Happy New Year!

Wish all a Joyous and Peaceful New Year!

Welcome 2014 - Year of the Horse

darkening twilight ~

the unicorn trail vanish

into the moon

fine weather

fine weather 

in its stillness, the river

stops its flow, then turns

Merry Christmas!

WISH YOU ALL A MERRY CHRISTMAS!

alone

alone have I come,

alone shall I go – a windblown

flower’s smile 

spots

departed souls ~

sifting through the void

spots of sunlight

His Highness Uthradom Thirunal Marthandavarma who passed away today....also reminding of the others who have left us....

Atisha - I

The greatest achievement is selflessness. The greatest worth is self-mastery. The greatest quality is seeking to serve others. The greatest action is not conforming with the world's ways. The greatest magic is transmuting the passions. The greatest generosity is non-attachment. The greatest goodness is a peaceful mind. The greatest patience is humility. The greatest effort is not concerned with results. The greatest meditation is a mind that lets go. The greatest wisdom is seeing through appearances.

~ Atisha ~

John Milton - I

“A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.” 

~ John Milton 

Paradise Lost or Paradise Regained, Belated Birthday Greetings, John Milton.

Wading, wading

wading into the dark,

wild swans –rippling

waters

wading into the unknown

wild swans – the eternal

waters reflecting 

sudden surge

after all these years 

of tedium, a sudden surge of spirit ~

watching a sunbird 

dart crisscross 

across the hedgerow

wind chill

wind chill ~

ah! the pleasure of

walking the earth

awake

through the seasons

the core of permanence

how long can
a butterfly rest
how long can it
flutter by - finding
the core of permanence

Mahmoud Darwish - I come from there

I come from there and I have memories

Born as mortals are, I have a mother

And a house with many windows,

I have brothers, friends,

And a prison cell with a cold window.

Mine is the wave, snatched by sea-gulls,

I have my own view,

And an extra blade of grass.

Mine is the moon at the far edge of the words,

And the bounty of birds,

And the immortal olive tree.

I walked this land before the swords

Turned its living body into a laden table.

I come from there. I render the sky unto her mother

When the sky weeps for her mother.

And I weep to make myself known

To a returning cloud.

I learnt all the words worthy of the court of blood

So that I could break the rule.

I learnt all the words and broke them up

To make a single word: Homeland..... 

~ Mahmoud Darwish

Mahmoud Darwish (Arabic: محمود درويش‎) (13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008) was a Palestinian poet and author who won numerous awards for his literary output and was regarded as the Palestinian national poet. In his work, Palestine became a metaphor for the loss of Eden, birth and resurrection, and the anguish of dispossession and exile. He has been described as incarnating and reflecting "the tradition of the political poet in Islam, the man of action whose action is poetry". ~ his Facebook page says.

winter solitude

winter solitude

all day

her blue dreamy eyes

follow the birds

winging the sky

* a verse from a story in process ~

dry leaves

my heart bids me

to be quiet, but,  the mind

says I am required to speak~     

dry leaves clatter

in the wind

Well, the thought....the short verse came to me on seeing that tree..It seems the bark of the tree too changes colour and sheds along with the leaves....Green in summer, turns red through autumn/before winter...sheds the red bark and turns white in winter months and then again fresh green bark and foliage in spring...into summer and so on. It is the story of the tree, but definitely carries the human story as much...

Winter Air

"It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake,

the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. 

This crisp winter air is full of it. ~

John Burroughs" - "Winter Sunshine"

Thoreau -I

Finding yourself yoked to Matter and to Time. Not a mosquito left. Not an insect to hum. Crickets gone into winter quarters. Friends long since gone there, and you left to walk on frozen ground, with your hands in your pockets. Ah, but is not this a time for deep inward fires? - Henry David Thoreau

end of a long day

end of a long day 
far afield 
a burst of sparkling firecrackers!


a week past Diwali celebrations still on. 

predawn quiet

the quiet of predawn 

craving for a day 

with nothing in it

first line could be "predawn quiet" as well...but guess i prefer the way it naturally flowed, than to "work" for cohesion and tightness - well, sometimes.

pallid winter sky

pallid the winter sky~ 

contemplating a splash, 

tomato red

high tide

"Haiku is not a shriek, a howl, a sigh, or a yawn; rather, it is the deep breath of life." ~ Taneda Santōka


high tide 
the thought
of a thought

November begins

November begins ~

memories close to my heart 

closer still

WISH YOU ALL A HAPPY DIWALI!

autumn light

autumn light

the leaves turn

quietly,

oh, so quietly 

Photo: Hilal Ahamed Thankamangalam 

What is the Use of Poetry?

Question Time: What is the Use of Poetry
Meena Alexander 

Standing apart I looked at her and said –
We have poetry 

So we do not die of history. I had no idea what I meant. ~


Why do we have poetry in a time like this? For me that question folds into another: What does it mean to belong in a violent world? 

I think of the invisible archive that each of us bears within, a deeply personal ingathering of sights and sounds and scents and bits of the sometimes ruined materiality that memory allots—and perhaps this is another way of thinking about the coruscating flow of the inner life that gives meaning to our existence, all that comes up when we dare to say “I.” And surely this is the province of poetry.


http://www.worldliteraturetoday.org/2013/september/what-use-poetry-meena-alexander#.UmCoP3CBnXA

Whisper of the thunder rolls

giving a voice

to someone else’s word –

thunder rolls

whisper through

the windy rain

'The Paradox of Time'

"Time goes, you say? Ah no! 

Alas, Time stays, we go;"

The Paradox Of Time, Henry Austin Dobson
http://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/henry-austin-dobson/the-paradox-of-time-2/

blue skies of autumn

blue skies of autumn

on this illusion of wings

souls soar

above and beyond,

the walls

within and without 

autumn rain

autumn rain ~

washed afresh 

the fresh leaves 

rise against the skies,

how bracing! how easing...

reconnecting

reconnecting with 

the words that once 

echoed in my silence, 

here, I hear the sound 

of violets break open

another life

a life ends 

burning to ashes -

what justice can words do, 

the pen 

rests on a blank page, 

another life 

begins elsewhere

autumn moon

autumn moon

turning the other way

evening star

impermanence 

yet, as if time never was 

autumn moon

the times we spoke, 

the things we spoke 

all forgotten 

yet, 

autumn moon

autumn breeze

autumn breeze ~

leaves let go

a melody

in this evening's hush

in this evening's hush 

the crescent moon too, 

a luminous bird 

set on flight, 

into the darker skies

Idle questions

idle questions rumble 

through the clouds gathering 

at sunset ~ beneath, 

the ground resounding 

with the laughter of children

afternoon nap

afternoon nap 

out of the blue 

a three note bird call 

fading 

into the blue

drops of light

drops of light 

falling on rain-washed leaves, 

thoughts settle 

leaving ink-marks 

on a blank page

Some leaves aren't as "rain-washed" as I thought they were...marks of dust...so are the thoughts on a page...marks of ink.  

sidewalk

sidewalk verdant, 

fresh with the scent of 

newly opened flowers ~

in the wind,

songs of autumn

too deep

too deep, the nectar 

the sunbird slides 

dew-bathing

morning rain

morning rain 

through the window ~

this urge 

to lean back 

and

August moon

August moon

through the drifting 

clouds 

a thought returns 

to its source