Vortex of Pleasure

Posting this too for Sunday Scribblings' Deepest, darkest. This is another version of the same photo, I had put up in the previous post, Stranger in the Mirror. Here I put up smaller version of the picture for easy recall.

Vortex of Pleasure

in the deep recesses
of my psyche-
my ecstasy is
bursting forth;
dispelling darkness,
welcoming light.

with an inner smile;
hiding the joy
for the time being’
I relish bliss
selfishly,
averse to share

as of now………

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Another take on Deepest, darkest on Sunday Scribblings..

Stranger in the Mirror-----Sunday Scribblings

Posting this for Sunday Scribblings prompt Deepest, darkest. I had some kind of verses formed in my mind looking at this picture on google images. Infact I wrote two entirely different versions. Those suit rather well for the topic. One I post today, other I might post on Sunday. Though I saved the picture, I forgot the source.

Photo Source: Internet

Stranger in the Mirror

deepest
darkest secrets
unknown even to her;
dwells in her mind
scaring her.

this side of herself,
she was unaware.
at times,
her inner demons
slaying her.

smiling under
this scary mask;
a total stranger
stares back from
the mirror.

reluctant to
reveal the
pain within;
she holds on
head held high.

accepting herself
the way she is;
with blemishes,
imperfections
will she find peace?
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Look out more darkest deepest secrets...

Meditating for being one with you-----Poetry Thursday

As for last this time too it was on ecphrasis poetry but in a different way, that is, to try stepping inside a work of art and writing from that perspective as mentioned here. I had done that way in my last post Soul. So here I take the slant in a different way. I have always liked Salvador Dali. Hence I take the following painting and write this. The painting has other interpretations which can be read here. I did not want to elaborate on that. Hence I take it differently. This is not quite poetry but a conversation between two lovers who are in commune with each other. Who is saying all this to whom can be interpreted either way.

Meditation on the Harp by Salvador Dali

(1932-34 67 x 47 cm)

Meditating for being one with you

You have given me all of you,
not keeping anything for yourself.
Trusting me enough to bare it all.
Your vulnerability was always
known to me somehow,
even without your saying so.
You have done much more.

You have opened yourself to me,
a very big responsibility
to care for, to nurture.
I am not one to let you down,
I will retain this part of you safe
within me. The same way
I expect you to keep me
safe within you.

You somehow complete me;
fulfilling that part, the vacuum
which I wasn’t aware, existed.
I was in a slumber,
you woke me up
crashing my defenses with your love.
With you I can be me-
nothing else matters anymore.

The great master
painted us the way we are
in the recesses of our minds;
the harp playing for us
for eternity….

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Read more images poetry here .

Black Vitality

smooth black surface
darker than night,
blankness for it
can only be a slight.

comes to life
when words form,
pictures stare,
curves are drawn.

yet the darkness
has soul- never sold.
as can only happen with
blackest of blackboards.
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Another attempt to write on inanimate objects, mostly on classroom materials. One of my friends has asked me to name those as stationery series. I will if I have enough poems.

Cook up a tale.....Sunday Scribblings

This week, Sunday Scribblings wants us to scribble about kitchens. The best place in this world... Here goes:

Cook up a tale

What does one think of when kitchen is mentioned? For most of us, it is food. Some of us can even smell food. It can be any kind of food. Kitchen reminds us of shared love, laughter, fighting with siblings for bigger shares and just the feeling of being with each other. Our basic need is food and it gets fulfilled here.

From time immemorial, the kitchen has been the domain of woman. Only in this place, they come out on their own. Most females do not like to share this space with any other person. Here in the kitchen, women give in to their nurturing instincts for caring. They do it by providing the best of food to all those they love and care for. Their family, their friends. The food prepared by so much love, can only taste good. They give in to their creative instincts of preparing something new.

In the olden days the phrase “home and hearth” started with the kitchen. Only in the kitchen, the worries of the days vanished and the whole family got together to enjoy a hot meal, talking, bonding and enjoying the food. They seldom picked on food. Warm wholesome healthy food was always available and always welcome by everyone.

To answer it truthfully, nowadays how many of us sit down and have a meal, relaxing? We are always in too much of a hurry. Sometimes we just gobble it down, standing right inside the kitchen, not even tasting it. We make ourselves busy for nothing and do not even enjoy that one thing which sustains us throughout the day.

Our kitchens have become very modern, come with best of gadgets…but lost their souls. We use packaged food, warm it and think of it as a good meal. Our kitchens are no longer the same place which bonded us with each other. Holidays come, our moms made sure the cookie jars were filled with homemade goodies made with love. Now we just buy it off the self. Does it taste just as good?

Even though we have become so busy and do not spend as much time as our mothers did in the kitchen, it is still the life force of any home. The heart of any house. The place which unites a family. A place for bonding. A place for shared love, laughter and dreams.
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Click for more kitchen tales...

Soul--------Ecphrasis------Poetry Thursday

This time in poetry thursday, we have to write something inspired by images. It is known as ecphrasis. I have done this before but I did not want to post one from my archives. I had been thinking on which image to write about and stumbled upon an image by jac. This image affected me no end and words simply poured out in my mind. I asked him and he was kind enough to let me use this image.

Photo Credit---Jac

I titled it SOUL. As I found out that soul means "A sense of ethnic pride among Black people and especially African Americans, expressed in areas such as language, social customs, religion, and music" from answer.com. It goes well with the picture.

SOUL

Why do you look away from my stare?
do you unearth questions that scare
you/me? If they do I am not aware

why. That boy is all I have got now,
for loss of other, to God’s will I bowed
not knowing answers to why/what/how.

Much I have been through- strife, war,
maiming of mind, body, soul; hunger
too, unaware where one started, other

ended. With my misery, wretchedness
I live in my drab world where darkness
prevails. For power, persists lawlessness;

my lone motivation is my child-
I’ll ensure he is healthy, not reviled
as was done to me in this wild

jungle of humanity. Each of those years
I lost a kid, now I tread slow with fear;
nothing to save, leading a life of austere.

His future is in my hands, I can’t shirk that
I would go great lengths, no matter what.
Too long I accepted anything like a doormat.

Our world has no gray shades, it is either white,
black and bleak. Various colours- so very bright
you see is only in my shawl which I wrap tight

around me to save me from further disgrace
where you can look & write on my visage.

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This is the longest poem I have ever written. It is as raw it can be, not properly edited as of now. I do not know if I will get around editing it.

Click image inspired.

cms & inches

grooved chest-
great looks;
smooth features,
marked surface-
straight lines;
a rule-
goes into
great lengths!




picture source: internet





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After structured poetry, it is good to come back to short, brief free verses. Mundane stuff really.