Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Amaa yaar..

What's wrong? I seem to be sinking in the quicksands of words. It's almost terrifying. It's Baaaaaaaaaaad. Would I ever have thought I'd be a clicky who writes nonsense gibberish and hopes that people find it filled with profound thoughts?
Yes, I must've.
Deep down the dark caves
with bereaving winds
and strongest minds
I must've found such
Lord, stop me!

but before that,2 quickies:


Shirin. Shehnaz.

I love your names.
A silver muslin slides softly.
A slight breeze rushes lightly
Like twinkle-toed haste of a pony.

A bell tinkles in one.
The other ends in a regal tone,
like the gentle gasp at the end
of a li'l peel of laughter.

Listen to the blues..
The sky, the mist -
They're calling you.
And the sea.
It murmers.It whispers.
Offers you pretty shells.

No, not pearls.
You have to reach it's heart for that.
Not just your names.

2. "Weakling"

I realized a while ago,
What everybody does
At times or others..
That "children are born
a boon to their mothers"
Applies sometimes
To some children,
Some boons
And some mothers.
About the rest,
Nobody bothers.

No. It's uncurable. I brought it onto myself. Hey wait, was it "viral infection"? :0

Being Fidel to the Fiddle

Dance, dance my heart petite
To the tunes of the jolly guitar
Dance all your pleasures away
And send them a-whirling afar

How come you're smiling still
After bidding them "so long"?
Wait, do I see the fellas again -
They're bringing The bliss along!

--28th January 2006

Don Hunted Down at Dawn

He alters himself - over and over again.
Again I try, but falter - gasping in pain.
Pain it is, though a beckoning one.
One that a heart feels, clasping to none.
None to hold on and nothing to fight out -
Out! Hey, what's all the ranting about?
About, maybe - you, yourself and yours
'Yours truly's strewn all over the moors
Moors that I once longed for rides in
In the spirit of the lovely Amazon within
Within those grounds which knew no bounds
Bound am I, forever, by thirsty bloodhounds.


[Me looks at the 'pome' just constructed. Tries to find out what it means.Cannot get heads or tails out of it. Remembers the forthcoming exam and chuckles to herself. 'The hunting hound of midsemania' is at it once again!Well, knock me down with a cliched feather - but it juggles the words in quite an okayish manner.]

--27th January 2006


What should I do sir, what does it take?
M'lady's angry - since the daybreak.

Don't lie, dear sir- you put in 'daybreak'
Just so that it would rhyme with 'take'.
I know your tiff's but ten minutes old
Though seems hours to love's stronghold.
It's clear you're just a novice in this path -
Did she shout at you, a deluge of wrath?

Not at all- she's just puffed up as a cake.
(It didn't - the one she was going to bake.)
Woe the moment I said -"nice fresco it'd make!"
Is it too late now to correct the mistake?

Panick not, my friend - such a case as yours
A bunch of gladioli in a jiffy cures.
mind you this time, don't say a word -
a silence by silence, is to be conquered.

heh heh! Writing a silly poem cheers me up like anything...

--21st January 2006.


"farewell, shy angel - my heart was never a token.
'twas a silent fortune cookie - meant to be broken."

that was a two-liner I wrote in my other blog which started it all...the rediscovery that I can make rhymes in English.

Then for about a month this writing bug kept biting me sporadically and i wrote a few 'pomes', and then realized it may become a bit too taxing for my own self to read these postings each time I visit my own blog.

Thus am copying out all those 'creative' posts here...now onwards, this will be the blabberboard for such spasms of creative outpour as this.