Dubiety

admiring the gardens, what do I see?
blossoming flowers, tall green trees-
dandelions blooming with sweet pea;
puddle of water…err…dogs’ pee?

Illusion/delusion

Gazing in to her misted eyes,
he signed the marriage contract.
Giving in with softest of sighs,
she thought, “so what if he has cataract?!”

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# It is but a rough draft. I am not satisfied with it. I can't seem to get it the way I desire it. I posted it anyway. Suggestions are welcome.

Puzzled...Sunday Scribblings

This time the Sunday Scribblings prompt is puzzled. This word in itself is very puzzling. It has different connotations for different minds. What is puzzling for me might be normal for another. The big question is what all I am puzzled by?

I am puzzled by many things, some big, a few trivial. Religion, culture, caste, creed come under the bigger issues. Why do we fight because of those is beyond me. How can one human being believe himself to be superior to another is beyond my understanding. I wish for each one of us to respect the other, co-exist peacefully, if not with love. Call me a moron but that’s how it is with me. Maybe I am simplifying. Maybe I am wishing for the impossible, dreaming for the impossible. Ending it with a little thought:

Equality is what I wish-
puzzling over impossible dreams.
Better I get a dish-
& finish that chocolate-chip ice cream...

Click and get more puzzled.

In-between state of consciousness--Poetry Thursday

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The prompt for this thursday is the phrase--the body knows. I am not a body person. I am an all-heart person. Most of the times my heart rules, my mind approves, my body follows. Of course there has been exceptions..(*<*)

I have written this verse for a very close friend of mine. That person had too many issues and was going out of mind but is now coming out of those. The progress is slow but the worst has passed.

I salute you, my friend. This is dedicated to you with love.

In-between state of consciousness


body disengaged from mind-
mind dissociated from thought;
thought disconnected from spirit,
each single part going haywire.

the body pursued ceaselessly
its subsequent indecisive cure,
wishing acerbic flagon to
bring in the tranquility it craved.

various images vied for supremacy
creating perplexity inside the place
where mind and body conspire
adjacent to one another ad infinitum.

at the hub existed ineffectual self.
a soul with no initiative,
surpassed by the smallest of light
with its luminescent waves of realization

lucidity defined mind,
the body knew at last.

otherwise without comprehension,
where does the body take the mind-
where does the mind take the body?

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For more body and mind experiences, click body knows.

Funny Bone----A rant

Long time since I ranted. Time for one, me thinks. This one really makes me mad!

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Most people say that they would like to spend the rest of their lives with some one who can them laugh. They wish to meet someone who has a sense of humour. Frankly, I never understood what they mean by that.

Should he/she tickle them? Should he/she dance on his/her head? Should he/she act a clown? What do they want really?

How is that other person supposed to make them laugh when all they can manage, is a dour face to the rest of this world? Shouldn't we look into ourselves first before we demand anything like that from someone else? Why in the world should that person do it, anyway?

I have heard many saying that they couldn't bear to live with someone who can't make them laugh. I ask those people, why can't they have the ability to make themselves laugh? In the process, make the other person laugh too.

What is that they mean by he/should have a sense of humour? Does that mean he/she laughs at himself/herself but not at them?

I have seen people who claim they have a sense of humour, unable to take it when it is at their espense. They don't like sarcastic humour thrown at them but demand of others to grin and bear it.

Any takers for this rant? So what do you say to that, my blogger friends? Got any sense of humour?

Painfully yours...First crush...Sunday Scribblings

This time the Sunday Scribblings prompt is Crush… first crush, current crush, illicit crush, painful soul-crushing crush..

What I write is really about a school girl’s crush. A very naïve and stupid school girl in that awkward age where one tries to be a grown up but falls flat on her face. 25 odd years ago, we were very immature, not knowing how to handle our emotions. Come to think of it, I still haven’t learnt….

Compared to my last post Ambrosial, this one is rather tame!!

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Painfully yours.....

I was 13 years old, I think. One day my right hand started aching, just like that. I took some painkillers and ignored it. The fleshy part between the wrist and elbow, it reddened and swelled up. Now my parents got worried. So we took an appointment from the doctor. We reached at the appointed time but due to some sort of emergency, the regular doctor didn’t turn up. In place of him, there was this very young doctor, fresh out of medical college. My dad wasn’t too pleased but one look at him, I was thrilled to bits. He asked us to sit down and asked me what was the problem. I showed him my hand. He held it. My heart turned over. When he asked questions regarding that, I forgot to answer. I just kept looking at him idiotically. My dad answered those looking at me with annoyance. The doctor examined my hand, prodding the fleshy part. When he let go of my hand, it was kind of let down. The doctor did not look me into the eyes, wrote down medicines, asking us to come after a week.

As the doctor's clinic was very near our place, I used to go there just to get a glimpse of him. Some days I did see him. But I did not have the courage to say a word. I was a shy 13 year old. The hand did get better but come next week I was ready to go to the doctor, for my hand to be held by him. He was there but so was our family doctor. This time he handled it. The other doctor looked on, I looking at him. To give him credit he did avoid looking at my face. As I did not need any more medication, that was the end of it. I remember it with very vivid details as he was my first crush. I used to think of him but after a while I had huge this crush for West Indies cricket player, Vivian Richards. That is another story altogether...…:)

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Do chk in here for more on the topic.

Ambrosial----prose poetry

This week I write prose poetry. That is a tough one. Lately few prose pieces I have posted elsewhere, have been taken as poetry. I should be flattered really but I intended those as prose! In the simplest of words, prose poetry is a heightened piece of prose which reads like poetry. It has all the imagery, similes, metaphors of poetry but it has no line breaks. To know more about it, please do click here. To have an example of what is really a prose poetry, read this piece.


I hope what I have written here qualifies. If not, all of you are welcome to critique it. I would appreciate it very much.
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Ambrosial

Burrowing her face in the crook of his neck, with the luxury of satin sheets gloriously beneath her, she inhaled him to her core. Softly touching her, sharp pleasure shooting through him, he raised her face to his, his hazel-brown eyes looking and looking his fill, piercing her very soul. Her dark sleep- smudged eyes opened so wide and he wished to drown in them. Turning her around, he placed her on the feathered pillows. He lightly kissed her eyes, her pert nose, moving on to her ears, tracing the shell-like crevices, slowly traversing her sweet cheeks to her honey mouth. Stopping, tasting the essence of her; his hands seeking, pausing, moving... The soft light cast a shadow around them, lacy curtains billowing, the orange moon looking on and blessing. His beard tickling her deliciously to life, her warm hands restlessly moving all over him, wanting, needing, desiring all of him to the very depths of her. Then she woke up...alone.

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Now with line breaks: each single word is intact.

Burrowing her face in the crook of his neck,
with the luxury of satin sheets gloriously beneath her,
she inhaled him to her core.
Softly touching her,
sharp pleasure shooting through him,
he raised her face to his,
his hazel-brown eyes looking and looking his fill,
piercing her very soul.

Her dark sleep- smudged eyes
opened so wide and he wished to drown in them.
Turning her around,
he placed her on the feathered pillows.
He lightly kissed her eyes, her pert nose,
moving on to her ears,
tracing the shell-like crevices,
slowly traversing her sweet cheeks to her honey mouth.

Stopping, tasting the essence of her;
his hands seeking, pausing, moving...
The soft light cast a shadow around them,
lacy curtains billowing, the orange moon looking on and blessing.
His beard tickling her deliciously to life,
her warm hands restlessly moving all over him,
wanting, needing, desiring all of him
to the very depths of her.

Then she woke up….alone!

Another one bites the dust...

I had thought not to write anything for valentine's day but I too fell for it:


please, will you be my valentine,
we will go dancing and then dine?
"after last times' promises
i ended up doing the dishes,
no thank you, you bloody swine!"

Reflecting my current mood!

Rock You Like A Hurricane
By Scorpions
BestAudioCodes.com

Yummy!...................Sunday Scribblings

This time the Sunday Scribblings prompt is yummy. Very yummy!

Whenever we say or hear the word, it reminds us of love or food. Not necessarily in that order. I like baby smells. Those are yummy too. Yummy covers a whole gamut of unexpressed words. When we are unable to find any other word, we say yummy. Yummy!

Easier said than done. I thought this is was an easy enough prompt. It would be rather a cakewalk. But here I am dilly-dallying. My mind has gone blank. No yummy ideas anywhere..

I look out of the window. The weather is as gloomy as my thoughts…dark, drab and wet. Nothing yummy about such weather. What is it that is yummy for now?

I might as well give up on writing about this or maybe the following limerick would do? Last night I had an upset stomach. Here is to that:

With a heaving and upset tummy
I feel like an useless dummy
Looking at food
For now is, no good
I am least inclined to say yummy!

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Even writing poetry doesn't feel yummy right now..

To read more on yummy stuff, click here.

Transposition.....Poetry Thursday

This weeks' prompt is change. This is what came out of my thoughts.
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Transposition

with blazing tranquility
i stare at space,
seeing the various changes
vividly inside my mind.
the purple shades,
the orange hues,
intense colours
of my life
passing by.

shaking out
desolate thoughts’
i come out whole,
conceding decisively
my happiness
is what I am.

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To read more poetry on the topic, you can click here.

Coffee Tales..Haiku

sleepy awake state
so much caffeine in my body,
am now living dead

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I have not done this for a long time now. This came out of drinking too much of the beverage!

Finally....Sunday Scribblings

This week's Sunday Scribblings post for Goodbyes has acted as a kind of catharsis for me. An open goodbye from me, in broken sentences, disjointed thoughts. I have not edited it. I could not edit it.

Having known you for long,
I never thought one day I would stop knowing you.
Stop thinking of you.
Stop loving you.
Stop to share myself with you.
Stop.
Just stop.
How does anyone stop?
That complete whole part, how does one break it deliberately?
How does one even contemplate it?
Seems impossible, doesn’t it?

But I had to do this.
For myself.
For my sanity.
This unhealthy subjugation of me was taking a toll.
In all way possible.

I say good bye in the only way I can.
Cremating all that was there inside my mind
in the funeral pyre that is burning so bright within my heart,
within my mind,
within my soul.
Along with that I burn myself….
freeing me from that state which had taken hold of me
for so long
that I couldn’t see beyond it…

Finally I am free.
Free from that self-destructing force.
Finally I could do it.
Finally I said goodbye.
Finally I can see beyond you.

See within myself.

For more on goodbyes, check here.

Straight Curves---Poetry Thursday

This week's prompt was the very mathematical prove it. Here is my humble offering. I have written a few mathematical poetry before this. Here is another one!

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Straight Curves

straight lines over curves
never get on my nerves!

going off in a tangent
Isn’t that so very pleasant?

functions in parabola
as interesting as hyperbola!

wild algebra always dances
with geometrical nuances!

proving e is equal to m c square
is cakewalk for me, oh, dear!

verifying my love for you-
how do I make a breakthrough?

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To read more on the topic, do check it at proof positive.