slowly building it up

melted snow-
footsteps
on concrete path

Inspired by tikkis.

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

footprints on snow
aliens
from outerspace?

Inspired by John McDonald

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

mysteriously
misty snow
enters into my pores

Inspired by Snow floats by Ken Wagner

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

fog rolling in
dracula's daughter
lives in sin!

Inspired by midnight fog by J. Andrew Lockhart

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

knives of icicles
cannot prick into
my sandcastle dreams

Inspired by Sandcastle dreams by Janice Thompson

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

slipped yet again
into that precipice-
saved by a log

Inspired by Rain Melts by Ken Wagner

ranting in verse

For all my esteemed and regular blogger friends, I apologise profusely for posting this rant. But I am truly sickened by someone who refuses to be shrugged off. I barely even acknowledge her. (I simply delete her comments, as I don't want her to disgrace my sacred space). Also it is due to her, I have had to resort to moderating my comments. As you know, some people just don't get the hint. I sincerely hope this will get her off my blog. FOR BETTER.

I only regret NOT writing this before now!

In this verse, I don't care about grammar, tenses and what have yous!

my best efforts are not enough
to keep you away from my blog
like a pest you persist, thick-skinned
maybe in the mind too. filled with your own
importance, you overlook your arrogance
unwanted, unloved that you are
with oodles of time in your hands
frustration is what i believe makes
you lash out other's work, lack of your
own creativity gives you a complex.
instead of creating your own space
you impinge upon others. me ignoring you
somehow gets to you. it amuses me that
you try to hit out at me on other's blog space.

"keep doing that yet, I want to see how low
you can fall, deeply buried in your own muck"

Revision Redux

Anyone else out there in the process of revisions? If so, how’s it going?

Most of my poetry is instant, written at the spur of the moment or at a whim. That means what I post here are mostly raw and/or rough drafts. Initially when I started writing, I never used to go back improving upon on what I wrote. I just left it at that. However, now I do go back, read each line, think in other directions and work on it like as if it is new. Many a times, the piece has been completely re-written, word by word, line by line.

My short stories have taken different path from what I initially wrote. I do have a start of a novel somewhere and I intend to finish it, re-read it, edit it and re-write it. Editing is all important. Only now I have come to realise that fact. Good editing can make a book and bad editing completely mars it.

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

On a completely different note, I write this here. Lately I have been writing very short verses. Mostly inspired by a few fellow bloggers who excel in it, J. Andrew Lockhart, Ken Wagner, Lorraine, Bill and Borut. Not to forget Tikkis. (Infact it was like this with him, we used to post short verses to outdo each other a long time back.) A few I post as response to their posts in the comments, which comes instantly. I have even gone back, re-written those and posted on my blog. If anyone does it on my blog, it truly does not bother me. Infact I feel good that my post inspired it. And also if anyone else also posts a creative reply as comments in others blogs, it does not distract me. I read the comments (if I do that at all) after I post mine.

How about you? Do you think instant inspiration is ok? Should I or should I not post my instant response as comments?

digging doggedly

ruthless icicles in the deep freeze
caress other water molecules
which coalesce into each other

jagged ice act like sharp knives
digging doggedly into the edges
of molten space of my silence

psychedelic colours of which can
permeate some unknown vacuum
dreams dance their way through it

each jagged step ruthlessly caress
ramifications of which i know not

zen moments

A series.....


blank paper-
words
tornadoing in

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

tornado-
swirling storm
shuts out

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

shut out-
palm open
outwards

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

outwards-
dance steps
merge

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

merge-
with you
only I

To be continued....

if only-----

If only I had time
to write a novel-
now I just write haiku

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
rabbit looks
askance-
I stop suddenly

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

tractor leaves tracks
wheat boughs sway
are they dancing?

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

cut to stump
tree sheds tears
in cold breeze

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

peanut will sprout
anywhere
it only needs a will

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

sestina-
thirty nine lines?
prefer haikuing

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

If only I had time
to read you-
now I just feel you

phantasmagoria

in the middle of a hot summer night,
moon behind the cloud sheds orange light,
dancing fireflies are in a perpetual flight

tired, harried and hungry I arrive alone,
looking for a place to rest my tired bones
midst of nowhere, I see a house of stone

eerie silence permeates the surroundings
the sudden stroke of the clock enhancing
the hush. massive clouds above roaming

like phantoms playing without any care-
within walls, shadows have stillness to share
some unknown force beckons me into that lair

out of nowhere opens up a massive door
my legs giveaway, I fall down on cold floor
all my thoughts are on my body so sore

tentacles of what I know not, hit my heart
sweepingly seeping red fluid break it apart
to carry my deathless body they need a cart

said the spider to the fly

A simple tale told yet again....

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

standing at ceremony
I watch the lowly spider
(going on with much resolve)
yet cadence in its movement
weaving its web so fine
still with strength to hold
its aspirations of food

after fine tuning its web,
the spider watches a fly land
flaying its wings to escape
with one sweep of its long tongue
the humble spider demolishes
its prey, image of its delicate
work erased from my mind

"everything we do ultimately ends
in procuring food, is it not so-
do I still need to video tape it?"

clearly fading

rains pelting on
window sill-
memories fade

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

fresh snow
under the window-
fresh memories

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

in a drab day
footprints
mark my existence

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

touching those
colours which
swirl in memory

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

trying to write
short verses-
a pilgrimage?

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

Problems with my PC. Posting from work. Will get back to your blogs as soon as possible.

A Writer's Meme

Thanks Becca, for the meme.

What’s your favourite genre of writing?

In one word, I would say "poetry." But I also venture out for short prose pieces which are stream of consciousness one. I think more of Kafka whose writing is filled with symbolism too, instead of Woolf. Frankly I did not like Mrs Dalloway much. Marquez too is a master of both. The day I stop looking at the larger image, I will forfeit my creativity. Only when one looks at the bigger picture, one can attain some semblance into their writings and hence their lives.

No piece of writing is literal unless it is a newspaper report or translations of other's works. Even then one can read between the lines and interpret it in their own ways. I try to look at the less obvious ones, which are not understood by most. I find that certain journalists lack imagination when interpreting a creative work. They take it too literal or figuratve. For those, my message is: Grow out of it.

How often do you get writer’s block?

To this I would say, "whats that?" When I can't write poetry, I resort to writing book reviews which keeps the mind very open and receptive to outward sounds.

How do you fix it?

As I said before, by reading and writing book reviews. That way my tryst with writing never stops. And keeps my creative juices flowing.

Do you type or write by hand?

I used to write long hand but now I type directly into my PC. Saves time.

Do you save everything you write?

Yes and no. I save it all in the net world. Some hidden, some for all to see.

Do you ever go back to an old idea long after you abandoned it?

Yes, I have. Initially I never edited anything or tried to improve on my writings. Now I do because I have understood that editing is just as important as creating. It can make or mar one's work.

Do you have a constructive critic?

No, I don't have. I wish for it.

Did you ever write a novel?

I started a novel but never got around after 7000 odd words. Someday I will.

What genre would you love to write but haven’t?

Fantasy, magical realism, symbolic..these cover a whole range.

What’s one genre you have never written, and probably never will?

Paranormal. It puts me off. And self-help books too. I am no one to tell others how to lead their lives.

How many writing projects are you working on right now?

As I write only for myself, I would say none. Someday I mean to. I have been told that I write very well. So I ought to publish my work. I know my language skills are good but one still needs to hone up, no matter. Arrogance pulls us down.

Do you write for a living?

No.

Do you want to?

Yes I do. Who doesn't? But for that I need to be a much better writer than what I am right now. Yes, trash gets sold more easily. However, I don't really go for it.

Have you ever written something for a magazine or newspaper?

Yes, once I wrote a limerick for Valentine's day, which got published in a very well known Women's Magazine, Femina. But the lazy bum that I am, I did not send any more despite gettings mails from the editor.

Have you ever won an award for your writing?

No. NOT YET! *grin*

What are your five favourite words?

aeon: It somehow takes me to another land

semblance: I wish my life to be more orderly

lexicon: For obvious reasons!

gamut: It contains a whole range!

thoughts: Nothing can be as fertile as the mind!

Do you ever write based on your dreams?

Yes, I have. I do. Sometimes dreams contain our deepest desires and the symbolic part is very important to me. I am no analyst, neither do I wish to be one. I only wish to write about those. Thats it.

Do you favour happy endings, sad endings, or cliff-hangers?

For a voracious reader, anything works. I like loose ends too, which are open for interpretations. I write the same way.

Have you ever written based on an artwork you’ve seen?

Yes, of course. I love ecphrasis poetry. Looking at those artwork, one can entwine words with those. Interpreting any art work in poetry takes a lot of imagination and I enjoy doing it. Dali is a special one here. I have written lots of poetry based on his work.

unconnected

Here I highlight Ken Wagner, whom I found via Borut's blog. The short verses are my responses to his haiku, which I have posted in the comments. I have linked the posts below each. Do check those out.


cooped up
wrapped in a shawl
i observe the wall

Response to Wind Hits by Ken Wagner

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

looking at food
I see nirvana
haikuing dried up

Response to Night Drive by Ken Wagner

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

flickering light-
fireflies
taking flight

Response to Night Chill by Ken Wagner

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

trapped out
in the wet-
out of my brain

Response to So Trapped by Ken Wagner

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

chopping wood
all day long
i missed the butterflies

Chopped Wood by Ken Wagner

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

Thanks to Tikkis, Borut, Ken Wagner I am back at writing short verses.

golden freeze

Writing short verse after a long time..

golden sun
ogles greedily-
freezes ardor

setting about a routine

Writing comes fairly easy for me, especially poetry. Most of the times, I do it unthinkingly, some inkling of what I am going to write coming out of virtually nowhere from the recesses of my mind. It might seem strange as most know that I am a teacher, a mathematics teacher at that, who needs to discipline herself according to the demands of her subject. But when it comes to poetry, no rule is followed. Everything just goes haywire and my minds simply commands me to write. Many might relate to that. And a few might not. That's because some plan their wriing very meticulously. At times I do envy them, at others I simply do what my heart and mind tell me to. Yes, many a times, my heart takes over my writing, giving head a rest.

How do I talk about fresh start in this new year? For me each moment is new, which allows us to renew the way we wish to. Making concrete plan was never one of my virtues, not when it comes to writing. All I know that I need to write everyday, timing does not matter. I usually write from a different perspective of what others thing. I think out of the box. I can't restraint myself in any way, nor in writing or reading. Just as we need healthy food to nurture our bodies, we need diverse, varied thoughts to enrich our mind. Those act as organic food for the well being of our whole body. A healthy mind is the first step towards a healthy body, is it not?

Making resolutions about my writing goals is not really feasible for me. I don't know where it will take me. All I can truly achieve is by writing everyday, which I do. I simply pen down my random thoughts in a prose form in my journal, which might or might not turn into a verse. I am much nearer to stream of consciousness writing. In a way, I thrive in it. That kind of compels me to exercise my brain. Concrete images are very good but those which conjures up different ones, taking us to other directions is what I succeed. No one can always be a good writer. So I don't claim to be one.

Many a times, power of imagination is just round the corner, propelling me to write, to give my best. And that is not only in writing, that can for anything, everything. As I alway say to myself, winning over oneself is what I want. Not over any other human being. The ego has no place in my world. Striving to do my best is what I truly wish for, truly desire. It hardly matters if it is 2009 or any year. What matters is, each moment.

poem in draft-----somebody watching you

suddenly you experience fear
looking around you seek that source
thinking what schemes set about
false feelings of true panic
where nothing seems postive

unaware that from unknown peepholes
someone stares at you
without any fear of discovery
overhead from the elevators;
or mesh between two closets-

it pricks from undergrounds too;
in the labyrinth of pipes
under those crowed highways
he keeps himself hidden
with much deception

he might be your neighbour
one of your best mates yet
creeping into your life
possesing a perverted mind,
filled with sadistic streak

frenzied entropies

trying to taste coffee from your lips
I stop space and time with a kiss-
eroding all the rules of diplomacy
with madness and neurotic honesty

coaxing our flesh to confess
what our words never dare profess
simmering, shivering, reckless kiss
igniting arson between our hips’

inciting the surface of our skin
frenzied entropies lurks within,
catastrophe of emotions and thoughts
which alternatively distort and contort

we unwittingly undrape deceits,
writhing under the silken sheets.
molten tongues, roving palms
yielding to contagion of giddy charms

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

And don't forget to join the poetry train this Monday.

For richer and/or poorer : My top reads of 2008

I am adding this for Richer and Poorer. What better ways of getting richer than by reading?! Can anyone be poorer by the experience? Hope some of you check out a few books out of this list. Happy reading!

I was behind my target of 150 books to be read in 2008. I read 127, out of which I reviewed 96. I read maximum number of books in June, 26, reviewed 19 and least number of books in August, that is only 1.

I have done a post of putting up the 96 book reviews on my Reading Room. Here I am linking the top reads. Thought why not get my reading here too, once in while.

If interested, do click on the titles to reach my review posts! Enjoy!

These are my 10 best reads of 2008

The Road by Cormac McCarthy**
Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami**
Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman**
Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher**
Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie**
Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie**
Yellowknife by Steve Zipp**
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak**
Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier**
The Outcast by Sadie Jones**

Graphic Novel

Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi*

Poetry books

Ariel by Sylvia Plath**
The Sounds of Poetry--A Brief Guide by Robert Pinsky*
Tangled in Wisteria by J. Andrew Lockhart*

5 Short stories:

Shorty's Paradise by T. Coraghessan Boyle
Natasha by Vladimir Nabokov
Awake by Tobias Wolffe
A Man Like Him by Yiyun Li
A Perfect Day for Bananafish by JD Salinger

short verses call me out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
winged friends
hiding-
pollution rolling in?

http://haikuhabits.com/2009/01/26/fewer-birds-haiku-poems-examples-012609/

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
mussel shells
stay buried
seagulls encircle

http://haikuhabits.com/2009/01/25/mussel-shells-bay-haiku-poem-example-012509/

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

dusty haze-
friends from past
bring light

http://haikuhabits.com/2009/01/24/swimming-dust-sunlight-haiku-poem-example-012409/

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

ruthless caress,
ragged breath-
frozen silence

http://jamesalockhart.blogspot.com/2009/01/recollecting.html

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

lasting forever
this caressing
celestial affair

http://pursuanceoftruth.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-love-affair.html