It started with a trip to the garden city,
And a solemn resolve to never look back;
A glimpse of a world without me, which it almost was,
And narcissistic praise heaped upon literary brethren.
A cinquain to glorify carnal pleasure,
A time poem to chronicle a walk and beyond.
A testament to being different, always,
and an old friend, fondly remembered.
The crowning glory of it all, my own sonnet,
and a four line tribute to two strong women;
This wall brought Frost and Facebook together,
I also unveiled my grand scheme to the world.
Love bites got their spot in the sunlight,
And a plea went the way of love yet to be found,
A monstrous sestina that didn't make much sense,
And I had to care, this one brought an award.
A tribute to the indefatigable Nihonese spirit,
And my first tryst with comic poetry, with a fart;
My furry feline's purring found mention,
And a racy fling titillated before disappearing forever.
An honest and fair prayer, a shadorma this time,
And a fall, that was not so mighty, after all,
The story of a child sex worker thanks to the great O,
And to lead or to follow, that was the question.
A profound marital realization, a little too late,
And I got better at comic sense, went from fart too poop.
What a terrible thing to write, about a world sans words;
And a tale of how I dissolve in a special someone's warm embrace.
And a teaser of what is to come, after I leave here.
Thirty days of poeming got me here.
YES. I AM FINALLY DONE. 15 minutes are left for midnight to strike on April the 30th and for NaPoWriMo to draw to a close. This is my 30th and final poem for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt is ironically the very first prompt that kick-started this challenge - "A what got you here poem". I saved it for last, for I wanted a prompt that would let me sum up 30 days worth of poeming.
Thanks to Dheepikaa without whom this wouldn't have happened. Thanks to Robert Lee Brewer, whose 30 incredible prompts kept me challenged and inspired. Thanks to Jingle and Thursday Poets Rally for the support and recognition. And thanks to every single person, known and unknown, who had something nice to say about my poems.
Jya Mata!
Saturday, April 30, 2011
After the 30th one is done.
I'll go back to a 9-5 job,
slightly more interesting,
than the ones before.
I'll spend some time each day,
struggling with a script,
borrowed from the Chinese.
It is also a solemn resolve,
to hold tight to each oxygen mask,
from books to random walks.
And I leave with new-found confidence,
that my poetry has its audience,
and so, this is no farewell, just another beginning.
This is poem 29 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "After leaving here poem".
slightly more interesting,
than the ones before.
I'll spend some time each day,
struggling with a script,
borrowed from the Chinese.
It is also a solemn resolve,
to hold tight to each oxygen mask,
from books to random walks.
And I leave with new-found confidence,
that my poetry has its audience,
and so, this is no farewell, just another beginning.
This is poem 29 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "After leaving here poem".
In the warmth of your embrace
I forget to be cynical and spiteful;
I remember to smile, and take a deep breath.
I let the big picture wait for a while;
And count the beats of your heart.
I have no time for my billion complaints,
for just this while, am glad to be alive.
I feel no need to close my eyes,
Reality is better than any dream.
This is poem 28 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "In the (blank) of (blank) poem".
I remember to smile, and take a deep breath.
I let the big picture wait for a while;
And count the beats of your heart.
I have no time for my billion complaints,
for just this while, am glad to be alive.
I feel no need to close my eyes,
Reality is better than any dream.
This is poem 28 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "In the (blank) of (blank) poem".
A world without words
There would be no books,
no literary yarns to spin.
No tool to express love,
or spit out hate and loathing.
A mouth's function will be limited,
to being an inlet for consumption,
and an outlet for rejection, and
passion's only outlet, endless French kissing.
We writers would beg on streets,
with defunct shrunken right brains,
Unless we are the first ever,
to master wordless communication!
There would be no scripts to master,
no sounds to wrap your tongue around,
No songs, just sounds to belt out aloud,
and movies would never be talkies.
At times it's better to keep your mouth shut,
but then there are just too many other times,
when words make the world go around,
and words are all we have, sometimes.
This is poem 27 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "A world without something else poem".
no literary yarns to spin.
No tool to express love,
or spit out hate and loathing.
A mouth's function will be limited,
to being an inlet for consumption,
and an outlet for rejection, and
passion's only outlet, endless French kissing.
We writers would beg on streets,
with defunct shrunken right brains,
Unless we are the first ever,
to master wordless communication!
There would be no scripts to master,
no sounds to wrap your tongue around,
No songs, just sounds to belt out aloud,
and movies would never be talkies.
At times it's better to keep your mouth shut,
but then there are just too many other times,
when words make the world go around,
and words are all we have, sometimes.
This is poem 27 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "A world without something else poem".
Friday, April 29, 2011
An ode to poop.
O you stinky devil,
that dwells in dark passages,
and rides down lubed tubes,
to a hol'e'y release.
O you being of many a form,
slithering down, a slippery mass,
or a sudden shower of muddy goo,
with bursts of wind in tow.
O you cheeky brownie,
forgot to set your alarm?
The poor thing popped a pill,
and is yet to hear that plop.
O be he a king or a pauper,
if nature doesn't come calling,
or calls much too often,
faecal peace is not to be his.
O as I relax my anal muscles,
and grant thee your freedom,
I can't help being grateful,
for your smooth passage yonder.
This is poem 26 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "An ode poem".
that dwells in dark passages,
and rides down lubed tubes,
to a hol'e'y release.
O you being of many a form,
slithering down, a slippery mass,
or a sudden shower of muddy goo,
with bursts of wind in tow.
O you cheeky brownie,
forgot to set your alarm?
The poor thing popped a pill,
and is yet to hear that plop.
O be he a king or a pauper,
if nature doesn't come calling,
or calls much too often,
faecal peace is not to be his.
O as I relax my anal muscles,
and grant thee your freedom,
I can't help being grateful,
for your smooth passage yonder.
This is poem 26 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "An ode poem".
From the couch.
When she spends half your month's earnings
on that glittering red dress, that's
nothing like what her sisters will wear,
or her friends will wear, a woman's got
am image to keep, you see, and her hair's
instantly long, "extensions, honey!", and curled,
and breakfast is a bowl of fruit and lunch's
a granola bar, for three whole weeks, don't even
say the word dinner, and she's got new red pumps,
too, and a rhinestone bag to match her earrings,
and she wakes up at four, waxes her legs, and her
hands too, and its noon before she puts on that dress,
and pulls her shoes on, and you drive her along,
and you are at the venue, she takes one last look
in the mirror, to adjust that lipstick,and turns
to look at you and asks, "Do I look fat in this dress,
baby?", you shouldn't have said, "Not really!".
This is poem 25 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Second thoughts poem". The form is a Narrative poem.
on that glittering red dress, that's
nothing like what her sisters will wear,
or her friends will wear, a woman's got
am image to keep, you see, and her hair's
instantly long, "extensions, honey!", and curled,
and breakfast is a bowl of fruit and lunch's
a granola bar, for three whole weeks, don't even
say the word dinner, and she's got new red pumps,
too, and a rhinestone bag to match her earrings,
and she wakes up at four, waxes her legs, and her
hands too, and its noon before she puts on that dress,
and pulls her shoes on, and you drive her along,
and you are at the venue, she takes one last look
in the mirror, to adjust that lipstick,and turns
to look at you and asks, "Do I look fat in this dress,
baby?", you shouldn't have said, "Not really!".
This is poem 25 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Second thoughts poem". The form is a Narrative poem.
Our Journey
Lead:
When you are weak, and need my hand to hold.
Follow:
When your love knows best, I'll walk along.
Lead:
When the man sleeps, and the child awakens.
Follow:
When I look into those eyes, and know, you know.
Lead:
When they hate, and all you have is rage.
Follow:
When your frail ego, needs that little boost.
Lead:
When in times of strife, I see doubt in those eyes.
Follow:
When you are the teacher, and I, thirsty to learn.
Lead/Follow:
All that matters, is that we walk, hand in hand.
This is poem 24 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Leader/Follower poem". The form is what my dear friend and poetess Dheepikaa has come to call as my trademark form.
When you are weak, and need my hand to hold.
Follow:
When your love knows best, I'll walk along.
Lead:
When the man sleeps, and the child awakens.
Follow:
When I look into those eyes, and know, you know.
Lead:
When they hate, and all you have is rage.
Follow:
When your frail ego, needs that little boost.
Lead:
When in times of strife, I see doubt in those eyes.
Follow:
When you are the teacher, and I, thirsty to learn.
Lead/Follow:
All that matters, is that we walk, hand in hand.
This is poem 24 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Leader/Follower poem". The form is what my dear friend and poetess Dheepikaa has come to call as my trademark form.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
From a little hospital room in Cambodia.
What if:
The night they tied me up and took me away,
had never happened.
What if:
I had never known what it was to bed a man,
before my first period.
What if:
I hadn't been electrocuted every time I said no,
to the in and out game.
What if:
Every man who paid to have me, looked at me as
the child I am.
What if:
I hadn't been stitched up again and again, to be,
a virgin again.
What if:
The blood and unformed flesh didn't ooze out of me;
my aborted offspring.
What if:
I hadn't been mauled, and had my eye torn apart, ceasing to be
a sale-able commodity.
Would I be able to go back and be a child again?
This is poem 23 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "A what if poem".
As I count down to the last few poems in the last few days of NaPoWriMo, inspiration was running low. Oprah came to my rescue, and showed me the story of a little girl in Cambodia, whose story this poem narrates. This was a very difficult poem to write, as I am still trying to digest what I just saw.
The night they tied me up and took me away,
had never happened.
What if:
I had never known what it was to bed a man,
before my first period.
What if:
I hadn't been electrocuted every time I said no,
to the in and out game.
What if:
Every man who paid to have me, looked at me as
the child I am.
What if:
I hadn't been stitched up again and again, to be,
a virgin again.
What if:
The blood and unformed flesh didn't ooze out of me;
my aborted offspring.
What if:
I hadn't been mauled, and had my eye torn apart, ceasing to be
a sale-able commodity.
Would I be able to go back and be a child again?
This is poem 23 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "A what if poem".
As I count down to the last few poems in the last few days of NaPoWriMo, inspiration was running low. Oprah came to my rescue, and showed me the story of a little girl in Cambodia, whose story this poem narrates. This was a very difficult poem to write, as I am still trying to digest what I just saw.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
My Mighty Fall
The ground beneath me shook,
the earth gave way, I slipped,
And started to fall.
It was dark all around
I reached out but found nothing,
I continued to fall.
Is this how it's all to end?
Oh! My airless grave of soil,
Melodramatic overload while falling.
I've been at it for so long,
am I near the molten center?
Scientific thought while falling.
A faint voice from somewhere,
"Oh no not again, you poor thing!"
Was I still falling?
I opened my eyes with a groan,
not on the bed, but on the floor.
I had finished falling.
This is poem 22 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "A falling poem". Form - A modified chant.
the earth gave way, I slipped,
And started to fall.
It was dark all around
I reached out but found nothing,
I continued to fall.
Is this how it's all to end?
Oh! My airless grave of soil,
Melodramatic overload while falling.
I've been at it for so long,
am I near the molten center?
Scientific thought while falling.
A faint voice from somewhere,
"Oh no not again, you poor thing!"
Was I still falling?
I opened my eyes with a groan,
not on the bed, but on the floor.
I had finished falling.
This is poem 22 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "A falling poem". Form - A modified chant.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Award time.
My poem "Couldn't care less" was submitted for Jingle's Thursday Poets Rally Week 42.
Thanks for this award, Jingle!
Recognition -
An artist's drugless high.
I nominate Dheepikaa.
Thanks for this award, Jingle!
Recognition -
An artist's drugless high.
I nominate Dheepikaa.
Please do listen.
If I am
to not have that which
I so want
let me have
a chance at the wisdom of
living without it.
This is poem 21 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Prayer poem". Form - Shadorma.
to not have that which
I so want
let me have
a chance at the wisdom of
living without it.
This is poem 21 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Prayer poem". Form - Shadorma.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Never see you again.
That balmy evening,
felt your eyes on me,
and turned right around,
you didn't flinch.
That inviting smile,
I was in no mood to resist,
I let myself return it,
and walk toward.
Deep, gentle voice,
made shameless love to my ear;
pupils dilated, lips parted,
you read the signs.
A couple of drinks,
your hands found mine,
our bodies moved as one,
an easy romance.
"It's late, gotta go.
Had a great time".
"Did you have a great time,
or are you having one?"
Every single time,
you almost hit the ring.
A few notes well placed,
the stuffed panda was mine.
Gentle black waves,
buried your toes with mine,
The moon showed the way,
your hand held mine.
Your lips met mine,
it was time; we both knew,
this is where we were headed,
when I first turned.
Little beads of sweat,
breathless bodies, glowing faces,
your tender kisses, and my head,
resting on your arm.
The cab drew away,
With your taste still on my lips,
I felt quite certain that I'll
never see you again.
This is poem 20 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Never again poem". This one is inspired by the movie "Remember me" that I watched this evening. No form, no rhyme.. felt good to let the words flow, after a while.
felt your eyes on me,
and turned right around,
you didn't flinch.
That inviting smile,
I was in no mood to resist,
I let myself return it,
and walk toward.
Deep, gentle voice,
made shameless love to my ear;
pupils dilated, lips parted,
you read the signs.
A couple of drinks,
your hands found mine,
our bodies moved as one,
an easy romance.
"It's late, gotta go.
Had a great time".
"Did you have a great time,
or are you having one?"
Every single time,
you almost hit the ring.
A few notes well placed,
the stuffed panda was mine.
Gentle black waves,
buried your toes with mine,
The moon showed the way,
your hand held mine.
Your lips met mine,
it was time; we both knew,
this is where we were headed,
when I first turned.
Little beads of sweat,
breathless bodies, glowing faces,
your tender kisses, and my head,
resting on your arm.
The cab drew away,
With your taste still on my lips,
I felt quite certain that I'll
never see you again.
This is poem 20 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Never again poem". This one is inspired by the movie "Remember me" that I watched this evening. No form, no rhyme.. felt good to let the words flow, after a while.
Bubbles
My child with fur,
demon in disguise.
Love's lingo is a purr;
and a gaze, worldly wise.
This is poem 19 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Only one in the world poem". This one's for my only feline child. Form: Quatrain; Rhyme Scheme: ABAB
demon in disguise.
Love's lingo is a purr;
and a gaze, worldly wise.
This is poem 19 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Only one in the world poem". This one's for my only feline child. Form: Quatrain; Rhyme Scheme: ABAB
Quit farting in bed.
Just so you know, my sweet honey,
It ain't funny.
I know you have to let out that methane,
I can't complain.
But why dost thou always pass at nigh,
I just sigh!
On most occasions there is no noise,
such flatulent poise.
If there is, you mask it with a cough;
I silently laugh.
When I said I prefer a strong scent,
Mint, I meant.
Baby, on nights you have a bean-y meal,
Imagine how I feel.
This is poem 18 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Quit doing what you are doing poem". I am a bit tired of writing emo. Wanted to make the reader laugh. Hope you did. Form: Couplets; Rhyme Scheme: AABBCC
It ain't funny.
I know you have to let out that methane,
I can't complain.
But why dost thou always pass at nigh,
I just sigh!
On most occasions there is no noise,
such flatulent poise.
If there is, you mask it with a cough;
I silently laugh.
When I said I prefer a strong scent,
Mint, I meant.
Baby, on nights you have a bean-y meal,
Imagine how I feel.
This is poem 18 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Quit doing what you are doing poem". I am a bit tired of writing emo. Wanted to make the reader laugh. Hope you did. Form: Couplets; Rhyme Scheme: AABBCC
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Like the Nihonjin.
Let's try to see the kami in everything;
from a resplendent sakura to a lonely ki.
Let's hold on to honor like the samurai,
cultivate the gaman that glues nihon together.
Let's learn grace in the time of terror,
hold minasan's welfare above watashi.
Let's learn to go out of our way to help,
make every gaikokujin feel at home, yokoso!
Let's imbibe the power of hardwork and sheer perfection,
that made possible the jidoshas and the shinkansen.
Let's learn to eat food as nature gives it,
sushi, sashimi, and just a dash of wasabi.
Let's never forget true human grit and strength,
salute the gojunin or so nihonjin that braved Fukushima.
It is with pride that I speak of the nihonjin,
this Indojin is smitten, there will be no sayonara.
This is poem 17 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Like (blank) poem". This one is dedicated to Nihon and its brave people. I couldn't love them more.
Vocabulary Lesson:
Nihon - Japan
Kami - Spiritual essence
Sakura - Cherry blossom
Ki - Tree
Samurai - Japanese warrior
Gaman - Perseverance, Stoicism.
Minasan - Everyone
Watashi - I
Gaikokujin - Foreign national
Yokoso - Welcome!
Jidosha - Automobile
Shinkhansen - Bullet train
Sushi/Sashimi - Dishes made from raw fish
Wasabi - Horse radish
Gojunin - 50 (people)
Nihonjin - Japanese national
Indojin - Indian national
Sayonara - Farewell
from a resplendent sakura to a lonely ki.
Let's hold on to honor like the samurai,
cultivate the gaman that glues nihon together.
Let's learn grace in the time of terror,
hold minasan's welfare above watashi.
Let's learn to go out of our way to help,
make every gaikokujin feel at home, yokoso!
Let's imbibe the power of hardwork and sheer perfection,
that made possible the jidoshas and the shinkansen.
Let's learn to eat food as nature gives it,
sushi, sashimi, and just a dash of wasabi.
Let's never forget true human grit and strength,
salute the gojunin or so nihonjin that braved Fukushima.
It is with pride that I speak of the nihonjin,
this Indojin is smitten, there will be no sayonara.
This is poem 17 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Like (blank) poem". This one is dedicated to Nihon and its brave people. I couldn't love them more.
Vocabulary Lesson:
Nihon - Japan
Kami - Spiritual essence
Sakura - Cherry blossom
Ki - Tree
Samurai - Japanese warrior
Gaman - Perseverance, Stoicism.
Minasan - Everyone
Watashi - I
Gaikokujin - Foreign national
Yokoso - Welcome!
Jidosha - Automobile
Shinkhansen - Bullet train
Sushi/Sashimi - Dishes made from raw fish
Wasabi - Horse radish
Gojunin - 50 (people)
Nihonjin - Japanese national
Indojin - Indian national
Sayonara - Farewell
Couldn't care less
Words
like a cackling of birds
Attention
root of all pretension
Need
will never know heed
Respect
Existence is suspect
Selfish
in measures lavish
End
for you never will mend
Confess
none of my business
This is poem 16 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Ain't none of my business poem". Form: A modified sort of Couplet. Rhyme Scheme: AABBCC....
like a cackling of birds
Attention
root of all pretension
Need
will never know heed
Respect
Existence is suspect
Selfish
in measures lavish
End
for you never will mend
Confess
none of my business
This is poem 16 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Ain't none of my business poem". Form: A modified sort of Couplet. Rhyme Scheme: AABBCC....
Love Right Hate Heart Life Light
Everyone yearns for this thing called love,
Someone to meet, who they know is just right.
It needs an offset, this world of potent hate,
a clarion call of hope, for every aching heart.
Does one walk about, just leading their life,
Hoping to meet someone, to fill them with light?
A lover's gaze as soft as a feather, as light,
Two kindred souls entwined in the web of love,
Two beings fused together, living one life.
To know that, to have that, is everyone's right.
No science can compute the matters of a heart,
No medicine can heal those ridden with hate.
It never takes much effort to spew out hate.
Darkness is the norm in the absence of light.
Fist-sized holder of conflicting emotion, that heart,
A container fit to be filled with bursting love;
In one fleeting moment, when things aren't right,
can forget that warmth, the nourisher of life.
In the chaos of it all, it's people that make a life,
People that bring us forth, ones we desire, even hate.
We sometimes chance upon someone, who makes it all right.
Whose eyes are kind, and as bright as a beam of sun light.
It is said that the best of us is reflected in those we love,
Those that dare to persevere, and find the key to our heart.
In some tiny nook, hidden inside every single beating heart,
hides a thirst for a soul to call their own; for a life,
whose missing pieces are filled in by the deft hand of love.
And when love deals his hand, he leaves no room for hate.
Amidst unforgiving minutes and uncertain seconds, a beacon of light.
Whenever it comes, it is worth the wait, and will feel right.
It might not work, it might fail, but is no fault for you to right.
sometimes it just makes sense to not think, just go with the heart.
We all travel, on roads of time, searching for the elusive light.
It is the search, the journey, the experience of it all, that's life.
And every time you take a turn, a road that leads down to hate,
Turn right around, take your time, you are never far from love.
Love is your right.
Hate hurts your heart.
Life's best viewed in light.
This is poem 15 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Love Poem". I have kept the language and message simple. The form was hard enough a challenge. Form: Sestina
Someone to meet, who they know is just right.
It needs an offset, this world of potent hate,
a clarion call of hope, for every aching heart.
Does one walk about, just leading their life,
Hoping to meet someone, to fill them with light?
A lover's gaze as soft as a feather, as light,
Two kindred souls entwined in the web of love,
Two beings fused together, living one life.
To know that, to have that, is everyone's right.
No science can compute the matters of a heart,
No medicine can heal those ridden with hate.
It never takes much effort to spew out hate.
Darkness is the norm in the absence of light.
Fist-sized holder of conflicting emotion, that heart,
A container fit to be filled with bursting love;
In one fleeting moment, when things aren't right,
can forget that warmth, the nourisher of life.
In the chaos of it all, it's people that make a life,
People that bring us forth, ones we desire, even hate.
We sometimes chance upon someone, who makes it all right.
Whose eyes are kind, and as bright as a beam of sun light.
It is said that the best of us is reflected in those we love,
Those that dare to persevere, and find the key to our heart.
In some tiny nook, hidden inside every single beating heart,
hides a thirst for a soul to call their own; for a life,
whose missing pieces are filled in by the deft hand of love.
And when love deals his hand, he leaves no room for hate.
Amidst unforgiving minutes and uncertain seconds, a beacon of light.
Whenever it comes, it is worth the wait, and will feel right.
It might not work, it might fail, but is no fault for you to right.
sometimes it just makes sense to not think, just go with the heart.
We all travel, on roads of time, searching for the elusive light.
It is the search, the journey, the experience of it all, that's life.
And every time you take a turn, a road that leads down to hate,
Turn right around, take your time, you are never far from love.
Love is your right.
Hate hurts your heart.
Life's best viewed in light.
This is poem 15 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Love Poem". I have kept the language and message simple. The form was hard enough a challenge. Form: Sestina
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Will you understand?
Will do good for you to remember,
that though I look put-together;
I am most of the time, weak,
unraveling as we speak.
Guilty of repeating a mistake,
even with so much at stake;
It is like each little lesson,
evaporates after a session.
I sometimes forget to hope,
find it all hard to cope;
Give up without a thought,
something for which, I fought.
I seem to have so much to say,
yet keep everyone at bay;
even with the best of intent,
I find it hard to be, content.
I wonder what you'll think,
If we'll ever be in sync;
When you hold my hand,
will you understand?
This is poem 14 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Message in a bottle poem". This one is me wondering aloud, and forewarning the one that is meant to hold my hand through life. Form: Quatrains; Rhyme Scheme: AABB.
Don't play with fate,
that text can wait.
Take the NO PHONE ZONE pledge.
that though I look put-together;
I am most of the time, weak,
unraveling as we speak.
Guilty of repeating a mistake,
even with so much at stake;
It is like each little lesson,
evaporates after a session.
I sometimes forget to hope,
find it all hard to cope;
Give up without a thought,
something for which, I fought.
I seem to have so much to say,
yet keep everyone at bay;
even with the best of intent,
I find it hard to be, content.
I wonder what you'll think,
If we'll ever be in sync;
When you hold my hand,
will you understand?
This is poem 14 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Message in a bottle poem". This one is me wondering aloud, and forewarning the one that is meant to hold my hand through life. Form: Quatrains; Rhyme Scheme: AABB.
Don't play with fate,
that text can wait.
Take the NO PHONE ZONE pledge.
Bitten.
Yellow-brown skin,
smooth, soft canvas
for your masterpiece -
an angry red splash;
affirmation of love,
or unleashing of lust?
Fireworks, last night.
This is poem 13 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Celebration Poem". I have chosen to step out of the ordinary interpretation, and poem about the celebration of two bodies together - sex. No form, no rhyme, not needed here.
Take the NO PHONE ZONE pledge on the right. NOW.
smooth, soft canvas
for your masterpiece -
an angry red splash;
affirmation of love,
or unleashing of lust?
Fireworks, last night.
This is poem 13 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Celebration Poem". I have chosen to step out of the ordinary interpretation, and poem about the celebration of two bodies together - sex. No form, no rhyme, not needed here.
Take the NO PHONE ZONE pledge on the right. NOW.
Monday, April 18, 2011
My Grand Scheme
Honey:
Am off to the Uni.
A linguistics lecture.
Sensei:
To all my gakusei.
Nihongo, part time.
Hello:
By this evening, fellow!
Freelancer, as ever.
Stage:
This D-iva doesn't fit any cage.
Amateur theater dabbler.
Empower:
Every little budding flower;
Give, and share what you have.
Activist:
without being alarmist;
some voices need to be heard.
Flight:
Margazhi season in all its might.
Permanent Canadian resident.
Interview:
With Oprah, such chances are few.
Published author/poet, and more?
Cuddle:
Leaves me in a befuddle.
Monogamy is its own reward.
Dream:
My own grand scheme.
One day, it'll all be mine.
This is poem 12 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Big Picture Poem". This poem is all about me and my big picture. Form: Triplets, with a modified rhyme scheme, AAB, instead of AAA.
Please take the NO PHONE ZONE pledge by clicking on the Oprah widget to the right side of this poem. THE CONVERSATION CAN WAIT.
Am off to the Uni.
A linguistics lecture.
Sensei:
To all my gakusei.
Nihongo, part time.
Hello:
By this evening, fellow!
Freelancer, as ever.
Stage:
This D-iva doesn't fit any cage.
Amateur theater dabbler.
Empower:
Every little budding flower;
Give, and share what you have.
Activist:
without being alarmist;
some voices need to be heard.
Flight:
Margazhi season in all its might.
Permanent Canadian resident.
Interview:
With Oprah, such chances are few.
Published author/poet, and more?
Cuddle:
Leaves me in a befuddle.
Monogamy is its own reward.
Dream:
My own grand scheme.
One day, it'll all be mine.
This is poem 12 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Big Picture Poem". This poem is all about me and my big picture. Form: Triplets, with a modified rhyme scheme, AAB, instead of AAA.
Please take the NO PHONE ZONE pledge by clicking on the Oprah widget to the right side of this poem. THE CONVERSATION CAN WAIT.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Befriending Wall.
He lives out his life on this online wall,
420 characters define his life's stories.
Friends from everywhere, some made right here,
his solemn duty is to post, comment and update.
Family he has almost forgotten to take into account,
remind him of their existence with a relationship request.
Here, it is all about the glee in his life,
and the gakusei takes over sometimes, to gloat.
sometimes this wall requires immediate attention,
then he better not forget to tag, those concerned.
He has loved here, fought here, lost here, found here,
been poked, hugged, kissed, courted, and even thwarted.
And in the tradition of what a wise poetic man once said,
he says to himself, "Good walls make good friends".
This is poem 11 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Profile Poem".
The form is couplets, a set of 7 in all.
420 characters define his life's stories.
Friends from everywhere, some made right here,
his solemn duty is to post, comment and update.
Family he has almost forgotten to take into account,
remind him of their existence with a relationship request.
Here, it is all about the glee in his life,
and the gakusei takes over sometimes, to gloat.
sometimes this wall requires immediate attention,
then he better not forget to tag, those concerned.
He has loved here, fought here, lost here, found here,
been poked, hugged, kissed, courted, and even thwarted.
And in the tradition of what a wise poetic man once said,
he says to himself, "Good walls make good friends".
This is poem 11 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Profile Poem".
The form is couplets, a set of 7 in all.
Survivor.
Frozen in that smile, so bright,
eyes filled with your kind light,
the ones that fought each fight,
and knew moments darker than night.
This is poem 10 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Snapshot Poem".
This one is for my mother and her sister (my chitti) who are true champions, and is inspired by a recent pic that the three of us took together. The form is a Quatrain, with the rhyme scheme AAAA.
eyes filled with your kind light,
the ones that fought each fight,
and knew moments darker than night.
This is poem 10 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "Snapshot Poem".
This one is for my mother and her sister (my chitti) who are true champions, and is inspired by a recent pic that the three of us took together. The form is a Quatrain, with the rhyme scheme AAAA.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
SI's Sonnet.
Thou art the glorious scent of first rain,
when maketh it love to a grain of sand,
Thy sweet lips to touch mine I wait in vain,
Oh, how I yearn for the touch of thy hand!
I long for the love that fills thy bosom,
The eternal spring of thy wondrous gaze,
Life sans thee is an endless dark chasm,
Oh, how strange and wily are life's ways!
Sleepless nights are filled with thy moonlit face,
Stars lose their light to the gleam in thy eye,
Weeks and months pass in wait of thy embrace,
Oh, how I roll over in bed and sigh!
And for long I shall play this game of thine,
For one day, thy heart is sure to be mine.
THIS IS A SONNET. MY SONNET. In the tradition of the Bard's sonnets:
It has three quatrains and a couplet.
It follows the rhyme scheme abab-cdcd-efef-gg.
It follows the iambic pentameter - exactly 10 syllables per line, 5 stressed, 5 not stressed.
It is about love, as most of the bard's sonnets were.
It introduces a problem in the first three quatrains (that of unreciprocated love) and proposes a solution in the end ( that the poet will wait and win).
It has been a cherished goal to pen a sonnet this NaPoWriMo. And I finally did. I AM CRAZY PROUD OF MYSELF RIGHT NOW. I ROCK!!!
This is poem 9 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "A form poem".
when maketh it love to a grain of sand,
Thy sweet lips to touch mine I wait in vain,
Oh, how I yearn for the touch of thy hand!
I long for the love that fills thy bosom,
The eternal spring of thy wondrous gaze,
Life sans thee is an endless dark chasm,
Oh, how strange and wily are life's ways!
Sleepless nights are filled with thy moonlit face,
Stars lose their light to the gleam in thy eye,
Weeks and months pass in wait of thy embrace,
Oh, how I roll over in bed and sigh!
And for long I shall play this game of thine,
For one day, thy heart is sure to be mine.
THIS IS A SONNET. MY SONNET. In the tradition of the Bard's sonnets:
It has three quatrains and a couplet.
It follows the rhyme scheme abab-cdcd-efef-gg.
It follows the iambic pentameter - exactly 10 syllables per line, 5 stressed, 5 not stressed.
It is about love, as most of the bard's sonnets were.
It introduces a problem in the first three quatrains (that of unreciprocated love) and proposes a solution in the end ( that the poet will wait and win).
It has been a cherished goal to pen a sonnet this NaPoWriMo. And I finally did. I AM CRAZY PROUD OF MYSELF RIGHT NOW. I ROCK!!!
This is poem 9 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "A form poem".
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Every time I jump a wall.
I still remember that moment,
when you hugged me tight from behind,
and her shocked stare, with mouth wide open;
But you were blissfully unaware.
In moments of pain, even now,
I wish I was back on that bike with you,
burying my head into your back, reassured,
by the tilt of your head, towards mine.
I had your attention, all the time,
I wore that like a badge, like a medal,
you were the most interesting being, on earth,
and my world revolved around you.
You were my boy-to-man transformation,
You opened the forbidden door to pornography,
And instructed me on the sacred art of auto-eroticism.
We opened the gates of sexual exploration, together.
I looked into a mirror, and tried to see me, as you did,
Attractive was a word I used with others, never me.
From a haircut, to a shirt tuck, I did with care,
and yes you were right, they did notice.
I loved that you waited every evening,
to have me on your bike, and drive me home,
I felt like a king, flying in his chariot,
your questionable driving skills, notwithstanding.
And then I jumped a wall, to come to you again,
We held hands, had long walks, and huge talks;
It was never enough, one could never tire of those times;
you walked me home, and it was your turn to jump that wall.
You taught me to free myself, to let myself go,
made me aware of my own sexuality, of the beauty in my being,
and what it means to be desired, admired, and loved.
Every time I jump a wall, I think of only you.
This is poem 8 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "a poem that remembers an old relationship". Remembered here is my best friend from school, my sex-ed teacher, my innocent boy-crush, my constant companion, the shoulder for all my teenage angst, rolled into one.
when you hugged me tight from behind,
and her shocked stare, with mouth wide open;
But you were blissfully unaware.
In moments of pain, even now,
I wish I was back on that bike with you,
burying my head into your back, reassured,
by the tilt of your head, towards mine.
I had your attention, all the time,
I wore that like a badge, like a medal,
you were the most interesting being, on earth,
and my world revolved around you.
You were my boy-to-man transformation,
You opened the forbidden door to pornography,
And instructed me on the sacred art of auto-eroticism.
We opened the gates of sexual exploration, together.
I looked into a mirror, and tried to see me, as you did,
Attractive was a word I used with others, never me.
From a haircut, to a shirt tuck, I did with care,
and yes you were right, they did notice.
I loved that you waited every evening,
to have me on your bike, and drive me home,
I felt like a king, flying in his chariot,
your questionable driving skills, notwithstanding.
And then I jumped a wall, to come to you again,
We held hands, had long walks, and huge talks;
It was never enough, one could never tire of those times;
you walked me home, and it was your turn to jump that wall.
You taught me to free myself, to let myself go,
made me aware of my own sexuality, of the beauty in my being,
and what it means to be desired, admired, and loved.
Every time I jump a wall, I think of only you.
This is poem 8 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. The prompt: "a poem that remembers an old relationship". Remembered here is my best friend from school, my sex-ed teacher, my innocent boy-crush, my constant companion, the shoulder for all my teenage angst, rolled into one.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Maybe they are right.
They say am uptight,
to turn a deaf ear to norm;
to their rules, I don't conform,
Maybe they are right.
They say it's a futile fight,
God never meant for man to live,
this way, us, he won't forgive,
Maybe they are right.
They say I need to think straight,
for every sickness, there is a cure;
They just seem so very sure,
Maybe they are right.
How will I ever see the light,
lament they, in this abominable path;
their way of life, is my holy bath.
Maybe they are right.
Theirs is a world of fight,
of division, difference and hate;
their thirst for blood will never abate.
What do they know about right?
I will try with all my might,
To be me, to love like I was meant to do;
The beauty of it all, they have no clue,
In their eyes, I never want to be right.
This is poem 7 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD 2011 Challenge. This poem is dedicated to everyone who is different in any way, who choose not to follow a stupid norm and be themselves, and are proud to be so. The world is a better place because such people exist. Prompt: "Maybe (blank)" poem. I had quite an easy time following a rhyming scheme here, ABBA. :)
to turn a deaf ear to norm;
to their rules, I don't conform,
Maybe they are right.
They say it's a futile fight,
God never meant for man to live,
this way, us, he won't forgive,
Maybe they are right.
They say I need to think straight,
for every sickness, there is a cure;
They just seem so very sure,
Maybe they are right.
How will I ever see the light,
lament they, in this abominable path;
their way of life, is my holy bath.
Maybe they are right.
Theirs is a world of fight,
of division, difference and hate;
their thirst for blood will never abate.
What do they know about right?
I will try with all my might,
To be me, to love like I was meant to do;
The beauty of it all, they have no clue,
In their eyes, I never want to be right.
This is poem 7 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD 2011 Challenge. This poem is dedicated to everyone who is different in any way, who choose not to follow a stupid norm and be themselves, and are proud to be so. The world is a better place because such people exist. Prompt: "Maybe (blank)" poem. I had quite an easy time following a rhyming scheme here, ABBA. :)
Sunday, April 10, 2011
9:20 am
Sunday.
Two hours ago:
Trains: one missed, one boarded
a race against time
to reach the land of maamis and music.
An hour ago:
People: one dignified, one childlike
two silver haired old men
each with a story to share with me.
Now:
Roads: one traversed, one to be taken
time to bid adieu to a reporter’s beat
farewell my literary kith and photographic kin.
An hour from now:
Scripts: two mastered, one devilish
the characters borrowed from the Chinese
leave me bedazzled, the kids win again.
This is poem 6 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD 2011, my way of celebrating NaPoWriMo. Prompt: "Time of day" poem.
Two hours ago:
Trains: one missed, one boarded
a race against time
to reach the land of maamis and music.
An hour ago:
People: one dignified, one childlike
two silver haired old men
each with a story to share with me.
Now:
Roads: one traversed, one to be taken
time to bid adieu to a reporter’s beat
farewell my literary kith and photographic kin.
An hour from now:
Scripts: two mastered, one devilish
the characters borrowed from the Chinese
leave me bedazzled, the kids win again.
This is poem 6 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD 2011, my way of celebrating NaPoWriMo. Prompt: "Time of day" poem.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Potent
Pleasure
sweaty, steamy
Writhing, thrusting, moaning
fleeting ladder to the milky way
Orgasm
This is poem 5 for Robert Lee Brewer's April 2011 PAD Challenge. Prompt: "A goofy poem". The form is "Cinquain".
sweaty, steamy
Writhing, thrusting, moaning
fleeting ladder to the milky way
Orgasm
This is poem 5 for Robert Lee Brewer's April 2011 PAD Challenge. Prompt: "A goofy poem". The form is "Cinquain".
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The Writer
Sun-burnt faces, sweaty little beings,
screaming at the top of their voices.
a confusing array of little legs, hands and balls.
Lying on that wire hammock between those citron trees,
On an adventure with the secret five, tinned fruit,
tongue sandwiches and orangeade - that's you.
A nervous silence, a flutter runs through the class,
marked sheets of math and science reach each hand.
A sigh of relief from the future geeks.
She walks in in her crisp cotton saree,
her oh-so-perfect diction tags along.
She reads out your essay, and gives you an A - that's you.
Nubile images of sexual revelry, bits from cyber space;
an all new world of excitement for the newly pimpled.
Excesses of all kinds find release.
He touched her there, he felt him there, she fondled her there;
words of erotic passion create orgasmic imagery;
have to wait for the next literotic chapter - that's you.
They process thousands of lines of 0s and 1s
stitch up wounds, treat every illness and pain.
and build underground tunnels to see it all begin.
What do you do for a living - I write.
What do you do for fun - I write.
What will you always do - write; that's me.
This is poem 4 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD 2011 Challenge.
Prompt: "Type of Person" Poem
screaming at the top of their voices.
a confusing array of little legs, hands and balls.
Lying on that wire hammock between those citron trees,
On an adventure with the secret five, tinned fruit,
tongue sandwiches and orangeade - that's you.
A nervous silence, a flutter runs through the class,
marked sheets of math and science reach each hand.
A sigh of relief from the future geeks.
She walks in in her crisp cotton saree,
her oh-so-perfect diction tags along.
She reads out your essay, and gives you an A - that's you.
Nubile images of sexual revelry, bits from cyber space;
an all new world of excitement for the newly pimpled.
Excesses of all kinds find release.
He touched her there, he felt him there, she fondled her there;
words of erotic passion create orgasmic imagery;
have to wait for the next literotic chapter - that's you.
They process thousands of lines of 0s and 1s
stitch up wounds, treat every illness and pain.
and build underground tunnels to see it all begin.
What do you do for a living - I write.
What do you do for fun - I write.
What will you always do - write; that's me.
This is poem 4 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD 2011 Challenge.
Prompt: "Type of Person" Poem
If those pills had worked..
You:
Wouldn’t have had that nine month ordeal.
I:
Wouldn’t have breathed, screamed, thrashed, kicked, and lived.
He:
Wouldn’t have had another reason to hate, to run away.
They:
Wouldn’t have bothered, just the way they are now.
The world:
Wouldn’t have been so unforgiving; you would have had another chance.
I:
Am glad they didn’t work, and that I came to be, to live the life,
You:
gave me; the world you showed me; the man I am today, because of you.
He:
Will never know what he missed; what we could have been; his loss.
They:
Have no power over what we are, or will be; bless them.
The world:
Will see us walk, hand in hand, till the very end.
This is my third poem for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD 2011 Challenge. Prompt: Day 3 - "Imagine a world without you" poem.
I don't know what to call this form, but it is a form. :P
Wouldn’t have had that nine month ordeal.
I:
Wouldn’t have breathed, screamed, thrashed, kicked, and lived.
He:
Wouldn’t have had another reason to hate, to run away.
They:
Wouldn’t have bothered, just the way they are now.
The world:
Wouldn’t have been so unforgiving; you would have had another chance.
I:
Am glad they didn’t work, and that I came to be, to live the life,
You:
gave me; the world you showed me; the man I am today, because of you.
He:
Will never know what he missed; what we could have been; his loss.
They:
Have no power over what we are, or will be; bless them.
The world:
Will see us walk, hand in hand, till the very end.
This is my third poem for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD 2011 Challenge. Prompt: Day 3 - "Imagine a world without you" poem.
I don't know what to call this form, but it is a form. :P
Don't look back.
That black, bottomless ocean,
Still craves you in suicidal fashion.
Those fair weather folks,
remain the same fetid, uncooked yolks.
That void of nothingness,
would love to see you again as a mess.
Sleep would cherish making you its slave,
if you dare venture, into its lightless cave.
Those years of undead pantomime,
are best frozen back in time.
This is my second poem for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD. The prompt: Day 6:"Dont (blank) (blank)" poem. Simple meter here, AABBCC... This is what my poems born out of depression would look like, years ago.
Still craves you in suicidal fashion.
Those fair weather folks,
remain the same fetid, uncooked yolks.
That void of nothingness,
would love to see you again as a mess.
Sleep would cherish making you its slave,
if you dare venture, into its lightless cave.
Those years of undead pantomime,
are best frozen back in time.
This is my second poem for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD. The prompt: Day 6:"Dont (blank) (blank)" poem. Simple meter here, AABBCC... This is what my poems born out of depression would look like, years ago.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Garden City
This is a place,
where with a twist of his hand,
the auto-wala turns the meter on;
unfamiliar sight in my land.
This is a city,
where the sun seems shy.
He seems hesitant to make me sweat;
Humidity here, is a lie.
This is a place,
with people speaking a tongue,
that seems familiar, yet distant;
like a word, by a strong hand, wrung.
This is a city,
that plays host to folks of every kind.
its own, ironically, seem forgotten; invisible;
one wonders why they've been left behind.
This is a place,
with the malls, the restaurants and the watering holes.
the young-uns cups for sure runneth over;
a city that transformed for these foals.
This is a city,
where you can truly shop till you drop.
Retail therapy is its own reward;
just know when it's time to stop.
This is a place,
with a cool evening breeze,
one that soothes and fondles your being,
more such simple pleasures, please.
This is a city,
that has embraced the wonder of concrete and steel.
and sent its old worldly charm out the door;
was it worth making, this deal?
This is a place,
that embraced me, calmed my mind;
but couldn't keep home-sickness at bay.
Thanks for this time, for being kind.
This is a city,
that's close to home, but never will be.
There's everything you want, here.
But then, there's something about me.
This poem is the first of a set of 30, one written every day in April as part of Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD (Poem A Day) 2011. April also happens to be National Poetry Writing Month. This is the prompt for Day 2 - Postcard poem. A fitting start to my poeming for this month, as I am away from home on a short vacation. Have tried a meter here, ABCB.
where with a twist of his hand,
the auto-wala turns the meter on;
unfamiliar sight in my land.
This is a city,
where the sun seems shy.
He seems hesitant to make me sweat;
Humidity here, is a lie.
This is a place,
with people speaking a tongue,
that seems familiar, yet distant;
like a word, by a strong hand, wrung.
This is a city,
that plays host to folks of every kind.
its own, ironically, seem forgotten; invisible;
one wonders why they've been left behind.
This is a place,
with the malls, the restaurants and the watering holes.
the young-uns cups for sure runneth over;
a city that transformed for these foals.
This is a city,
where you can truly shop till you drop.
Retail therapy is its own reward;
just know when it's time to stop.
This is a place,
with a cool evening breeze,
one that soothes and fondles your being,
more such simple pleasures, please.
This is a city,
that has embraced the wonder of concrete and steel.
and sent its old worldly charm out the door;
was it worth making, this deal?
This is a place,
that embraced me, calmed my mind;
but couldn't keep home-sickness at bay.
Thanks for this time, for being kind.
This is a city,
that's close to home, but never will be.
There's everything you want, here.
But then, there's something about me.
This poem is the first of a set of 30, one written every day in April as part of Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD (Poem A Day) 2011. April also happens to be National Poetry Writing Month. This is the prompt for Day 2 - Postcard poem. A fitting start to my poeming for this month, as I am away from home on a short vacation. Have tried a meter here, ABCB.
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