Month: February 2013

I should have…

couple in love
(Photo credit: fourme)

I needed to love you more.
Spend longer hours caressing your curls,
Driven around in cosier comfort of colder climes,
Lost and discovered each in the shrubs of the tea estates,
Shopped in exclusive malls for rare perfumes,
Sat by the beaches, listening to the waves,
Drenched our unread sorrows in coffee houses,
Read Lawrence and Hardy in sips and turns,
Philosophized in admiration of silence,
Swayed on the hammock defying the sun,
Played the guitar , notes that touched deep,
Stepped in reams of dreams, in tango taps,
I hesitated the, I regret now,
This is but a retrospect.

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The Climb up in Life

Barefoot climb.
Steep plane vertical.
Holding onto slippery rails.
Hills Blue and Black.
Dark, deep forests swaying wild.
Hot rocks smouldering.
Stones simmering in noon heat.
Lone companion on a long trudge .
Looking for the crest.
Elusive with every step.
Yet higher the ascend.
Hear the irregularity of breath.
The blaze of a fire.
Then the Sight of the Invisible.

The Ghost Chat

Ghost below the Sunset?
Ghost below the Sunset? (Photo credit: Scott M Duncan)

Ashen, pale, macabre, worried,
He helped me find some ground,
Several lost miles we traversed,
Me looking to him as a guide,
Through the clouds, he conversed,
Each morning, as I drove west,
He storied me of dreams unkempt,
Of white fields we furrowed, sweated,
Dust strewn sapling irrigated,
Grappling hazy emotions unchained,
Remorseless, winged, ghoulish, morbid,
Crows that refuse rice yoghurt rolled.
You should have lived through the night,
We indeed could have at dinner laughed.

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Faces

Big Beautiful Face Statue in Tenerife
Big Beautiful Face Statue in Tenerife (Photo credit: epSos.de)

Faces-
They come back to me in time,
I see them repeating as before,
Visages which seem the same,
They remind- stirrings once more,
From among crowd, they haunt,
The stares- the mind they challenge,
Memories, they nudge and taunt,
Rise from the ashes of passage,
Anger at frothing amnesia so selective,
From the dustbin, burnt leaves reformatted,
Books of the past, in reclaims so restive,
Knocking at strained re-collective doors in regret ,
Countenances so lucid that they fade,
Into oblivion yet more jaded.

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A Security Guard’s Story

I am a security guard at the Debit and Credit Bank.
I earn a decent , minimal salary in these times of recession.
My monthly pay packet is fair enough to take home after tax deductions.
I pay taxes so that the bank where I work can be sustained through Government funding.
I am told that as a taxpayer I own quite a substantial number of shares in this DC Bank.
So I sit through the night and guard the bank which I own as a taxpayer. I guard so that external brigands do not plunder.
Everyday, I watch in awe as these blue suited, dignified looking, learned but taciturn bankers move out in hordes in the evenings.
I stay behind television screens and read newspapers ( I read as I am lonely in the darker hours of night as I struggle to keep awake)… read that my bank is paying its investment bankers $ 250 million as bonuses…It is about performance related pay… (PRP)
It is paying $ 400 million as fines for rigging the ‘Libor’…
It is creating a reserve of $ 1 billion to protect the bank from mis-sellings in insurance and swaps… ( I do not understand these words…so these might be very technical terms to understand and implement… that is why these bonuses are paid) ; banks are ambiguous; banks are complex.. they mis- sell; I mis-read!.

Democratization of the writer and of writing. . .

The Poem
The Poem (Photo credit: Zavarykin Sergey)

Few wrote earlier.
Fewer published.
The elite read.
The miniscule number published.
We had to visit libraries to borrow books.
WordPress changed all that …
All of us write now. Or at least most of us blog…
We read each other’s writings.
There are several million blogging on a daily basis reading or writing.
We comment on what another writes.
We appreciate what the other person writes.
We encourage each other to write better.
We try not to criticise in mean manner.
We listen to the other voice.
We are multitudes; we are global…
We never knew each other until we met here.
We encourage each other and raise the bar subtly.
Raise Expectations … authors attempt to reach these expectation stars.
It is no more a feudalistic few privileged who are men of letters but several millions talking in a babble that each one of us listen to and try to comprehend… (at least we think we comprehend).
We make leaders of blog writers… we follow them…and leaders become servant leaders who follow followers…Gandhi called for servant leaders for democracy to succeed…
We are not ethnocentric. We are several nationalities and several cultures.
I call this the Democracy of the WordPress Mosaic…
May be we are all vain …
But more so I think we are what Thomas Grey wrote: ” full many a flower is born to blush unseen and lose its fragrance in the desert air…
WP gave us an opportunity to blush seen , not to be lost in the searing heat of the desert of life…
WP is what I see as proletariat power writing in force as Marx would have said…or the advancement of the plebians as Romans would have said…
And all of us write so ‘pressingly’ as Keynes would have wanted it here and now for in the long run we are dead!!!

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