My Faith

I stand poised
into yogic posture
unmoved by distractions
The reptiles of desires
crawl all over me
seducing me
hoping that I could bend
just one miniscule of nerve
but determined and stubborn
I stand there merged,
stagnant,
into the walls of faith
until I find
my ultimate goal
of salvation

Witches' World

Liquid dreams
Escape
Passing through the crevices
Of deep sleep
Into the make-believe world
Where witches are friends
Sitting on golden throne
Making magic broth
That sits on their palm
Sprinkling the mischievous desires
That led to an impossible world
Nothing is evil no more
Gloom is unknown
Wicked laugh reigns
Sin is intoxicating drink
Cherished and nurtured
Until
The first ray of light seep in
Knocking
To end this bliss

By the sea-shore

The calm spread all over the sky as it saw its reflections on the smooth layer of waters, it waited patiently for the hours to pass, soon, there would be twinkling stars dotting the sea and dark blue sky would merge into night with only the stars guiding the moon.

Copy-Paste

Copy-paste is easy way
To escape from
Tumbling thoughts and
Risk damage to my nerves

Why break my spine
When facts are out there
Carefully logged by some one
with better wit than I

I would rather use my mind
To plan my progress
Towards my next station
Of comfort

If you force me to write
Something
That does not move me
Nor stir any chord within me
I will copy-paste for you
Wrap it with a ribbon
Of great new idea
And present it to you

You must not nitpick
Nor carp my verse
Cause you were too lazy to
Research it yourself

Truth is out there
Millions years old
Reshuffled, churned, dyed,
Squeezed, battered, recycled

I did not want to touch it
Nor feed my own core
You forced me, knowing not
That I had a mind of my own
That celebrated each moment
With a new untouched goal

Just for me, I sing
The original love song of my soul

Greetings to Preeti Bose

For a friend, Preeti Bose, whose every status post on FB is poetic verse. I think she deserves something written especially for her in a poetic language that she understands..

So, when the opportunity arise to wish her on her birthday, my muse swings with joy and sings a special verse on her special day:

"The white face of moon blushes turning deeeep red, reading your lines. as u play with your words unfolding the nakedness of a verse, it turns its head slightly, shyly. wishing you well on your great day......I push the moon aside cause its now my turn to wish u......
Happy Birthday..May your muse shine upon u."

And why not?

She writes so beautifully.... I luv it...Once she wrote:

"I wish to reach out
and touch your smile
for now, will gently caress
my memory of you.
wonder if you are in the know
when we walk together
fondness walks next to us,
in that sinuous aisle
of a make-believe world......."

......and many more of her beautiful poems are there on her blog.

so an ordinary birthday greeting won't do, na?

Volcano

Write I must
But words must flow
Erupting from deep inside
The volcano
Full of heat and fire of my soul

How do I write for you?
I need to be inspired
I need to be moved
or may be tickled up in my raw bone

I honestly cannot write for you
If I don’t really feel that glow

Blog Swapped Into Pockets of Inspiration

If you like this



Or this




then you must visit Pockets of Inspiration a blog which has lots of great ideas to keep your self busy on a rainy day when, (even your computer does not cooperate) and you are able to while away your time producing beautiful, creative stuff from the materials such as paper and odds and ends.

I stumbled upon this blog when I signed for blog swap at netblogging. What was a poet like me doing at art corner? Well, poets get inspired by anything that moves (or doesn’t move).

During the time away from my poetry, when my muse looked for inspiration, Melanie’s blog appeared in blog swap and here I am, hooked for days, learning the tricks into another creative world……at

I love this blog because it is meant to offer inspiration for creating your own works of art with the use of rubberstamps.

And I am loving it….

Do visit Melanie's blog and enjoy the joys of inspirations. I am going back to her blog, come on, come along........

Agony

We constantly tire of tedious peace
And look with yearning
For the challenge of agony
And when it arrives
Its painful now
Its bitter arrows sting
Till it bleeds
No balm eases the mental wounds
When deeper the poison seeps within
Killing the soul that could fly
Over the oceans of happiness
Its wings are clipped
It lies wounded
Forever obstructing
The tranquil and peace.

Painful

Nothing lasts forever
Nor fame, nor name
Nor friend, nor foe
Everything comes around
To haunts us even more
Foolishly
We get entangled
Knowing its results
What brought us laughter
Someday
Is the cause of our pain
Today
Hindering our thoughts
Hijacking our emotions
Smile is just another curve
To hide the actual shade
We feel hollow within
Something chewing up our brain
Helplessly, we move on
Yet again
To another station
Where they sell
New supply of pain

Sometimes

Sometimes

Poetry can paint true feelings
Even when laced with random thoughts
Colors, designs, shapes inter-locked
Captured inside an intricate prints

The eye within sees the colorful shades
With different hues at titled angles
Thoughts mingle with greater ease when
Words emerge refreshed from painted canvas

They jump off easel with renewed verses
Unlocking rhythm of compressed thoughts
Colors, design, shapes, unzipped
Poetry jumps to express the feelings

Godawful poems # 15

RIP to 15 Bad Poems

A poem without a thought
A thought that leads to a poem
No edits no cuts
Emotions may sometime rust
But messages were clear
In godawful fortnight they were normally sneered
In rhymes with chimes
The verses brought tears
To those who cared
And nursed their muse
Now I too rest, this nonsense must end
Shall be back to normal poems
RIP bad poem, will pamper you again
Maybe
Next year.

Godawful Poetry Fortnight

Godawful poems # 14

My Online Friends

I wandered lonely as a cloud
Over the virtual webs and popular links
When all at once I saw a crowd
On FaceBook they were having chills
Beneath the super pokes, beneath the quiz
Flittering through my inbox streams

Continuous they would kill the time
And chatted on that gossip line
They stretched their words on my personal wall
Along with thoughts and quotes of day
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Pollute my news feed with words that dance

I looked for a friend who meant much to me
But his news feed was most unwelcomed to me
Until I went visiting his personal page
And saw the activities of his day
I read and read his every space
Then surprised I was that he has a new mate

The game of scrabble is on hold
Words twirl and Mafia wars he plays no more
The games he plays now, obnoxious to me
I am sad, conflicted, unpleasantness surround me
It lasts for a moment, just a while, when
A group of better friends come on line.

Godawful Poetry Fortnight

Godawful poems # 13

Jai Ganesha

This Ganpati festival, I visit my friend where Ganpati is the Guest, I want to talk to the idol but my voice is drowned under the loud sound of music, and I cannot hear myself speak so I decide just to eat the Prasad that is delicious and which Idol may not eat.

I tell my friend that Ganpati is too uncomfortable, lower the volume, so that He can hear my prayers, but she argues that to get into the groove and get positive vibrations the loud decibels need to seep through her skin pores to enter her stream.

I tell my friend to sing soft hymns in praise of Lord, the sweet melody of vocal chords have much devotion and is soothing to the nerves but she prefers to play the recorded tunes so un-clearly sung with Bollywood themes

I tell my friend that if Ganpati go deaf, he may not hear her plea, her unfulfilled desires and her grief but selfish that she is, she plans to scream into His ears her fantasies and her impossible dreams.

On the beach she stands with Ganpati in her hand, before her final goodbyes, she is shouting “Ganpati Bapa Moriya, come again the next year”, again another scream!

I nibble my nails, I am too much under strain and I wonder whether Ganpati will forget the cruelty in one year and come back again? Maybe He will not, not even in her dreams!

Godawful Poetry Fortnight

Godawful poems # 12

Sinner

I hate to sin but love the sinner
In every act I am still all time winner

Under the table, I offer him cake
Icing done above, though it is all faked

Ministers, constables, or any corporate sister
All are in a team to extract something sinister

Nothing can be accomplished on a straight path
Zigzag I go, curving on their wavy heart

Forms and reforms have invisible dotted lines
I give them some bribe, they appear in no time

Long queues are cut for influential caught in rut
Over a glass of beer, all the obstacles are shut

Foolish I would be if I was not ready to sin
Why waste time at judicial courts,
When it is so easy to win?

Godawful Poetry Fortnight

Godawful poems # 11

Reply to Raamesh…

Oh well! Oh well!

You think of suicide by drowning in the well? But when you think of her, you say, “Save me, save me!”

You opt for a dope, though you wanted to take a rope but when you hear her sweet voice, you say, “Save me, save me!”

Poison might work for you cause your neighbors are not so rude, they love her melodious voice, and don’t hear you say, “Save me, save me!”

Guns are shunned when she walks over the barren land, the birds begin to sing and smile but still you cry, “Save me, save me!”

Ink is surely a relief but venom is never cheap. Somebody tell this Ozy to stop saying “Save me, save me!”

Godawful Poetry Fortnight

Godawful poems # 10

King Khan

Humpty Dumpty
And the King Khan
Were stopped at the immigration
Though it was not their fault
Both were famous
Both were smart
Still, media jokers promoted them to a
Publicity mall

Godawful Poetry Fortnight

Godawful poems # 9

Writer Wins

BJP party is full of ‘characters’
All pretending to hate Jinnah book
Forcing the writer to resign
For a crime of his personal expression

Members yawn as they see
The books disappear from the shelves
One by one,

Curiosity rules,
History emerges from the graves
Jaswant’s daily stingers rock

Expulsion from a party
Was not a dirty game
After all

Godawful Poetry Fortnight

Godawful poems # 8

Worthless, Waste of Time.

To rhyme without a dime is the waste of time
Even a wayward singer, on the road he sings
Collects a glance and a dime or two
But a writer or a poet
Will write and write and rhyme and rhyme
But he may never ever collect a single dime
For his time

Now isn’t that a crime?

Its a matter of utmost prime, when
His words are appreciated at a shrine
Sees his loved one depart before time
His memories he wants to make it shine
Telling the world about his clime
He doesn't think it is a waste of his time
So he gets words published in rhyme

And doing everything free was all fine?

But he saw his rhyme was used
At inner circle it was misused
If he wanted he could choose
To his sell godawful muse
So stuck-up he was in slime
Reached the scene out of line
None would hear his chime
They told him he was not on time

Alas!
Do poets have godawful worth of time?

Godawful Poetry Fortnight

Godawful poems # 7

NRI-Non Realistic Indians

They bought for me gifts
My NRI friends, relatives, uncles, mausas, mammis
Flashing their dollars, jingling their pockets
While I drooled over chocolates, they showed me their dental pearls
But that was years of seventies and eighties
When visa was rare and only rich relatives dared

But look at them now, in these times of recession
They envy our comfort, our capacity to race,
Our power of spending, and sometimes we are lending
Every common man on our street has a rich taste
Of mobile, and internet and web and surfing
While they carefully separate dollars without any grace
They have out-sourced their offsprings on to our side
while they sit thumb dwindling in this bad phase

We visit them now with our Indian goodies
They love our ethnic, colorful booties
They watch our movies, dance to our tunes
Even our local TV Channels they prefer over theirs
Our reality shows have NRI's participating
They grab our discards, which we don’t really wanting
Our gravies, our spicy food they too much liking
They are all now thinking of coming backing.

Godawful Poetry Fortnight

Godawful poems # 6

# 6

Suniti writes:

"O your eyes! O your Eyes!!
Like twin stars in the skies.
They make a storm
in my bosom arise!!

Lo! Behold !! they are
Peeping at me,
from a cloud of curls,
they slowly unfurl,
Pushing me towards
an early demise
Your eyes!!"

Reply to Suniti.....

Why do you ode to starry eyes
And compare it to twin stars in skies?

There are million stars shining up there
But in your bosom they cannot… All lies

They cannot peep from cloud of curls
Nor have I seen them slowly unfurl

Because stars, unlike eyes, cannot shine all day
They are visible only at night

Godawful Poetry Fortnight