patterns don't free us

Spring, 1935 by Kuzma Petrov-Vodin 

my words escaped from my thoughts
a few fell on ground
yet some spread their wings flying above the mountains
when they got tired
those word took a ride on the clouds
I waited for them with you on my side

freedom is what they coveted
who was I to curb it?
I also watched the words on the ground
playing gleefully, unaware of my smile at their pranks
the sentences they made worked fine for me
spiraling words from the clouds merged with the grounded ones

escaped words freed me too,
to bring order to a chaotic mind
you don't have to please me
let there be no apology
let me set you free, 
free to go where you desire

I will gather my words soon and you too
(I know that in my heart)
for now you need to go into the world
I see it in your stance, 
I read it in your eyes
because I have found your words

"in the moorings and bearings
our feet have to dance their fill"

paint me in many hues, not just black

Woman With a Towel, 1898, Edgar Degas 

can you hear her sing, O voyeur
or you searching for that smudge
which was made by your inquisitive fingers
each of her nerve ends stand activated
she stands stellar in her langour
delicious feelings permeates from her
you look at her unblinkingly
that urge to merge with her soul is your mantra now
it is not a broadway show
just a woman in love
wrapped in her inherent femininity 
aren't you glad, technology made your project easy
now you watch her from miles away
such beautiful unity of different entities

"sharp emotions will not get dull
may many summer come and go"




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 I am NOT an advocate for voyeurs. It can be interpreted in many ways. Negatives and positives balance out life. I wrote my first thoughts after seeing this painting. I may, yet, re-wite it. Sometimes we need to post our rough drafts. Read this with an open mind and let me know how you feel....

inside that bowl, I see the whole world

Between Heaven and Hell, 1989 by Jacek Yerka 

what powders I will find in the jars
the now dry petals are still so freshly scented
in my slumber I am lost to the world
stone is cold but my place is warm
that clutter calls out for order
no words are written on the walls
yet the spoons and ladles read the pit
give me a staff I will break the locks of the drawers
the moon may play a truant after dawn
I will then run after sunshine
seasoned flavors will never fail
it is never curtains for a cat

"alert in the walls, the couple watches 
while I ruminate my dominance"

parallel universe

Not to be Reproduced, 1937, René Magritte

yesterday disguised as you
receded across nothingness
that hidden wound stirred in mind
like abrasive sand in jar of time
forgotten moments
I bury those under a tree

no reflection can compare with this
energy particles collect within the mirror
you must hurry to follow it
before it recedes and congeals in a heap

"that book you see
I had lost it aeon ago
only to find on the other side of a mirror"

edging fires

Faun, Horse, and Bird, 1936
Pablo Picasso 

of all the places
I find you here
master of clandestine trysts
words you never wrote on the walls
why I find those in that street?
faint sounds of a train in the background
create a surreal atmosphere
I march towards the edge
do I see a change in your stance?
no one can share that tiny stretch
it's out there somewhere

"faces in the macabre will not allow me to die
I am mingling with the vision
just let me be'

Boat that light

Meal Beach, Burra Isles, Shetland by Robin Gosnall 

a window in that water
is it a dream written in part?
a can of paint sprayed away the blues
my body is an outsider in that cold beach
I play a part 
such an intimate feeling
fearsome instincts are here to stay
what use is sprees of adventure?

"no one reserves the right to mock-
to cross that line, 
bury yourself in sand first"

clinging to me

photo by TheFoxAndTheRaven 

I wish I was writing on sand
my blue dress clings to my body
I want wings to fly away
but the dust holds me to blessed coolness
you unbalanced my moorings 
that instant was lost in a moment
I was taken for a ride
but no more gasps
the wind may yet slap against me
snare of my cascading hair will beckon 
I will again look out for unlimited eternity

"who deserves what, can anyone predict?"

blurred into nothingness

Venus de Milo with Drawers, 1936, Salvador Dali

a sublime moment of truth

tears into the limits

pieces of patience

tests the heroic prophets

loneliness is stealing into the heart

dry eyes find themselves gazing into space

myriads of everything are hidden in the drawers

yet the monarch stands tall

"broken discipline takes away the winds

monday will bring it into order

only to make it slowly disintegrate until further orders"

fill it all in a bottle

"I will court you"
he never ever said that
but I had heard
he gifted me a coral beaded on a thread
I would have preferred a plume
such a rare thing to give
why can't he pour his feelings from a bottle?
a dry bathe
Isn't that a paradox?
why am I thinking randomly
what incident has made me so
I want all in my own terms
my heart open to him
I make a ball of my fist
and come back to silence

power of denial cannot be ignored
not when it takes us over completely

facts and figures

such a rock
a burden really one has to carry
no one to fuss.
miserable holds no meaning
sweet charisma prove nothing
a straight road twisted with enough interest
a wish
all within the mind
don't make a bust of me
I don't want it
never did.
prove what to you again-
in the jumbled figures, 
I cannot find

If you could not give it to me then
I don't want it now
hope someday you go figure the whats and whys

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

I am trying to cull many things out of my life. Only by culling, we can embrace new experiences. I am trying. God knows, I am trying...