunits, Animal related etc etc. So much so that I was confused for a while. This terzanelle is an outcome of that. Again posting it raw and unedited. It might appear vague to some.



Baking Words-----Terzanelle

Reading all those books gave me a headache
myriads of character spinning within my mind.
It would have been better if I had baked a cake

where in all that chocolate meringue one finds
nuts with glee, which can’t compare with books,
myriads of character spinning within my mind.

Plots thicken, cases solved, police chase crooks
with no avail. They too preferred to search out
nuts with glee, which don’t compare with books

of law, which, judiciary deals for weeding louts
out of the system. Sometimes police work hard
with no avail. They would prefer to search out

bakeries, where pastries don’t taste like card-
board pieces, baking is a pleasure- gloom dies
out of the system. Romances too, are so hard

to be anything but tender, seeds of hatred sigh.
Reading those books, no wonder gave a headache
so strong. Baking is sheer pleasure - gloom dies,
replaced by such hunger that can never be faked!

Killing the Dead--Terza Rima

I was reading a work of fiction set in 62 AD when Britannia is at war. My pen started to flow and I wrote this. This terza rima is about a Roman slave and her Icenic master....

Killing the Dead

Driving the knife deep, turn it side to side
blood won’t be spilled, tears won’t be shed
to gloat over, to claim as victory of mind.

Numbness has set in as weighty as lead.
Tatters of heart lay on the feet, ignoring
it- go your way. How can one kill the dead

again? Why sense of loss is so foreboding
that it ceases to impinge on. Departs present,
future does not exist, neither past affecting.

cadavers cannot feel, however they resent
mutilation of the spirit. Exposed raw pores
refuse to singe, feeding revulsion- extent

of which not to be quantified. Spurting sores
promise damage, creating extensive mayhem,
however eating away discretely at the spores

well guarded by you. Yet sanity stops bedlam
she recoils, pausing demise, leaving out sham.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Update: I posted a review of The Bafut Beagles by Gerald Durrell on my Reading Room. A must read book if you have not done so by now. It is not easily available though. I got a collecters piece!

I will post soon the review of "Defy the Eagles by Lynn Bartlett"- a historical romance, from which this post was inspired. Keep checking this space!!

Tagged---Eight random facts about me

My summer vacations ended today. It seemed like a chore going back to school after two months' break. Not that we got much break. We had in-service trainings and I was doing admissions for class 11. It will take a while to get back into routine. Sigh!

Is it me or everyone feels this way after vacations?

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

Eight random facts about me

I have been tagged for this by three people Kai, Beaman and Kamsin. I was not very keen on doing this but if you are tagged by three bloggers, you have to do it!!

Rules: Each person posts the rules before their list and then they list eight things about themselves. At the end of the post, that person tags and links to 8 other people; then visits those people’s sites and comments, letting them know that they have been tagged, and to come read the post, so they know what they have to do.

Nothing sensational in there:

1) I do not like wearing high heels. I prefer sneakers any time. I have been known to wear those with saris!

2) I have always had very long hair. When left open my jet black hair comes down to mid-thigh. I keep it plaited.

3) I love all kinds of tea. I can drink it by gallons.

4) I never stopped biting my nails. Now I have moderated it into biting only my thumbnails!

5) I strive to learn new things. That's because I get bored doing the same things over and over again.

6) I never learnt to ride a bicycle. I do regret that.

7) I was a very bad pupil. I could never sit still. In other words, I could not concentrate.

8) I have the ability to switch off completely from the world if I so desire.

There are more but you can't expect those to be revealed or do you...:D?!

Now to tag eight others. Hope you all play along.

Clare
cocaine jesus,
homo escapeons,
ozymandiaz,
puerileuwaite,
steve,
/t mo'po,
within without

Those who don't want to do the tags..... you would better!

``````````````````````````````````
Don't forget to read and leave your footmarks on Country Poem Meme.