Desicritics Category: Culture: Poetry

Poessay: Rosary 13 - By the Lake

temporal — Thu, 4 Sep 2008 08:41:13 EDT

By the Lake

time, tide, toddler

move forward

expunge tide

it comes and recedes

omit toddler too

the child grows

then turns a child

again….moving

from womb to womb

that leaves father time

the lonely straggler

with mystic smile

at the fair

Vain Thought

if that moment

revisits

then…

gar woh lamha

lotay

tou…

Said the Soldier

said the soldier

going to the front

should i fall and find

it was all in vain

i will kill myself

So What?

room with a view

shelf full of books

enough in the pantry

and the wallet

humble goals

modest existence

then past the allotted

three score and ten

the recycling chamber

Earlier:
Poessay: Rosary 1 - Pink Sand Beach
Poessay: Rosary 2 - Fishing
Poessay: Rosary 3 - Adam and Eve Limited - I
Poessay: Rosary 4 - Adam and Eve Limited - II
Poessay: Rosary 5 - Descending
Poessay: Rosary 6 - Dinner In The Park
Poessay: Rosary 7 - Under the Jamun Tree
Poessay: Rosary 8 - Voices In The Air
Poessay: Rosary 9 - Life Rosary I
Poessay: Rosary 10 - Life Rosary II
Poessay: Rosary 11 - Creating In Isolation
Poessay: Rosary 12 - Kohled Eyes

Poessay: the one time

temporal — Mon, 1 Sep 2008 03:23:30 EDT

Detail from Temptation and Fall Michelangelo
from the Sistine Chapel Ceiling

the one time she should have resisted the temptation to wave back...Benazir
the one time horses and donkeys should have resisted...
the one time pedestrian legends in their minds get off their horses...(defies logic- editor)
the one time Gore should have challenged the Senile Court
the one time Bush could utter a simple sentence...dream on
the one time Palestinians could roll over and play dead (like the immortal Hussain of Karbela)
the one time Israelis could resist ghettoising and Bantustising...
the one time Nelson Mandela could lay it on Mugabe
the one time she should have resisted my advances...OK it is conjectural...and the Editor agrees
the one time riders run and horses ride...only in Wonderland
the one time the bulldozer had stopped dead...instead of Rachel Corrie
the one time a bullet could be recalled...Arch Duke Ferdinand...runners-up JFK, MLK, Gandhi, LAK...
the one time commonsense should have held his peace (OK disregard one time)
the one time smallsquirrel should have bitten her lips (hmmmm...not likely)
the one time i should have held my peace (one time?)
the one time the driver was not drunk...Diana
the one time the snake should have refrained...

Poessay: Rosary 12 - Kohled Eyes

temporal — Sat, 30 Aug 2008 02:35:08 EDT

maybe…just…
the bird perched on that leafless tree
has no wings

fasurda bulbul
zakhmON ki paasdaari kertay hu’aye
shaakh per baithi hay

the smiling eyes
on the mime's face streaking red rained fate
or vodka

woh shOkh aankhiaN
lakh duk’h chupha’aye muskurati
rehti haiN sada

the kohled eyes
behind shades, under the wide hat
mystifying

the speaking eyes
smiling, mischievous, inviting - or red
and swollen

hard to know
unless we discard blinkers and peer
intently

Earlier:
Poessay: Rosary 1 - Pink Sand Beach
Poessay: Rosary 2 - Fishing
Poessay: Rosary 3 - Adam and Eve Limited - I
Poessay: Rosary 4 - Adam and Eve Limited - II
Poessay: Rosary 5 - Descending
Poessay: Rosary 6 - Dinner In The Park
Poessay: Rosary 7 - Under the Jamun Tree
Poessay: Rosary 8 - Voices In The Air
Poessay: Rosary 9 - Life Rosary I
Poessay: Rosary 10 - Life Rosary II
Poessay: Rosary 11 - Creating In Isolation

Poessay: Rosary 11 - Creating In Isolation

temporal — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 03:59:02 EDT

Is utter isolation the flip side of the intense focus necessary for creating? Some become reclusive and others maintain a public profile - guess to each his or her own. How far removed is the sculptor from the sculpture?

Know what I would be doing when this hibernation is over. Big time pruning. Will whip this into an essay. No, no I protest to myself. Will make this into an essay and a stream of consciousness piece. No, have a better idea. After I have pruned the essay will separately add these thoughts in the middle of the essay and see what emerges. But it still needs a summation, an effective round up and closing if it were an essay, I tell myself.

In the mind seas thoughts ferment, brew, overwhelm and dissipate with the ceaseless intensity of the waves hitting the shore. Some return to make their mark, others whither or whirl to strike at distant shores.

Thoughts strike alike the living and the petrified. Innocent or enigmatic contemplation provides the wind in sails, passion in emotions. The magic potion between irresistible dreams and impossible logic: cerebration. And meditation? One a wind and the other cloud? The petrified remain untouched, unharmed and unaffected.

Nothing comes between the neurons of an agile mind and the keyboard, the brush and the canvas, the chisel and the rock, when the creator is obsessed and driven. The result endeavors to capture, share and reflect the clarity of that moment of revelation.

The existential angst mixes with atomic intensity and bombards the restless mind. In desolate and hostile terrain of Living, it creates images that unblur Truth, Beauty, Appreciation, Stillness and Life. Life keeps returning. No death can keep it at bay. Disaster, calamities, dictators and ultra-orthodox firebrands do not know this.Earlier:
Poessay: Rosary 1 - Pink Sand Beach
Poessay: Rosary 2 - Fishing
Poessay: Rosary 3 - Adam and Eve Limited - I
Poessay: Rosary 4 - Adam and Eve Limited - II
Poessay: Rosary 5 - Descending
Poessay: Rosary 6 - Dinner In The Park
Poessay: Rosary 7 - Under the Jamun Tree
Poessay: Rosary 8 - Voices In The Air
Poessay: Rosary 9 - Life Rosary I
Poessay: Rosary 10 - Life Rosary II

In Our Stride

RukmaniRam — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 00:42:59 EDT

't all is now a distant memory
What I was to you, what you were to me
What it was, and what it could be.

I had hopes, you had a dream,
A quest, to be supreme
And we each were lost, in this worldly scheme.

I can see now, 'twas a mistake
Putting life on pause, for success' sake.
I look back now and I ache.

Now I'm tired, I want to slow down
I'm not sure I really want the crown
Before it's too late, I want to leave town

To have an evening off, to read a book,
To go on a hunt for Tennyson's babbling brook
To listen and not just hear; to see and not just look.

But alas, on we pound
So far ahead, there's no one around
Not even each other, I'm left staring, without a sound

"Take time to smell the flowers
To enjoy the breeze and the showers"
Borrowed lines that I wish were ours.

Poessay: A New Cult?

temporal — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 00:40:13 EDT

...being wired as we are...allegedly...as human beings...we profess to follow or not follow the faith we were born into as we grow up...the degree of adherence and questioning varies...and this is lifelong endeavor...the only individuals who consciously suppress this questioning and follow blindly are the born-again die-hards and they are universally despised and condemned...

...when it comes to religion (or faith's absence) in the end only this matters:do you feel good and do you spread goodness...if your faith or whatever dictum you profess to follow in life does not enhance your life and the life of those around you then it is suspect...

...this simple temporal test is applicable to all of us...those who are born into a faith or belief system and those who later in life reject, modify, or acquire another faith or value system...you must feel good and spread goodness (happiness) around...during this temporal sojourn...

when i confessed i am human
who is not she countered
[....fast forward]
why not try to curb your faults?
wondered what good was my confession
but knowing where it came from
said i, appreciate and thanks

did i change my ways afterwards
no, but it is nice to know she cared

* * *

when will this journey end?
you don't want to know dear
why?
because
life is one big journey
and when this journey ends
we stand to lie still

Poessay: Rosary 9 - Life Rosary I

temporal — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 03:25:25 EDT

friendships
alien riverbanks
doomed

desis
keyboard warriors
victimless

fusion
melting identity
fission

tears
soul diamonds
precious

delirium
defying reason
turbid

dementia
colliding neurons
bedlam

lust
function of
dysfunction

muhabbat
nigah ka takrao
irtiaash

muhabbat
a’na ka takrao
dead-end

muhabbat
jhuki nazraiN
wisaal

nazar
nazrON ka tasado'om
bilmaqsad

nazar
nazaON ka tasado'om
bilamaqsad

Poetry: hampered

temporal — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 12:51:08 EDT

Mr. P L Desi*

born free
family
city
school
college
university
friends
society
singly and collectively
pile and hamper
tint and prejudice

Mango Man*

born free
large family
hunger
no school
work
scrounge
scavenge
acquires
street smarts
succumbs
to prejudices
also without
realizing

You and I

also born free
once....

____

* P. L - Pyare Lal, PaRha Likha, Pervez Latif, Parmjit Ludhianvi
* Mango = Aam, Man = Aadmi

	Roget's II: The New Thesaurus
Main Entry:	hamper
Part of Speech:	verb
Definition:	To restrict the activity or free movement of.
Synonyms:	chain, fetter, hamstring, handcuff, hobble, leash, manacle, shackle, tie, trammel, basket, block, clog, confine, container, cramp, crate, curb, embarrass, encumber, fetter, foil, frustrate, halter, handcuff, handicap, hinder, hobble, impede, inhibit, load, manacle, obstruct, pannier, restrain, restrict, shackle, slow, stymie, trammel

Poessay: Rosary 8 - Voices In The Air

temporal — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 09:21:56 EDT

Do they hear voices? What if I write do they also hear voices? Shhh….speak softly. You know you do not hear voices out of ether. You hear and read looks, glances and thoughts. And interpolate, interpret and re-interpret. Have you forgotten who hears voices out of thin air? And what happens to them?

While in that room with monster speakers and dark-flashing strobes, heard the call. Not the grotesque rendering of fine verse and equally distorted rhythms but irresistible urges that lure you to the special peace of quiet, away from that oasis of cacophony. The headache caused by the palpitating strobes provided an excuse to leave.

The key in hand is an alien intruder in the lock. So I walk back to the front desk. 'You got the right key, Sir.' Hmmmmm. Maybe the building moved! The key works fine this time. Fetched a pen and some papers and walked back to the beach. Under a floodlight found a chair and started imprisoning fleeting thoughts.

An unbridled chasm between reality and logic bridged by words throbs.

Celestial lubrication.

But there is no PC, no laptop, just some photocopied papers where the reverse is write able. So started capturing them at random and am desperately trying to read and key in the words now.

Forget those words, focus on the thoughts. Capture the stray soldiers now, reflect upon the pincer movements later. Time enough to record the battles and wars.

What would they say?

Who cares was the first reaction. Depends on they too. Have never cared enough about them. So who cares holds.

Poessay: The Winter of Discontent

temporal — Sun, 10 Aug 2008 02:18:16 EDT

credit: katsetsuna

the winter of discontent

leaves break out…blades periscope...suddenly green waves...replace the morbid...white-grays of winter…buds splash colours…in timeless blur...lovers waltz and whirl...sparrows seemingly chuckle…leaves descend...to embrace the blades...birds flock to greener pastures...cottages are locked up...and sunbirds head for the keys...then a whiff…of piercing wind...heralds the steely winter...parkas come out…but for "xk"...the winter of discontent…continues, wonder why

the winter of discontent

leaves break out

blades periscope

suddenly green waves

replace the morbid

white-grays of winter

buds splash colours

in timeless blur

lovers waltz and whirl

sparrows seemingly chuckle

leaves descend

to embrace the blades

birds flock to greener pastures

cottages are locked up

and sunbirds head for the keys

then a whiff

of piercing wind

heralds the steely winter

parkas come outbut for "xk"

the winter of discontent

continues, wonder why