tears trickle slowly

tears trickle slowly
down the cheeks
when I raise my fingers
to wipe those away
I find not a single drop

clogging the throat
all the more potent
for being unshed

least they could do
to fall in torrents
cleansing the debris
washing away
my inner torment







Photo: Rick Mobbs

long and short of it

Do you ever feel the need to jump start your writing? What drains the energy from your “writing mind”? What do you do when your creative battery dies?


Firstly, a personal bit about me. It has been sometime I have talked about myself here. I have not even visited my dear blogger friends. Most of you have not let that deter you and visit me regularly. I must thank you for sticking to me. There has been a lot of changes in the past three months. As you know I changed my residence from one part of the Delhi to another. And last week I got transferred to a school near my new home. Although I had applied for it, somehow I feel saddened. I had been there in my old school for 11 years. A long time. I made lasting friendships with a few. And I loved each corner. Not to forget my students. I am getting withdrawal symptoms. I know I will adjust. I will like it just as much. Changes are always for the better. But...

So what is new? I am still the same old Gautami waiting to be renewed...Yes, you heard that right...renewed. Inevitable I think of that word, when there are so much of rains here. Rains renew the earth, embracing it. So what am I waiting for? Hell, I don't need to tell you about my personal life more than I have. Let me remain the elusive woman you have always known me as.

Coming back to the question on top, when I am stressed out in all fronts, like I am now, , my writing energy becomes low. I can't find any kind of order anywhere. My mind feels pulled into all directions. How do I deal with it? I sleep it off. Yes. Reading does not help that unrest state of being. I find sleep is the best antidote. It refreshes me. Although sometimes it might take a bit longer. It might appear inappropriate for some. However, that is my only shortcut from stress and into more writing. Does it make sense?!

piece of charcoal split into splinters

nucleus stared me in the eyes
almost imploding on my face
I sat up with a start
turned left, instinctively

piece of charcoal split into splinters
burning ones did cartwheels
bellowing curtains caught fire

when lights came back
I had been sketched into the walls
permanently etched there
my nudity staring at you obscenely

"don't you think death becomes me?"


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

I needed to get back to this kind of dark poetry. This what I feel comfortable to write. I think I will give love poetry a rest for sometime to come. And posting without editing works best for me.

in a place that only sort of exists

in the silence in my room
the methodical deliberation of fingers
on keyboard,
compile the tacit exchange between you and me,
soundlessly beating across a net of stars and dreams,
meeting you in my half-comatose slumber
in a place that only sort of exists.
I glimpse through the window,
not your countenance,
but the words I would verbalize
if you were truly here.

mere text only simplifies the emotion
complicating mood making me speechless.
no matter how infuriated,
sound of my fingers on the keys
try to convey everything,
and hide it too, all at the same time.
the jumbled words dance around
and try to reach you and touch your soul
across this vast electronic chasm

"yet why do I feel sadness seep through me?"

defining boundaries

Photo Credits: Rick Mobbs











space
aura surrounding me
unseen but built like a wall
intangibility of it pervades you too
you can break bricks
however
how does one demolish something
which is invisible
you can't define the boundaries
yet one can let the other break it
allowing to enter it with own free will

"can any one predict where
chance might lead this encounter?"

What does your editor tell you?

Are you ever assailed with self doubt about your writing ability, or about the reasons for writing at all? Do you “follow yourself around nagging and suggesting and complaining”? What are some of the negative things your Editor tells you? What could your Editor say to be more encouraging? How do you encourage yourself to keep practicing the craft of writing?

Writing for me came by chance. Before May 2005, I never even considered it. Now I can't seem to stop. Maybe to make up for all those years I did not. Doubts are inevitable. Sometimes I can't write a full piece as I can't find that appropriate word. It gets so frustrating. Then I start thinking, is it worth it? Why do I have to be a perfectionist? When something does not come up the way I wish for it, I do keep turning it inside my head. I cannot rest until I get it right. Sometimes I don't. The first villanelle I wrote took me more than a year to finish. However, after I completed it, I wrote many more.

Every writer will understand that mind block. Words refuse to pour forth without rhyme or reason. My editor stops me from using long words. It is indifferent to all kinds of cajoling. It is saner than me. It keeps me in order.

For perfect writing, one need only practice. When we see our words formed perfectly into some sort of order, the pleasure we get is not something that can be described. My advise is keep writing more and more. Only way to fight the writing blues. With that note, I think I will go on to work on my novel. I have only written 6700+ words. That too in November 2007.

Tangled in Wisteria by J. Andrew Lockhart

Today on a Tuesday, I would like to talk about a poet amongst us. Here I write about his book of poetry.


Title: Tangled in Wisteria
Author: J. Andrew Lockhart
ISBN: 978-1-60247-852-7
Publisher: Tate Publishing & Enterprises/2007
Pages: 108

J. Andrew Lockhart is blogger poet. He lives in Van Buren, Arkansas, United States. He writes Haiku, Senryu, Haiga, Haibun and Tanka. He was kind enough to send me his book Tangled in Wisteria, which contains haiku, senryu and tanka. I have been reading him for some time now, on his blog.

Andrew was an attorney when tragedy struck. In 1996 he had an intracerebral hemorragic stroke at the age of 30. He rose out of it all and became a music teacher. In his introduction, he writes that music and writing were sidelined and he went to law school.

He came back to writing. Reading his verses one can observe the beauty of nature, find greatness in mundane things and see love in a new light. Those short verses of his are loaded with so much meaning. You can see them in simplicity or the complexities....whatever way you choose to. Those contain nuggets about life and much more.

Here I quote a few of his verses:

"looking up
at the oak tree, planted
when i was young-----
there is no need
for a mirror"
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"although you are
so far away from me
i feel your presence
in the cool summer night
as flowers rest"
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"buying a pack
of firerackers
made in china"
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"brick after brick
after brick after brick---
hidden thoughts"
~~~~~~~~~~~~

This book has four parts----spring, summer, autumn and winter. I read it at one go. But I am going to come back again and again. The best part is my mom picked it up and did not put it own until she finished.

Each page contains a haiku or a senryu and a tanka. Those verses touch the soul and illuminate it. I am very glad I read it and also that I read him everyday on his blog. Please do check him out.