cries inside the mind

photo by Steven Kelly 

enough explanations she heard from us
now she is going south
she will take the train,
feeling the gusting wind on her face
no, we cannot help her pick up the pieces
she needs to do it alone,
to stop the cries inside her head
filters do not work in there
be as bitter as one wishes to be
although we got no reason for that
she needs to tame the fierce emotions
to keep out the despair

"pieces of torn pages with her notes
will no longer hold her
she needs the solitary person within her to hold her hand
she needs her, only her to heal. 
to heal"

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

This came out of deep pain. Women are not respected in my country. Every day in Delhi or Mumbai or Bangalore, someone is gang raped. Yes, you read that right. Gang raped. Yet she survives. Because there is no other option. Our laws are very lax. Most rapist go scot free. The irony is, this is my country and I cannot leave it....

I have not used strong brutalized words here. Already there is enough brutality....

shaking it out, I dance to life

painting by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

I must illuminate the circle of life 
not just an incentive for concrete deeds
I cannot wallow in self pity
let me scatter my thoughts on the pavement
I will weave some fantastic tapestry of thoughts
my pounding heart will not stop short at anything
stark emotions do not strain to break free
unbroken spirit do help one hitch
when I can dance to anything
please do not race into time
I don't expect a farewell 
finality of ending is not I seek
all are seeking my downfall
I will not let that happen
one who believes in me
will not let me fall

"a huge gathering may prevail
but I will do what is right"

existentialism

Drawing Hands, 1948 by M. C. Escher

after that long long walk
he rested his head finally on the roadside
something woke him out of that deep stupor
lost he stared at the sky above

all his life was a waste of time
if only he could go back home
each single breath propelling him
thought of it was so heavenly

holding on to a much thumbed paper
he thought of what was awaiting him
but his mind right now couldn't fathom
why was he totally lost in the drawing hands

he wished for eternal sleep
to get rid of his bottomless existence
to wipe out the ravages of war
deeply absorbed in his body and soul

holding on to the single thread of life
he wanted to escape the shadow
from the tang of salt in the air
his sense to live on took over

plans may have gone awry in the past
now was not the time to dwell on that
in the landscape of bigger things
gravity holds us all, he thought

"my mind circles and sends messages
that I need bread and also shoes-
the two things essential for existence"

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

Miz Quickly's Learning Experience

Choose a poem of between ten and twenty lines.

Not a favorite poem, but an obscure poem by a favorite poet. (…this could work with an older poem, but a contemporary work is to be preferred–the tone is more suitable….)

Type the poem, triple space. Then, between the lines, fill in a new line, based on or suggested by the original line.

Next, eliminate the original poem, close up your own lines, and tinker with them to make them cohere.

Consider this the first part of a longer poem, and label it so.

Then write a companion section–Part II, and entirely your own–that extends the first part by continuing or departing from or on some otherway varying the themes and images of the first

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

I chose Pickle Belt by Theodore Roethke. Click on it to read the full poem. Last three stanzas can be taken as part 2!! But I will write something else SOON....

vintage ballooning

I fly over vegetation with the crows circling
who wove a tale that has lasted for eons?
I see scarce light on the ground
no one has the strength to see the eroded soil
last time I was there I could foresee rain
falling on the rooted cells of unknown plants
change has been less in reality
but mind has revisited it numerous times.
balloons may carry me away
but I will end up eroded on the ground

"no one can escape the inevitable end
non living objects are no different from living ones"

when the core rots, soul will disintegrate

painting by Andrew Wyeth 

a longing you cannot see
time to time it returns
driven by a lone tear
no one ever threw that key
a slate never wiped clean
behind that mesh
you become a stranger
no one can repair that tear
there is no room for despair
you may think the night will make me swoon
but I will wander no further before I return 
it is time to pick out the invisible nails
before I let my heart disintegrate

"a bloody path seems to be only way out
from a long journey of lies and deceits"

in the shadows, let it be

photo by Agustin Berrocal 

you can leave now
it was a mistake to invite you
I need to rest the cause
my conscience is clear
we can never be friends
our communicate does not translate into that
not even for a second, I want to be with you
nothing will come out of it if we get together
this is no lab
I will not write a note

"the wrinkles on the potato skin
cannot detect the sick relationship
why are you trying to find bones, then?"

half a moon

Supermoon 2013, Julio Cortez, AP 

after climbing that summit
it is impossible to descend
but the voices are asking me to risk it
I might give in to pressure
nothing happens without any smoke
I do not  scare easily from the demons within my head
even if my belly heaves with tension

"I will carry that torch for you
many Supermoons may come and go"

A Solitary Reaper Retold

I toil in the meadow
a solitary figure
in that lane
I walk miles
not fearing the wild bear
which comes from that other side of bridge
what it is looking for I wouldn't know
that bear is as lonely as I am
I may seem fragile and unstable
but I have enough insight to survive
I will rest on a rock for a while
before I retreat to my island of peace
that bend you see is what I am seeking
in no time I will fly away like fallen bird
he knows his place is the sky

"the clouds will touch my feet in no time
persuading me to go with them"

hubris

Stanley Kubrick for Look Magazine, 1949 

complex edge takes me away from the beaten tracks
we have become still pictures in this forest of feelings
my lie has grown so pale
answers are not needed now
you will throw the files
I will light that gas with this lighter
burning all the invisible mess

"still I need a class or two to unlearn you
but in the vintage mode"

escaping from banality

The Promenade, 1918, by Marc Chagall 

don't you dare giggle
she is not flying
it is just a crazy illusion
her chattering teeth shatters the silence
I will scoop some moonshine
that will wake her up
she escaped from her home
a cave of a home
such a banal life
she thinks she cut all ties
just a wrinkle you see here
all will be normal
I will do anything to make her stay

"she will make banana splits
that will be our meal for supper"