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.