Literally, Figuratively

From the beginning of the start
To the ending of the close

The tautology of my life
Pales into the colourless.
The synonimity of each day
Blends the same flavour.
Most often.

So I’m rummaging for newness
Trying to read between the lines
Picking at the petrifying thoughts
In the basket case I’m becoming.

Seeking a fresh persona
From the foxy oxymoron
Of a nervously brave, but
Bravely foolish woman
I seem to be.

From rhythmic metres
And the cacophony of rhyme
Onomatopoeic in grunts and sighs
In the sibilance of loss
Sometimes thumping drumbeats
Of ecstasy gone awry…

The metaphor that life has become
Is getting mighty hard to unravel.

Till then-
Let me address myself
In supposed hypbole…

“The Unresolved Poem”

15 June, 2013
Welcome to the nerdy rambler’s riot of misplaced misunderstood logic of life in literary overdose.
PS – Google does a great job of giving you definitive definitions on some of the over-the-top figures of speech used in the write.

Pantomime

When you would have me
Still, and restful, and serene
I cannot help but shift, drum fingers
And move to a rhythm in my head.

When you ask that I simply exist
Unleavened, and therefore, unpounded
How – How, I ask, can I be that
Which I can’t. Ever.

You may have left that fizz aside.
But boy, have I got enough, within!
That niggles, and nudges, and
Slowly, then steadily, and rapidly
Bubbles forth.

You wanted a model;
Perhaps a mendicant, of the soul;
That you could, then mould.
But- May I, myself, form into the
Shapes of my dreams?

Mould into them,
Lest I mold.

4 June, 2013
Online. In anticipation, of cross-currents, and cross-wiring.
Sigh. I know. I’m in need of some rest

Reeling

Frame by frame
Stitched by feeling
Trimmed with pain
Frayed somewhere
Threadbare elsewhere
Rich and luxuriant
Colourful and picturesque
Or sepia tinted
With fading memories

Life, doesn’t it just
Leave you

Reeling?
Sometimes?

26 May, 2013

Waiting in the Wings

I’ve been understudy too long
Even though you assure me
I’m leading lady, for you, always…

Do I take you at face-value?
Or perhaps read between the lines
Of your facetious compliment?

Compliment, it is, I presume.
I’ve lived the role, you know;
Once too often.

Messed up, sure, sometimes
But never the scripted ones.
Only when I tried to improvise.

That should, perhaps, tell us a story.
Are we too written in?
Ready to be written off?

Or shall I ever, but always
Watch her rule the hearts
Of those who hang on her every nuance?

While I am waiting in the wings?

 

 

 

 

 

 

18 May 2013
Picture, Courtesy Google Image Search

Marble in a Bottle

I’m that glass marble
You loved to play with
Kept me polished you did
And loved me true!

I took all those knocks
When you played
Fierce and focussed
With nary a thought
But the win!

Kicked in dirt,
Slammed, and shot
Still, the shine stayed on
Still, I played
Rather, you played me…

You soft caress
Almost unthinkingly teasing
A careless toss
Jingling and tingling
Oh! How I lived for it!

Till today, when, yet again
You played me.
I stayed true
But the shot was off
And a sliver was lost…
As was the game!

Still I stayed
Because you just
Couldn’t leave
Me
Who knew, would another
Play me?

Scarred, am I?
Inviolate, I thought.
It would seem, so did you.

And so I’m kept safe
Rattling around
Looking on, yearning ever
Looking at you
Playing prettier ones…

Too bad, the bottle was made of glass.

 

 

 

 

 

7 May, 2013
Online. I meant to write something else. Funny how you never get to choose
Pic. Courtesy, Google Image Search

Limitless, Shail’s Sky :)

Shail Mohan’s Photograph on her Blog, Shots and Captures. Click on picture to  go to the blog

The Sky is an ocean too …
Dying to be, more ….
Like the seas,
Sometimes blue,
Or is it emrald
A touch of stormy grey?

It has no waves, sadly
And yearns so much …
And then on wings of wishes
They come;

White, cottony, frothy
Selfsame, those waves…
And lap the edges of that
Nothingness, which remains

Quiescent, waiting.

Gently around the edges
Slowly spreading out…
So that, soon, it shall be
Blue no more …

26 April, 2013
Online, after yearning, here too
And thank you Shail, for the endless prompts you give this writing challenged rambler by way of your wonderful photographs!

Aspire

Shail Mohan’s Photograph on her blog

My tendrils twirling tenaciously
Time on my side…
Tiny, yet strong
Fresh and Eager.
I aspire.
Don’t you want to?

10 April, 2013
Online, Inspired  :)

Note: Inspired entirely by this post from Shail Mohan’s entrancing photograph. And titled similarly, in supplication of her awesome captioning skills
Shail, do excuse me for doing this without prior permission. Couldn’t help it

Shail, this one’s for you

Second Chances

If you’ve ever been told
Winning isn’t everything,
Winner or not,
You’d have probably scowled

So where does winning take you?
To fame? Throw you up to gut screeching joy?
Or gloat and brag and preen?
Perhaps line your purse
Or maybe help you hitch that ride onward?

I know the best thing about it
(Errrm… not winning ie)
Is you get another shot at it..
You’re lucky, you know
You get to do it differently.
You get to say things you never would have.
You get to find yourself.

Yes, winning is good.
But if you don’t, maybe
You’ll get that other chance.
And boy! Second Chances matter.

Go on, and take that chance.
Believe. It’s a miracle waiting to happen

8 April, 2013, online
Sashu’s Update on FB, which read: “Always, always believe in second chances. It could be the best thing you’d ever do – for others as well as for yourself. ” is the reason for this ramble

Clichés

To the rapt fifty, that day
(Or was it forty-eight?)
I ranted.

When I rant
They need to be rapt!
Or else…
The ogre, you see, is at work!

I, as usual, on my soapbox-
About clichés -
In speeches, in essays
In letters, in e-mails
They’d need to write
For me to evaluate.

Class Eight.
Writing tasks
Now you’d be a-thinking-
This here lady’s really
Got a nut loose.
Clichés, and Class Eight?

Well, yes. I did.
They listened. They giggled.
I swear I even heard some snorting too!
In the next fifteen minutes
I had to be done. Just in time I did.
They were saved, by the bell!

And so, I forgot, as I suppose, they did too.

Till.
Ta-da! Surprise!
Exams time, and papers galore
(That, incidentally, is where I’m at  )
Some neat, some spidery
Some short, some too darned lengthy!
Some diatribes, some earnest
Some irreverent, some irascible

And some – God help me!
To wake me from the stupor
of the overdose of the work-
For, I spy …

Cliché.! I jump. I cheer.
I look again. Ooooh yes!
Right along there – c l i c h e’
That dashing tiny accent too, to boot!
I have never been more blessed!

Never mind that the child wrote:
I quote:
“It’s a cliché to say speeches like this“
Unquote
About the topic; and put me well in my place!
I do this fist pumping grunt of satisfaction.
I accept that criticism.
And I do that clichéd thingy.

I write a ramble.
This a-way.

Clichés are good.

23 March, 2013.
A ‘eureka’ moment

 

 

Secrets

Secrets to keep
And some to share
Many to tell
But none to hear

Secrets blossoming
Each day, within, without
Some haunt; some are hunted

Tall tales, and short jabs
Some Spicy and
Some just plain ol’ drab
No matter what the flavour-
Can you resist even one?

Secrets they damn
And they sometimes do more harm
Than good, if you ever saw any in ‘em!

You’ve got yours
I know,
For, I sure have mine!

So, I’ll tell you one
If you tell me another
Let’s make it one, together
Or maybe, take a bit farther?

Or let’s just secret it away
Till it burgeons, and spills
And let’s itself out;
For that is it’s nature

Secrets are to hide,
And then to tell
Then to spread
Till finally, back at you, it heads!

You know then-
You should have kept it
A secret!

 March 2013
Online, but of course, and getting crazier by the day
Image Courtesy Google Image Search for ‘Secret’