Watching Worlds Collide

We, the next generation
Stand forth
With pride.

This is a proclamation,
One
Unlike any other kind.

For those who think,
Will never sink.
But will always,
Cross unto the other side.

We, the young ones
With music
In our hearts.

Will watch
The worlds collide.
For those who feel,
Are torches burning bright
The Others
Under a bushel hide.

The Circles

In this Circle
And this circle alone
Does my strength lie
Until the leaves fall
And rocks tremble
And turn to dust.

From this Circle
And this circle alone
Will power overflow
That which overcomes all
And the rumbling of the storm.


This Circle of kindness
And this Circle of patience
Meld together
Like the rising of a new sun
And from its rays
Kisses each day
With this Circle of love.

When these Circles
Align
And spills into the other
These Circles combine
And these Circles find
They bring you back to One.
One wreath of Understanding.

A Good Scoff

Crumble
Bumble
Mumble
Fumble
These are the things a lady must Do...Do.

Cry
Sigh
Fire Alight
These are things the boys mustn't say No To.

Whoopity-dee!
Quipity-da!
The alarm goes off
Guess dreams will just be stuff for a good scoff.

The Box

Step out
Look around
Breathe in
Or blow out.

Stretch back
Relax
Eyes shut
Ears open.

Feet spinning
Lights dimming
Warmth fading
The chill overtaking.

Earth giving way
To a gentle sway
Knees crumble and shatter
As a moment matters.

An abyss below
The heavens above
Sides no more
The top and the bottom
Close in.

The breath and the arch
The spirit and the match
Decide for each one
The shape of their Box.

Caterpillars and Butterflies

Caterpillars and Butterflies
Lambs and Sheep
Tadpoles and Frogs
Fawn and Deer
They all change so fast
Just the way
You Crazy Kids Do!

Wishes, whispers and someOne

A tap on my shoulder
A presence passes by
My head turns
Only to catch a glance.

A raindrop on my nose
A sunbeam on my lips
Together they form
Wishes and bliss.

A whisper in the dark
A thistle with a mark
Causes a storm
In a space so warm.

A quiet impatience
Fills this bubble.

And
As this world collides
These emotions churn
Their hearts survive
Only because
There is someOne above.

Soul and Heart

Will you be my heart?
Will you be my soul?
Will you be all that's falling apart?
Or will you burn it all in the stove?

Will the rain wash this feeling away?
Will the tears prove that I have paid?
Will the oceans sweep me away?
Or will I seethe until all is arrayed?

Soul, oh Soul, will you stay?
Will you rest until it is day?
Will you chase the fireflies?
Or will you play with this mountain of lies?

Heart, oh Heart, will you remain?
Will you lay unbroken in pain?
Will you touch the lion's mane?
Or will you claim that it's all insane?

God Has Healed

Each Summer Night
Passes to bring Rainy Cheer,
Yet the one thing that rings true
Is my heart's one belief
"God has Healed".

Trials come
Worry prevails
Yet to my lips remain
"God has Healed".

Sanity questioned
Love undeterred
Yet Spirit secure
My words melt to say
"Rafael".

Ordinary Days, Extraordinary Ways

On an Ordinary Day

I don't see the sky

The blue and the grey

Don't even step in time.

I walk all day

With my eyes wide shut.

And when it finally rains,

I'm clearly stuck in a rut.

The moon hidden on a plane,

None can explain

The crickets exclaim,

"Hop to the tick,

Or stuck you'll be in slick!"

That's just an Ordinary Day.

The air churns around

Claiming each sound,

But hear my voice

Ring out loud.

"I'm no Ordinary Me

Just an Extraordinary She."

So each Ordinary Day,

Changes in Extraordinary Ways.

The Growing Wall

It was a blisteringly warm Monday morning. India's 64th Independence Day, nevertheless. And I'd found my home facing the back compound wall on which I'd been growing my wall mural but had touched for 5 months. My brother wanted the table blue but Mom didn't know that she could use the acrylic paint I had since Christmas to paint on wood. Plus, he'd already finished varnishing it maroon. So, I picked up the blue painted and painted the shelf instead. Its a startlingly bright blue, but I love the warmth it exudes. I couldn't help myself, but as soon as i'd finished the shelf, i made a bee-line for the back wall. The can of blue acrylic paint in hand, and a rather large brush. The first part of the mission was cover up from the first attempt. The first time i started painting the back wall, I had really tiny brushes so by the time I had finished the centre piece, I was tired but didn't want to stare a copious amounts of blank peach stone walls. So blotched it with my infamous handprinting technique. It was all going to change in a few minutes. And, It did! The texture of the stone wall allowed me to create a something that on parchment would take me forever to master. I could feel the stone speaking to me. I could feel their sighs of relief that they were not just beige or peach but they were going to be worth much more when I was done for the day. The blue really popped in the sunlight and the purplish brown held the pulse together. I could take my own roots finding its ground. I could feel myself reach out to the Earth and be one with Her even if it was just for a lil bit.

Wide Eye Rent

Spaces emerge

Vision blurs

Hands converge

Hearings a purr.

Snap, Snap

Clap, Clap

Splash, Splash

That's the trick,

Yet not the pick. 

The Sandman came and went,

Said I didn't pay the bill he sent,

So I lay in bed,

Asleep you must stay, he said

Until you pay up the wide eye rent.

Whispers at Dawn

Whistle
Whisper
Speak
Conversations in discrete
In the morning air,
The trees do seize.

Warming
Wishing
Embracing
The dawn's sun kissed skies bring
In to each voyager's heart
A tingling.

The wild undergrowth giggles,
The canopies sway,
A natural dance they create
In a waking mind's estate.

(Written on 15 July, 2011 on a train to Bangalore.)

The Best Days

The best days
Come all at once.
Wiggle your toes
They'll come alive.
Run and do not hide
All that is inside.
Cry, only in joy
Or the excess of pain.
Or maybe stay,
Just stay in my lane.
Run, run, run
Only to say,
Welcome to my world, hun.
Oh! the tropic thunder
Will not change,
This I know,
I know with age.

(written on July 3, 2011)
(second edit - July 18, 2011)

Windows

Wandering through
Windows of
Wonder.

Passing through
Arches of
Eternal Mystery.

Climbing up
Ladders of
Perspective.

All this movement
Is for more,
Not just a moment.

They appear
One by one.
These gems,
Each with its own quality,
Strung together
With bands of sincerity.

Rumours and Nothing

Patterns emerge
As people unfurl
Whispers that creep,
They Rumours will reap.

Truth be told
Their Instincts echo
Yet are waylaid
And into Nothing they go.

Divine

She
The one
In my dreams
Divine
Radiant

With a mane of sunbeams,
Eyes of starlight,
The voice of a soothsayer
Invokes all that is Me,
Provokes all that should be.

She
A spirit
Unbridled
Runs free.

Shred

Rip
Shred
Move
Shove
Dodge
Bang
Smack
Scream
Throw
Break
One word is all it takes.

Beat
Hum
Buzz
Tap
Twist
Turn
Twirl
Jump
Curl
Stretch
Ache
To make it all go away.

One

Aurore
The One Dawn
To a thousand sunsets.

The waters hasten
To the One Sea
From a thousand rivulets.

Yet One Breathe
Resounds
All around
When all is still,
All is calm
And you hold out
Your arms.

The Evening Sky...

That Incredible
Incredulous Light
Flickered
In the evening sky
Like flames
Licking dry wood.

The Monstrous
Massive Rumbles
Echoed
In the evening sky
Like rocks
Rolling yet gathering no moss.

The Immense
Luminescent Beacon
Hidden
In the evening sky
Like a child
Playing peek-a-boo.

The Glorious
Green Turf
Soaked
Under the evening sky
Like an old soul
Renewing his spirit.

Luminescence

All-In

The thoughts build up inside

From a long, long time ago,

The pain from within

Like dolls in a row.

Never did I dream,

These words I would hear,

"Here's my shoulder, lean."

The Angel unexpected,

Risen from the child held in.

I hear myself now,

Above the din,

"To be all that we are,

Gamble! All in."

Magicks!

What do you do when you have so many dimensions as a person? And each is not concrete like those of a cube? But maybe I could associate it better to that of a pyramid? I hear voices in my head go "Whoosh, whoosh..." (the sound of water being beckoned to move ideas or wash over old ones or even dilute or emulsify all kinds of ideas). There is Magic, Magick or Magik at work. (In a hushed tone, "Its the sparks that fly, when we try and retry.")

My Essence

- March 2, 2011

High

Low

Tone

I hear it all 

Like a ballerina and her pirouettes

In perfect rhythm.

Soprano

Alto

Tenor

Bass

I hear it all 

Like a molten chocolate lava cake,

In perfect texture.

Melody

Harmony

Symphony

I hear it all

From the cask of the aging wine 

With its own alluring personality.

Melt 

Blend

Run

Rift

I hear it all

All that inspires and all that propels me

To visualize the colours in the wind.

Harmonize

Synchronize

I hear it all

And bare it all.

My Essence.

Churn...Churn... Churn

Questions or Questioning is part of any person's reflection. You stand in front of the mirror and ask sometimes the most trivial questions like "Why is there so much acne on my face?" or maybe something deep like "Am I the same person I was when I was ?" The question I ask myself more than once in any given time frame is "Am I Just Ordinary?" because sometimes the things that I do or people I meet or situations I am in or choices I have to make me see things as if they were normal or sometimes they're so extraordinarily hard that I want to feel regular. But what is ordinary or normal or regular. They're all marginalized based on a set of expectations and more and more I realize, I have no need to conform to them unless... I choose to. But questioning, tool, process, whatever one may want to call it is inevitable, rational and necessary. But on the other side there's still this incredible surge of powerful sensations that are in flux within me and these poems depict that.

Bitter-Sweet Melody
-February 17, 2011

Her tears flow quietly,

She knows not how 

Things will unfold.

This fear that grips her

When her intuition knows best

Makes her heart beat outside her chest.

She lifts her eyes

Up unto the heavens.

Her help does come from Above

The dark clouds part 

Even at night

Letting through light.

The peace slowly fills her

She leans against her Rock.

The Earth, The Wind, The Water

The Fire and The Spirit

Engulf her aura,

Giving her wings shining abright.

Soon her soul soars,

Higher than the highest moutain.

Her feet takes root

Deeper than the deepest gorge.

Her inner voice set free,

Sings always a bitter-sweet melody.

Just Ordinary?
- February 27, 2011

Stopped dead in her tracks;

The thoughts hit her like an axe

"Am I Just Ordinary?

Or quite the contrary?"

"But... but...?

These flashes in my mind,

Expressed in colour

Isn't it what I find,

Deep inside?"

Days of clarity,

Nights with fog,

Sweet slumber 

Amidst the autum mist;

All hidden within her tiny fist.

Like the two sides of a coin 

It seems 

The double edge of a sword

Gleams, 

That which makes her more than 

Just Ordinary.

Is it enough?

For her to know,

That even in the calmest of calm

She is still the pebble,

Smooth, rough, transparent and opaque

All at once, 

Rippling a storm on the placid lake.

Awakened!

From the folds of her soul,

The yearning for that which

Departs from the old.

New Patterns to hold,

All that is far from Just Ordinary.

Churning Buttery Thoughts

Reflection comes naturally now. Thoughts that intrigue me. Emotions that stir my heart and mind. Feels like an Amber Spyglass or Invisible Ink. Everything means more than one or even many things that mean just one thing. Contraction or expansion, proximity churns all those little things in my mind. It reminds me of when you put a drop of ink on tissue paper and it sploges out or rechargeable batteries which fade out and then back at full strength again. Language is just a medium just like paint or crayons or ingredients. The best part is I get to mould it the way I want. Posting my bloggy entry a bit tardy allows me to do some of that reflection. and the four poems that follow shows a different side of me but also maybe seen or understood differently by different people.

On February 14, 2011, I was sitting at a coffeeshop in Trivandrum by myself, killing a lot of time, trying desperately to read a french book and texting incessantly. But my thoughts overtook both my activities and left me in a haze of words and a rather funny looking drawing. :)

If...I would...

If time stopped

Never to move again

I would close my eyes and dream

Until I was walking on water.

If the wind

Never blew a breeze again

I would turn into a mammoth

And flap my giant ears.

If memories fell through

A mind's cracks

I would cheer a heart with deed

Until they were restored.

If the Sun was to

Never shine again

I would cast a spell on the Moon

And chant it in Ancient Rune.

If a child was determined

To never smile again

I would play the same song over and over

Until it became his cheerful refrain.

The littlest littles...

Inspiration to me can be anything from a speck of dust to a big ole matriarch elephant. Two such instances for me to blend words together was a lost firefly who graced my pillow with its presence in the middle of the night and the first summer's rain that takes my breathe away every time. The way the scent shifts from dry to earthy awakens every atom and makes them jiggle ever so quickly. Its always interesting to try and see the world through the eyes of another. Empathy allows you to feel something that does not come naturally to see, hear, touch and taste as if the whole experience was in a different realm altogether.

The Firefly

- March 13, 2011

Oh! this feeling deep inside

To be carried to the otherside

In life and in dream 

Extensions

The two may become one to me.

My vision blurrs 

Enveloped in hurried hues.

The velvet shades rushing through

Creating something that allures.

The soul inspiration

An unexpected vision

Bestowed with clarity

By a gentle Firefly.

Fingers itched for days 

As the tints and shades

Stewed in the inner depths

Of my mind's eye.

The cloche uncovered 

Only to permit 

A delicate, rich red hue

Tangled on a white platter.

A hint of blue

Was the glue

Transcending night and day.

That twinkling yellow-green tail-light

Tenderly guides me through

The chants of an old sage

And an open plain

Welcoming the new day at dawn's twilight.

The First Summer's Rain

--15 March, 2011

Serenity

Does it truly exist?

Scientists say

Atoms never stop jiggling

Just as the world

Never stops spinning.

But you and I 

What do we see?

Chaos and destruction

Essence

Or enchanted emotion?

Water

Does it stand still?

I see it dance 

To the rhythm of rock hands

I hear it sing

The heavenly hymns. 

The spindle turns

The child within yearns

Never to stand still

Never to be run of the mill. 

The heavens open

The curious eyes strike gold

They see it

The quick ears perk up

They hear it...

The first summer's rain

Water and Serenity 

In the same bylane.

Spinning Around in my Head...

Sometimes time passes by before you can pick up the pen and write something meaningful or not or even just blog in this case. I have been painting and writing poetry, all of which will go up in a few minutes, but, the point I'm trying to make is its ok to be distant and reflective and disengaging sometimes. You always know that your heart will bring you back to where you need to be. My last few paintings have been about serenity and childlikeness yet exploratory. My poetry from the depths of my mind and heart, inspired by the littlest things. It really is interesting how I have to only paint or I have to only write poetry but having two outlets or more allows me to shape who I am from the inside out.

Flaming Glass Bead

When Worlds Collide...

On the Wings of the Phoenix 

Spinning in circles
The squares lose their corners,
The triangles find strength,
The hexagons bond,
And builds a Helix.
The dots joined together
By lines and arcs,
To continue this long
Thread of Life.

Touch of Velvet

I thought about this a lot and I figured this poem would bring out whats deep inside both these paintings. They are to me reflections of each other in two different lights. One speaks to me about how deep a person can be and how that one person needs to have inevitable change and pull oneself up from the ashes and the other is the glue that holds one together. A symbol to me of how everything in life has two sides disregarding how sharp, deep, wide, gentle, curved, blurred or clear things get. 

Meet Me Halfway...

Morning Mist rolled in,

When the Sunlight touches the Darkness

With her came eerie Morning Whisper.

"Moonlight, careful now, 

Sunny Summer's almost near.

Use your gentle rays to inspire each heart.

Every minute you spend in the sky 

Is special.",

They sang in chorus.

Like a new born babe,

I shrugged my round shoulders 

And emoted my bewilderment.

Soleil Brille came up beside me slowly.

Like a kind papa bear

And reached out his luminescent fingers.

I'd come to know and love Papa Brille

Every crescent moon,

Though I remember each rebirth

His touch was warm, new and radiant,

Just as the marvel in my baby eyes remained the same.

Cindy Starr and Corey Comet came storming in,

Yelling out loud, 

As loud as the MilkyWay would endure,

Endure their starry melodrama.

But she, Mama MilkyWay, always always,

Scooped us up in her cushioned arms.

Safe is what we felt 

And safe is what we disseminate.

Time passes by,

Watery Earth sees me as a whole,

I reflect my lit up eyes at dawn

And hope that I have fulfilled

The Song of the Morning Twins.

Where the Wind Blows...

Its been a strange few weeks. Between the amount of French I'm cramming into some poor lil munchkins heads and like wise the amount that is being crammed in my head, I was beginning to think all the colours floating in my head were gonna be stuck there.And like the colours in my head I felt stuck too trying to decide on different things.

Smudged Direction

Storms rage
Far beyond any man's grasp
Will it flatten your house?
Or will it just make you gasp?

Have you your path found?
Or is the fire burning inside you
Almost put out?
What comes next maybe is,
Is what you doubt.

Golden is the sunlight that streams in
Or do you choose
The moonlight that will soon
Kiss the darkened sky?



A little voice emanates
From the body before ye
Silken as honey
As kind as the breeze
That touched your toes.

The two halves
Glued as one
Yet reaching for the stars,
Each in its own way finding
Solace, rhythm, rhyme and reason.

The Beach and The Bride...

Sea Shells and Birds

So, my inner voice wouldn't be quiet anymore and I had to express myself. A coupla weeks ago, I went to the beach with dear friends. Finally! my craving to be with my peacekeepers was to be satisfied. The Sun, the Sand, the Water and that intoxicating Scent of the ocean were all together. I played in the water for a while getting stung by the salt water in my eyes and being pelted with sand balls by a little Munchkin. Dry off a little bit and jump right back in. And then I went for a walk, calmed by the scented breeze and the water at my feet. The sight of sea snails and lil crabs burying themselves deep in the sand waiting for another wave to wash them out to sea. But the one thing that inspired me the most were the mussel shells. They came in various colours and sizes and textures and this incredible sensation that something lived in that empty shell and even what's left behind is so stunningly beautiful!

But there was a person  who also inspired the colour and the texture and the emotion behind this painting. She is a very special friend of mine who always reminded me that even if we don't talk, each of us have that special little place in our hearts for each other. She found another piece to her life's puzzle and  in that  beautiful white gown amongst all that purple and gold. And now her little mussel shell's gonna explode into something special and beautiful!

Everytime I paint, I leave a little piece of me in each of them. It feels like fairy dust, and  everytime I see them, I know that I have what it takes to bring out the best in me. 

Coming together of Hearts and Minds!

Procrastination is the key word of my Christmas holiday. I had been planning it for over a month, without even know what medium would work out just right. But its taught me a lot. Not just where to find what and get new ideas to cut expenditure on materials but also that hearts and minds can come together without a speech or without a briefing. And even if people try to interfere, hearts that are held together bring out the best in each other. The wall mural that I planned to do with my 10 cousins was one that was to develop instantaneously. It was to be a Christmas present to our Grandad for all that he does for us. Daniella and Mini tried their hardest convince Appicha to paint the house before Christmas Day without telling him what we were scheming. It didn't work! But we told him were were going to do it anyway. ^.^ Christmas day was awesome, Mini and Daniella had planned all kinds of fun stuff and gifts on behalf of our Appicha and from them too. The wall mirrored a true representation of who we are as a family and who we are as individuals and what we desire for the family. Everybody from the eldest, Femi right down to the youngest angel, Reuel had their mark of what they could channel through whether it was using our hands or using brushes dipped in acrylic paints or trying to cover up one blob on the wall with another and eventually trying to make the blob look insanely bright and cheery. It was a day when people tested my patience and I did give in, but a wise lil angel told me that no matter what the patience tester said it was my idea that had all of us screaming and giggling and feeling utterly clueless about what to paint. And the rest is history as a day that will never be forgotten - 25 December, 2010- The Day of Jigsawed Hearts and Minds.