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.