Day
Like this
When I try
To create pun
Verse Special for me
But fail because my mind
Is occupied by stray thoughts
That block my mind against real things
Random happenings of day events
Cloud my judgment by crippling me all day
I walk for fresh air up to the window
Draw curtains a bit to look outdoors
Staring still at blooming flowers
Tensions melt and leave my side
Free at last from stiff nerves
Fresh moods cloud the frowns
Happiness reigns
Once more I
Feel some
Joy
The poetic form, "etheree," uses syllable count rather than meter and is unrhymed. It is named for its creator, a poet named Etheree Taylor Armstrong.
The basic etheree form has ten lines, the first consisting of exactly one syllable, the second line of two syllables, and so on until the last line's ten syllables. An etheree can also be reversed, starting with ten syllables and ending with one.
A "double etheree" combines the two, so is twenty lines, starting with one syllable, counting up to ten. Line eleven also has ten syllables and each line thereafter reduces by one until line twenty's single syllable.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
One Dark Stormy Night (Fiction)
It was dark and stormy night. Tejal and Salina emerged from the cinema hall after the late night show.
“Let’s wait till the rain stops”, said Salina.
Tejal looked at her watch, “Its 10:30pm, it is getting late. Hubby will be home by 11pm, listen, I have an umbrella, we both can share. If we wait longer it might get too late. We shouldn't have come for this late night show.” She said.
“Oh! Never mind; it was fun na?” said Salina as she squeezed closer to her friend under the umbrella.
The strong wind blew against their faces and it was getting difficult to hold the umbrella. They walked slowly on the side of the road. Both of them clung tightly to umbrella but were drenched from waist downwards. Luckily there were many more people returning home after a late night show.
“Only one more lane and we will reach home.” said Salina as they entered the lonely lane.
“Yeah! Not a good idea to go out on these rainy nights, the street lights have gone off too, it’s so dark. I am afraid, you know…” said Tejal
“Hahaaha! You are just being a coward.” Said Salina
Suddenly a huge, black car whizzed past them splashing the muddy water from the puddle wetting them head to toe.
“Hello, You idiot! What the hell!!” both of them shouted together.
The car screeched to a halt, reversed and stood next to them. A dark, fat man dressed in dark green cloak emerged from car.
“Get into the car.” he whispered, puffing the bad breath into their faces.
“Eeeww! Cough! Cough! Who are you? We don’t know you, why should we get into your car? Said Salina
“I said don’t argue with me, understand? Just get into the car or I shall slice you into small bitty bits.” he said extracting a shiny knife from his butt pocket.
“Take Salina with you, she is a single woman and has nobody waiting for her at home. I cannot go with you; my hubby will be home any minute now. Salina, go my dear, go with him, Who cares whether you reach home early or late? Try to understand, go” said Tejal
“Nopes! I am not going without you.” Protested Salina
“I said get into the car, both of you, or I shall kill you both” he said talking through his clenched teeth.
“But you have only one knife, and let me see if it is sharp enough to chop two women” said Salina trying to grab his hand.
“Being funny, huh?” he said, and poked her with the pointed tip just below her navel.
“Ouch! It hurts! Okay, you win. Come on Tejal, let’s go with him, maybe it's a short ride.”
As soon as they stepped into the car, there was a click of doors locking and the car picked up speed.
“He looks like our Sallu Baba na, look at his muscles.” whispered Tejal
“Yeah, maybe his cloak will tear and fly off his body if he shows some anger, like in the movie” laughed Salina.
"Uff! Oh!, his cloak is so loose, let me see if he is wearing a khadi shirt within"
"Shush, Shush!!" giggled Salina
Tejal fidgeted with the handles, turned them clockwise to lower the window pane.
“Al la loo ya! Aieya! Look Salina! Look, we are in the mid-air” screamed Tejal
“We are in the car, we are not in the airplane, silly”
“Arrey! Look! I am not joking. See that? There is water below, we are flying over the sea’”
“Hello, bhai saab, Sallu, can we call you Sallu? By the way, where are you taking us?”
“Shut up and sit quietly and let me concentrate on my driving” said the man
“But you are not driving, you are flying”
“Grrrrh! I said let me concentrate, my boss is expecting you.”
“Boss? You have a boss? Who is he?”
“You ask too many questions, why don’t you just relax and you will know it soon.” He said as he steered towards a small hill in the middle of water.
“Is this an island? Your boss lives here?” said Tejal as the car came to a halt in front of a huge castle.
“Get off the car” he roared.
Carefully they got off the car, it was still raining heavily and they were wet and cold. They walked towards the castle and knock on the huge iron door.
A bald old man in dhoti and cap, with a shawl draped over his shoulders opened the door.
“Wah! Wah! You brought two pretty young women for me today? Shahbaz putther, Welcome! Welcome” said the old man inviting them to walk in.
“Why are we brought here?” said Salina, stepping forward and resting her palms on her hips.
“Well! I am hungry, I asked him to get me one woman who will cook for me, but he has brought two women, that’s good! That’s very, very good!”
“But we will not cook for you” said Salina.
“You can just order food from Mc Donalds or from KFC. We normally order food from take-a-away outlet when we are tired and hungry and too lazy to cook” said Tejal.
“Hello! Can’t you see that this is an island and there are no restaurants here?”
“And what makes you think that we will cook for you?”
“Look ladies, you have no choice, either you cook for me or else I will chop you up and eat you raw.”
“You are not serious, are you? You can’t possibly eat a human, that too two pretty women, would you? They do something else to pretty women, we read in papers all the time and its never chopping them to eat. Nah! It's not appropriate, me thinks” said Salina
“Yes I do, when I am hungry I don’t care what I eat.”
Tejal started to shiver and held on to Salina’s hand
“Okay, we will cook for you” said Salina, “but first we need to wash ourselves, we are feeling very filthy, can we change our clothes before we cook for you?”
“Yeah, that’s like a good girl, there are fresh set of clothes in the bathroom, go wash and change while I defrost some fresh meat,”
Salina and Tejal held each other’s hands and slowly walked towards the bathroom, then turned to the other room, hastened their footsteps, walked towards the main door and started to run.
They ran faster, looked behind them and saw Shallu following them. They ran faster and faster, running on the soft grass, running towards the beach and were about to jump into the water when they both tripped and fell down on their knees.
“Ouch!”
“Mamma, what are you doing on the floor?”
“Ooooh! Phew! Just a bad dream, thank goodness!” said Tejal as she held her daughter closer to her and wept.
“Let’s wait till the rain stops”, said Salina.
Tejal looked at her watch, “Its 10:30pm, it is getting late. Hubby will be home by 11pm, listen, I have an umbrella, we both can share. If we wait longer it might get too late. We shouldn't have come for this late night show.” She said.
“Oh! Never mind; it was fun na?” said Salina as she squeezed closer to her friend under the umbrella.
The strong wind blew against their faces and it was getting difficult to hold the umbrella. They walked slowly on the side of the road. Both of them clung tightly to umbrella but were drenched from waist downwards. Luckily there were many more people returning home after a late night show.
“Only one more lane and we will reach home.” said Salina as they entered the lonely lane.
“Yeah! Not a good idea to go out on these rainy nights, the street lights have gone off too, it’s so dark. I am afraid, you know…” said Tejal
“Hahaaha! You are just being a coward.” Said Salina
Suddenly a huge, black car whizzed past them splashing the muddy water from the puddle wetting them head to toe.
“Hello, You idiot! What the hell!!” both of them shouted together.
The car screeched to a halt, reversed and stood next to them. A dark, fat man dressed in dark green cloak emerged from car.
“Get into the car.” he whispered, puffing the bad breath into their faces.
“Eeeww! Cough! Cough! Who are you? We don’t know you, why should we get into your car? Said Salina
“I said don’t argue with me, understand? Just get into the car or I shall slice you into small bitty bits.” he said extracting a shiny knife from his butt pocket.
“Take Salina with you, she is a single woman and has nobody waiting for her at home. I cannot go with you; my hubby will be home any minute now. Salina, go my dear, go with him, Who cares whether you reach home early or late? Try to understand, go” said Tejal
“Nopes! I am not going without you.” Protested Salina
“I said get into the car, both of you, or I shall kill you both” he said talking through his clenched teeth.
“But you have only one knife, and let me see if it is sharp enough to chop two women” said Salina trying to grab his hand.
“Being funny, huh?” he said, and poked her with the pointed tip just below her navel.
“Ouch! It hurts! Okay, you win. Come on Tejal, let’s go with him, maybe it's a short ride.”
As soon as they stepped into the car, there was a click of doors locking and the car picked up speed.
“He looks like our Sallu Baba na, look at his muscles.” whispered Tejal
“Yeah, maybe his cloak will tear and fly off his body if he shows some anger, like in the movie” laughed Salina.
"Uff! Oh!, his cloak is so loose, let me see if he is wearing a khadi shirt within"
"Shush, Shush!!" giggled Salina
Tejal fidgeted with the handles, turned them clockwise to lower the window pane.
“Al la loo ya! Aieya! Look Salina! Look, we are in the mid-air” screamed Tejal
“We are in the car, we are not in the airplane, silly”
“Arrey! Look! I am not joking. See that? There is water below, we are flying over the sea’”
“Hello, bhai saab, Sallu, can we call you Sallu? By the way, where are you taking us?”
“Shut up and sit quietly and let me concentrate on my driving” said the man
“But you are not driving, you are flying”
“Grrrrh! I said let me concentrate, my boss is expecting you.”
“Boss? You have a boss? Who is he?”
“You ask too many questions, why don’t you just relax and you will know it soon.” He said as he steered towards a small hill in the middle of water.
“Is this an island? Your boss lives here?” said Tejal as the car came to a halt in front of a huge castle.
“Get off the car” he roared.
Carefully they got off the car, it was still raining heavily and they were wet and cold. They walked towards the castle and knock on the huge iron door.
A bald old man in dhoti and cap, with a shawl draped over his shoulders opened the door.
“Wah! Wah! You brought two pretty young women for me today? Shahbaz putther, Welcome! Welcome” said the old man inviting them to walk in.
“Why are we brought here?” said Salina, stepping forward and resting her palms on her hips.
“Well! I am hungry, I asked him to get me one woman who will cook for me, but he has brought two women, that’s good! That’s very, very good!”
“But we will not cook for you” said Salina.
“You can just order food from Mc Donalds or from KFC. We normally order food from take-a-away outlet when we are tired and hungry and too lazy to cook” said Tejal.
“Hello! Can’t you see that this is an island and there are no restaurants here?”
“And what makes you think that we will cook for you?”
“Look ladies, you have no choice, either you cook for me or else I will chop you up and eat you raw.”
“You are not serious, are you? You can’t possibly eat a human, that too two pretty women, would you? They do something else to pretty women, we read in papers all the time and its never chopping them to eat. Nah! It's not appropriate, me thinks” said Salina
“Yes I do, when I am hungry I don’t care what I eat.”
Tejal started to shiver and held on to Salina’s hand
“Okay, we will cook for you” said Salina, “but first we need to wash ourselves, we are feeling very filthy, can we change our clothes before we cook for you?”
“Yeah, that’s like a good girl, there are fresh set of clothes in the bathroom, go wash and change while I defrost some fresh meat,”
Salina and Tejal held each other’s hands and slowly walked towards the bathroom, then turned to the other room, hastened their footsteps, walked towards the main door and started to run.
They ran faster, looked behind them and saw Shallu following them. They ran faster and faster, running on the soft grass, running towards the beach and were about to jump into the water when they both tripped and fell down on their knees.
“Ouch!”
“Mamma, what are you doing on the floor?”
“Ooooh! Phew! Just a bad dream, thank goodness!” said Tejal as she held her daughter closer to her and wept.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Greener Tones
Heart knows not the limitless boundaries
It spreads carelessly over the greener tones;
Its fragrance, extending to the distant homes,
Searches coyly for lovers’ zones.
At the group called Wordmeisters, Poets and Writer-Unite on Ryze, they are having regular poetry contest every fortnight which will be on till thanks giving day 2010, whereby they put up a picture and we have to write a quatrain inspired by the picture.
A quatrain is a four-line poem and may or may not rhyme.
Mine was the runner-up entry, but the winner was A Picture Post Card
For your eyes, blue sky, green lawn
set for a colourful, breaking dawn;
water front, weather tower, cluster of cottages
all seem tied up as helpless hostages!
Copyright © 2010 by Manohar Bhatia
My winning entry can be found at http://www.jackhuber.com/quatraincity.htm
Heart knows not the limitless boundaries
It spreads carelessly over the greener tones;
Its fragrance, extending to the distant homes,
Searches coyly for lovers’ zones.
This photograph was taken in rural Nebraska near Lincoln by Jack Huber.
A quatrain is a four-line poem and may or may not rhyme.
Mine was the runner-up entry, but the winner was A Picture Post Card
For your eyes, blue sky, green lawn
set for a colourful, breaking dawn;
water front, weather tower, cluster of cottages
all seem tied up as helpless hostages!
Copyright © 2010 by Manohar Bhatia
My winning entry can be found at http://www.jackhuber.com/quatraincity.htm
Monday, September 13, 2010
September is 'Be Kind to Writers and Poets' month
You people are nice
and very kind, I must say
forgive me if I don't
come to read your post each day
but whenever I visit and
read this forum's page
I go back with the sweet words
of encouragement each day
lets not confuse kindness
with weakness this way
just an invisible smile
I am sending virtually across this day
See it!
Don't miss it!
Look!
It’s coming your way
Hope you remember me
in your prayers just for today
remember
I am your friend in every topsy-turvy way!!
Most of the forums at Ryze I enjoy to read, specially because they have a personal touch to it and the most favorite for me is at 'Wordmeister, Writer and Poets Unite' and they told me today that September is ‘Be kind to writers and poets month’ and September 12th being the National day of Encouragement, I wrote this to my friends on that forum
and very kind, I must say
forgive me if I don't
come to read your post each day
but whenever I visit and
read this forum's page
I go back with the sweet words
of encouragement each day
lets not confuse kindness
with weakness this way
just an invisible smile
I am sending virtually across this day
See it!
Don't miss it!
Look!
It’s coming your way
Hope you remember me
in your prayers just for today
remember
I am your friend in every topsy-turvy way!!
Most of the forums at Ryze I enjoy to read, specially because they have a personal touch to it and the most favorite for me is at 'Wordmeister, Writer and Poets Unite' and they told me today that September is ‘Be kind to writers and poets month’ and September 12th being the National day of Encouragement, I wrote this to my friends on that forum
Thursday, September 09, 2010
City Blues - (Form - Sestina)
When she moved into my house she looked quite stupid
The way she walked, her head she always scratched
She would spend her time watching TV all day,
At night she would go club hopping in the big city
I had let her use my vacant cold attic
For which she paid me a handsome rent
Then one day she complained about the rent
Said it was much too high and stupid
To pay for a hole which was just an attic
She was disturbed by a cat who playfully scratched
On her window panes that overlooked the city
She had grabbed the cat and scared him one day
She argued with me and left in anger that day
Without paying out her six-month-overdue rent,
Went searching for accommodation in a new city
Unsuccessful, she checked into a hotel, how stupid!
Where mattresses were worn out, furniture all scratched
Soon she realized she was more comfortable in the attic
How does one compare a hotel room to an attic?
These thoughts niggled and troubled her mind all day
When suddenly she found a card and vigorously scratched
Hurrah! Figures that flashed were enough to pay the rent
But the lottery was fake and she felt so stupid
Once again she was homeless in the big strange city
It’s a lesson you learn when you live in a city
All flats have rooms that are smaller than an attic
Those who move out and migrate to new towns are stupid
When was it easy to find a good home in one day
That would be quite spacious and yet have lower rent
You may only find a house with walls fully scratched
Wasted much time, her budget was scratched
Life was getting difficult, she felt lost in the city
Returned back to my house and paid up the rent
Moved into the same ole vacant cold attic
I heard her make a promise to herself that day
Never would she complain about anything that was so stupid
I am happy with the rent, but her ego is scratched
She feels like a stupid soul lost in the city
Hiding in the attic on this warm summer day
This is my first attempt on F.O.R.M Sestina
The way she walked, her head she always scratched
She would spend her time watching TV all day,
At night she would go club hopping in the big city
I had let her use my vacant cold attic
For which she paid me a handsome rent
Then one day she complained about the rent
Said it was much too high and stupid
To pay for a hole which was just an attic
She was disturbed by a cat who playfully scratched
On her window panes that overlooked the city
She had grabbed the cat and scared him one day
She argued with me and left in anger that day
Without paying out her six-month-overdue rent,
Went searching for accommodation in a new city
Unsuccessful, she checked into a hotel, how stupid!
Where mattresses were worn out, furniture all scratched
Soon she realized she was more comfortable in the attic
How does one compare a hotel room to an attic?
These thoughts niggled and troubled her mind all day
When suddenly she found a card and vigorously scratched
Hurrah! Figures that flashed were enough to pay the rent
But the lottery was fake and she felt so stupid
Once again she was homeless in the big strange city
It’s a lesson you learn when you live in a city
All flats have rooms that are smaller than an attic
Those who move out and migrate to new towns are stupid
When was it easy to find a good home in one day
That would be quite spacious and yet have lower rent
You may only find a house with walls fully scratched
Wasted much time, her budget was scratched
Life was getting difficult, she felt lost in the city
Returned back to my house and paid up the rent
Moved into the same ole vacant cold attic
I heard her make a promise to herself that day
Never would she complain about anything that was so stupid
I am happy with the rent, but her ego is scratched
She feels like a stupid soul lost in the city
Hiding in the attic on this warm summer day
This is my first attempt on F.O.R.M Sestina
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Aero Car
The Aero Car
The green hills welcomes the giant aero car
That swings like a cradle on a tight roped strings
“Ole! Ole!” whistles the sky, trees and the breeze
While the happy blue sea gurgles out its frothy squeals
There was a contest on writing quatrain verse by looking at the picture and this was my feeble attempt on the picture, although the winner was
Ayub Bangroo’s ‘We and Desires’
Desires keep us hanging around
no matter how deep the fall
sun, sky and soothing sound
let us not ignore the call.
Copyright © 2010 by Ayub Bangroo
Runner-up: Diane Tegarden's Getting from Here to There
Hanging above swift rapids
the daredevils whoop with joy
the poets envision dangerous delights
and the common man simply sees it as another crossing.
Copyright © 2010 by Diane Tegarden
The green hills welcomes the giant aero car
That swings like a cradle on a tight roped strings
“Ole! Ole!” whistles the sky, trees and the breeze
While the happy blue sea gurgles out its frothy squeals
There was a contest on writing quatrain verse by looking at the picture and this was my feeble attempt on the picture, although the winner was
Ayub Bangroo’s ‘We and Desires’
Desires keep us hanging around
no matter how deep the fall
sun, sky and soothing sound
let us not ignore the call.
Copyright © 2010 by Ayub Bangroo
Runner-up: Diane Tegarden's Getting from Here to There
Hanging above swift rapids
the daredevils whoop with joy
the poets envision dangerous delights
and the common man simply sees it as another crossing.
Copyright © 2010 by Diane Tegarden
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Your Non-Sensical Talks
The strict rules were made for you, not for me
Don’t bother showing me some sense in them, you see
Your sermons I flung them out of my window
They stank of old fashioned conservative ideas
Lets hope they don’t germinate like those that
Grew in Jack and Bean stalk tree
Imagine, if they did, the whole world would indulge
In senseless, useless talks
and you would be sorry for their misdeeds
This is written for Grandson of Godawful Poetry Fortnight
• Godawful Poetry Fortnight runs from the 19th to the 31st August.
• Our Patron Saint is William Wordsworth.
And he gets this signal honor for saying that poetry "is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." Way too many aspiring poets have rallied behind that banner, too few going so far as recollecting those emotions in tranquility, let alone reading the rest of the preface to Lyrical Ballads (which can be found on Bartleby, for those interested).
Links at http://zigzackly.blogspot.com/2010/08/grandson-of-godawful-poetry-fortnight.html%20, the event host.
Don’t bother showing me some sense in them, you see
Your sermons I flung them out of my window
They stank of old fashioned conservative ideas
Lets hope they don’t germinate like those that
Grew in Jack and Bean stalk tree
Imagine, if they did, the whole world would indulge
In senseless, useless talks
and you would be sorry for their misdeeds
This is written for Grandson of Godawful Poetry Fortnight
• Godawful Poetry Fortnight runs from the 19th to the 31st August.
• Our Patron Saint is William Wordsworth.
And he gets this signal honor for saying that poetry "is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." Way too many aspiring poets have rallied behind that banner, too few going so far as recollecting those emotions in tranquility, let alone reading the rest of the preface to Lyrical Ballads (which can be found on Bartleby, for those interested).
Links at http://zigzackly.blogspot.com/2010/08/grandson-of-godawful-poetry-fortnight.html%20, the event host.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Queer August 2010
Grandson of Godawful Poetry Forthnight
August is bit queer-est month this year
Three days somersaulting five times, oh dear!
Five Sundays, five Mondays, five Tuesdays rolling
In one month occurring, was never so clear
Never heard that in last 823 years
August is bit queer-est month this year
Three days somersaulting five times, oh dear!
Five Sundays, five Mondays, five Tuesdays rolling
In one month occurring, was never so clear
Never heard that in last 823 years
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Grandson of Godawful Poetry Fortnight - Common Wealth Games
Common Wealth Games
What good are these games if you don’t even dare
To make some money and with Janta to share?
What Joy to make fake certificates to stiffen some collars
With easy transfer of two billion dollars
What joy to travel in huge, fancy cars
Specially imported from London without any scars
What joy to clean the fair skinned bottom
With soft dainty paper during fifteen days short term
What joy to work without any legal contract
and see every expat on a seat that is cracked
Thank you for the beggars that you have sent to my town
At every signal in Mumbai, all are dressed in evening gown.
• Godawful Poetry Fortnight runs from the 19th to the 31st August.
• Our Patron Saint is William Wordsworth.
And he gets this signal honor for saying that poetry "is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." Way too many aspiring poets have rallied behind that banner, too few going so far as recollecting those emotions in tranquility, let alone reading the rest of the preface to Lyrical Ballads (which can be found on Bartleby, for those interested).
What good are these games if you don’t even dare
To make some money and with Janta to share?
What Joy to make fake certificates to stiffen some collars
With easy transfer of two billion dollars
What joy to travel in huge, fancy cars
Specially imported from London without any scars
What joy to clean the fair skinned bottom
With soft dainty paper during fifteen days short term
What joy to work without any legal contract
and see every expat on a seat that is cracked
Thank you for the beggars that you have sent to my town
At every signal in Mumbai, all are dressed in evening gown.
• Godawful Poetry Fortnight runs from the 19th to the 31st August.
• Our Patron Saint is William Wordsworth.
And he gets this signal honor for saying that poetry "is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." Way too many aspiring poets have rallied behind that banner, too few going so far as recollecting those emotions in tranquility, let alone reading the rest of the preface to Lyrical Ballads (which can be found on Bartleby, for those interested).
Grandson of Godawful Poetry Fortnight ----Lucky lips
Grandson of Godawful Poetry Fortnight ----Lucky lips
If it works for you, it should work for me
Can do anything, only if there is money
Money, money, money, I adore tips
Look I have painted red my lucky lips
Love only if you have not been hurt before
Dance only when somebody you find to adore
Live like a king, if you are female then slips
Look I have painted red my lucky lips
May you have lots of maids to work for you
May all your rich friends stand close by you
With thousands in your purse, everything clicks
Look I have painted red my lucky lips
Sun shines brightly only behind my panes
Rainbow sometimes peeps after heavy rains
When I am bored, on the net I tweets
Look I have painted red my lucky lips
• Godawful Poetry Fortnight runs from the 19th to the 31st August.
• Our Patron Saint is William Wordsworth.
And he gets this signal honour for saying that poetry "is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." Way too many aspiring poets have rallied behind that banner, too few going so far as recollecting those emotions in tranquillity, let alone reading the rest of the preface to Lyrical Ballads (which can be found on Bartleby, for those interested).
If it works for you, it should work for me
Can do anything, only if there is money
Money, money, money, I adore tips
Look I have painted red my lucky lips
Love only if you have not been hurt before
Dance only when somebody you find to adore
Live like a king, if you are female then slips
Look I have painted red my lucky lips
May you have lots of maids to work for you
May all your rich friends stand close by you
With thousands in your purse, everything clicks
Look I have painted red my lucky lips
Sun shines brightly only behind my panes
Rainbow sometimes peeps after heavy rains
When I am bored, on the net I tweets
Look I have painted red my lucky lips
• Godawful Poetry Fortnight runs from the 19th to the 31st August.
• Our Patron Saint is William Wordsworth.
And he gets this signal honour for saying that poetry "is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." Way too many aspiring poets have rallied behind that banner, too few going so far as recollecting those emotions in tranquillity, let alone reading the rest of the preface to Lyrical Ballads (which can be found on Bartleby, for those interested).
Friday, August 20, 2010
Rigid rules govern our life
Rules tie me down with strict chains of discipline
“Can do this”
“Cannot do that”
“What will people say”
“Behave yourself”
Endless sermons from tight lipped men
There are thoughts in process brewing in my brain
Raw unfulfilled desires flushed down the drain
You judge me at every speech and even when I am quiet
Truth unguarded, pretense is your pride
Unless
I am born different, then you sympathize
You are ready to adjust
For you cannot decide
All your rules bend
There is freedom for me
I will sit on the floor
While you stretch over to teach
You forget all your rules
You will adjust and say
“Be yourself!”
“It’s all right”
All that because
I am a special child
You enter my world and understand my unique kingdom
Wait a minute..I speak thus under my Frames of Freedom
“Can do this”
“Cannot do that”
“What will people say”
“Behave yourself”
Endless sermons from tight lipped men
There are thoughts in process brewing in my brain
Raw unfulfilled desires flushed down the drain
You judge me at every speech and even when I am quiet
Truth unguarded, pretense is your pride
Unless
I am born different, then you sympathize
You are ready to adjust
For you cannot decide
All your rules bend
There is freedom for me
I will sit on the floor
While you stretch over to teach
You forget all your rules
You will adjust and say
“Be yourself!”
“It’s all right”
All that because
I am a special child
I have freedom to sit wherever I please
at my strange posture you are never displeased
You give me freedom to play with toys of my choice
I don't hear you whimper, You have a sweet voice
You allow me the freedom to choose my own best friend
Unknown to you are the vague society trends
You enter my world and understand my unique kingdom
Wait a minute..I speak thus under my Frames of Freedom
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Rains - (Form- Tanka)
Cooped into dark room
Afraid to walk on wet streets
One more day I rest
Rains slide playfully outside
Weaving slippery green grounds
(c) pushpee
Learnt about this form ‘Tanka’ from my friend Jack Huber
Originating in ancient Japan, a tanka (ton’- kah;) consisted of a haiku sent by mail or messenger and a two-line reply added to it for the returned message. Now tankas are composed in their final, familiar five-line format.
You may recall that haiku does not rhyme and consists of 17 syllables in three lines in a 5–7–5 format (five syllables in line one, seven in line two, then five again). A tanka adds two unrhymed lines of seven syllables each, for a total of 31 syllables. It can be in the 5-7-5-7-7 or in the two-stanza 5-7-5 ... 7-7 format.
Since they are short, titles of tankas may be taken from the poem’s first line or a key line, or are simply numbered, though naming poems is completely up to the author without specific rules.
Afraid to walk on wet streets
One more day I rest
Rains slide playfully outside
Weaving slippery green grounds
(c) pushpee
Originating in ancient Japan, a tanka (ton’- kah;) consisted of a haiku sent by mail or messenger and a two-line reply added to it for the returned message. Now tankas are composed in their final, familiar five-line format.
You may recall that haiku does not rhyme and consists of 17 syllables in three lines in a 5–7–5 format (five syllables in line one, seven in line two, then five again). A tanka adds two unrhymed lines of seven syllables each, for a total of 31 syllables. It can be in the 5-7-5-7-7 or in the two-stanza 5-7-5 ... 7-7 format.
Since they are short, titles of tankas may be taken from the poem’s first line or a key line, or are simply numbered, though naming poems is completely up to the author without specific rules.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Yay!!! I won the poetry contest again - the third time
On one of the forums at Ryze, they are having regular poetry contest every fortnight which will be on till thanksgiving day 2010, whereby they put up a picture and we have to write a quatrain inspired by the picture.
A quatrain is a four-line poem and may or may not rhyme.
The first poem that I had won earlier was Frozen to Stillness
The second poem was Come Back Soon
This is the third poem which made it to final list.
Below are the picture that they posted and my quatrain on it below the picture.
Hushed voices trapped behind colored frames
Crisscrossed, the thoughts rotate from side to side
Silence speaks under the pillars of courage
Whispering gently under its beams with joy
My winning entry can be found at http://www.jackhuber.com/quatraincity.htm
And the Runner-up: Anthea Burson
The Church of Adolescence
The sun shines through stained glass windows
At The Church of Adolescence
Exposing whispering children
Racing marbles down steel rails.
Copyright © 2010 by Anthea Burson
A quatrain is a four-line poem and may or may not rhyme.
The first poem that I had won earlier was Frozen to Stillness
The second poem was Come Back Soon
This is the third poem which made it to final list.
Below are the picture that they posted and my quatrain on it below the picture.
(c) Jack Huber. This picture was taken in Kansas City
Hushed voices trapped behind colored frames
Crisscrossed, the thoughts rotate from side to side
Silence speaks under the pillars of courage
Whispering gently under its beams with joy
My winning entry can be found at http://www.jackhuber.com/quatraincity.htm
And the Runner-up: Anthea Burson
The Church of Adolescence
The sun shines through stained glass windows
At The Church of Adolescence
Exposing whispering children
Racing marbles down steel rails.
Copyright © 2010 by Anthea Burson
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Street Smart (55-ers)
She sat in the hot sun selling friendship bands. Hundreds of plastic alphabets spread before her. She knew that one could make words by stringing them together. I picked up letters to spell my name, she correctly calculated the total cost. While rich kids learnt their mathematics at school she learnt them all on streets.
Saturday, August 07, 2010
Goodbye
This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 13; the thirteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
Just one pair of slippers, one set of robes
One picture of me with a smile adorned
A wee bit of cash, suffice for last rites
Await I in queue, at heavenly gates, outside
Time moves closer, the deeds must be right,
Finishing off my chores, keeping aches aside
Chains cannot break without a fight
Packing all your love, leaving hatred behind
Free from attachment, will hop to another world
Shall leave this strange world for another light
Final journey may end with a brisk good bye
Each moment now, a bonus day and night
Mourn not my death, it is but a waste
For I may never visit your obituary page
You may too wait behind, just don’t cut my line
There are no shortcuts, we all go when ripe.
But till we meet again in heaven or in hell
You may touch me a moment
Before a brief good bye
What’s on my mind:
Death is a reality, we should all be ready to go anytime. If we learn to live each day of our life as an extra bonus day, we learn to appreciate life. That is why it is important to keep our selves happy at all times because we live only once and every moment should be cherished.
Why do we feel so sad when the thought of going away from this world comes to our mind? Why are we afraid of death?
It is true that whenever we are in pain we want to end this pain. We want to be released from this pain journey, we lose our endurance and our tolerance. But when we see our near and dear ones, we change our minds. We don’t wish to go. We are terribly attached to this world. Attached not only to people but also to our things, to our materialistic possession even though we clearly know that we will take nothing with us, We don't need anything, but enough to last for one journey from this world to the next, only one pair of clothes to cover us and little money to bury us but still, we spend all our lives chasing the gold.
The main goal of our life is to find happiness and spread it. With happiness, we can add humor to our lives. That humor is the spirit that keeps us going. Those who don’t have sense of humor spend their life in self pity, becoming more and more miserable and in depression; all that one can think is the final goodbye….
The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
What use is the poetry?
Of what use is the poetry
if it doesn’t stir the soul
The disturbing thoughts,
peeled off layer by layer
Find newer meanings
at its core
if it doesn’t stir the soul
The disturbing thoughts,
peeled off layer by layer
Find newer meanings
at its core
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Random thoughts - Nature
If the Earth moved just to yawn a bit, utterly bored of human carelessness, we would get to see the nature's wrath.
Image source: google
Monday, August 02, 2010
Cannon
This fortnight Jack Huber posted this picture on the forum for us to write a poem.The photo from the Quatrain City Contest this week was taken at a restored fort in the Domincan Replublic
I wrote a poem inspired by this picture
Exiled here and incredibly bored
Two canons stand silent, “Shoot!” I was told
There is no danger in sight, the sea calm and quiet
Sweet fragrance beckons, I feel swept towards home.
The winners of this round was: Khurshid Alam
Rescue Against Fire
In the vast blue umbrella, two holes of
fire poke threatening me to warm ‘gainst
the cold water. Luckily a shelter
I have at the other end of the hill.
and the Runner-up: Diane Tegarden
Silent Cannons
Calm seas and blue skies
leave no memory of the ravages of war,
but silent cannons wait patiently
attesting to man's readiness to defend against invasion.
Exiled here and incredibly bored
Two canons stand silent, “Shoot!” I was told
There is no danger in sight, the sea calm and quiet
Sweet fragrance beckons, I feel swept towards home.
The winners of this round was: Khurshid Alam
Rescue Against Fire
In the vast blue umbrella, two holes of
fire poke threatening me to warm ‘gainst
the cold water. Luckily a shelter
I have at the other end of the hill.
and the Runner-up: Diane Tegarden
Silent Cannons
Calm seas and blue skies
leave no memory of the ravages of war,
but silent cannons wait patiently
attesting to man's readiness to defend against invasion.
Sunday, August 01, 2010
An ode to my friends
Colors of friendship vivid and alive
Sparkle and shine with hues so bright
Lucky is soul who is blessed with a friend
True and loyal who will cling till the end
Through trough and crest and hardship of life, no
Matter what holds, true friendship has a smile
To sail in love through a long tiring day
In silence we hear what they meant to say
Like jigsaw puzzle they fit into slot
With one piece missing, feel completely lost
If a friend I find of such hues and shades,
Will pull down a rainbow and carve out their name
(c) Pushpee
Sparkle and shine with hues so bright
Lucky is soul who is blessed with a friend
True and loyal who will cling till the end
Through trough and crest and hardship of life, no
Matter what holds, true friendship has a smile
To sail in love through a long tiring day
In silence we hear what they meant to say
Like jigsaw puzzle they fit into slot
With one piece missing, feel completely lost
If a friend I find of such hues and shades,
Will pull down a rainbow and carve out their name
(c) Pushpee
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Come Back to Me (Form - Trilinea)
Come back to me
Your Memories
turn around to haunt me again
Rose, I miss you!
Thanks to Jack Huber for his tip on Trilinea.
Your Memories
turn around to haunt me again
Rose, I miss you!
Thanks to Jack Huber for his tip on Trilinea.
Similar to haiku, the trilinea is three unrhymed lines, leading me to believe that haiku was its basis. Its syllable count is slightly different at 4-8-4, for a total of sixteen. One large caveat: the word "rose" must be placed within the poem.Other than that, I can find no other requirements, so theme and title are at the poet's discretion, though including "rose" may dictate the subject somewhat. I have seen the word used as a color, a flower, an action and even a name, as well as the plural form, so evidently one can be creative with this rule.
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