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3 years ago
Mar 12, 2012
Incandescent Dichotomy
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 5:45 PM
This one's a little long. We were on our way back from camps and at the train station, I looked up to the sky to the sight shown below. For a strange moment, it triggered a lot of suppressed emotions that I've explored in this poem.
A radiating lamp in the night sky,
It watched over us like a mother
And year after year, we've watched
The dark of the night it tried to smother.
I saw the moon as an open book,
Blackened with dust and age,
Pages yellowed by the tinge of memories
Of billions of people filled with rage.
It watched the wars, the world's plight,
And comforted dying soldiers at night;
It watched the theories of science evolve
As the face of our planet continued to revolve.
There was a time when it saw
The face of Cleopatra smiling at its white body,
A time when it scanned the face of the dying children
In the Holocaust, shielded from everybody;
An era when it saw Cro-Magnon man
Transform to homo sapiens with time,
Those millennia when the dinosaurs died
It saw their plight with amusement sublime.
A silent spectator, a selfish celestial entity,
It stood silent as the world changed for the worse
It watched us rob Mother Nature of her wealth
None of which can we ever reimburse.
It's hands are spattered with the screams of the dead,
The triumphant roars of the winners
And the indifferent sighs of the crowd
Most composed of ardent sinners.
Historians with humped backs and grey hair
Devote lifetimes to analysis of text,
But if only they looked at the moon
They would see the history of our people there.
Murderers, thieves, dictators beware--
The moon's eyes have watched you all along.
And though, like a God, it might simply sit back and stare
It saw you as you subjected your society to wrong.
But beggars, well-wishers, do-gooders in all right
The moon watched you suffer and cry
But to save you from your undeserving plight
It did not even try.
------
It was 4 o'clock in the evening and the sky was red
The sun a jewel hanging low in the expanse of colour overhead
But when I looked back, a dense, dark blanket muffled all colour
The night sky stank of the evil and the dead.
Clouds flew with the wind and white bathed the sky,
The light of the moon brought comfort to human life
And for an instant when I watched it intently
I could see the history of man - the triumphs and the strife.
An open book, an incandescent dichotomy,
Once a child's object of fascination
I saw you as a treasured permanence of my life
But now you seem so dark, evoking an eerie sensation.
Watch me as I make my history,
And my progress as you marked our pathbreakers'.
Laugh at my degeneration,
And ignore my desperation.
Feb 6, 2012
Oh, Look. Utopia.
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 4:17 PM
The visions I see, the visions I feel,
Why must they be tinged with fantasy,
And leave me reckless?
They leave me helpless,
A newborn calf standing on her toothpick legs.
Why must I have to taste the flavourless dregs?
Those daydreams take away from me
All semblance of reality
I wake up to a utopia so doctored.
Though behind my eyes, I see a perfect world
In reality, it's laced with famine and disease,
More holes than Swiss cheese.
But in the mountains where the buttery sunlight reigns,
In the sorrowful heart which happiness feigns,
Amidst a field of tulips,
Red, yellow and blue;
In the holy water that runs through rivers deep,
In the fertile soil within which the aromatic rain seeps,
In the eyes of a winner,
Eyes hazel and true...
I pleasure in such a fantasy;
But when faced with such happiness in reality,
Enriched with the belief
I have found utopia.
Under our feet.
May 15, 2010
Sun rays on skin, scalding, scorching,
The heat of north prevails
And the swimming pools are afresh with joy,
Under the sun do the homeless wail-
Heat haze that blurs the lines of vision
That sets ablaze the flesh of arms,
Melting the tar that holds the road
Leaving empty, burning farms-
And the cool winter swells
That lick ice upon the feet of beachgoers
In the south, where the sleet is here
And the lakes are devoid of eager rowers-
Children chastised to bundle up more
And the people wander sipping coffee
Watching ice on the needles of a pine
Melt like it were English toffee.
And an equinox on the equator
The heat one one side, the cold on another
Houses enjoying the pleasant weather
Familier intact- father, mother, brother.
In the north, the summer houses are many and full
Families apart where no interruption can push or pull-
In the south, shelter is needed and people are apart
Children switching from divorced mother to father, more the art;
June
Separation
The heat and the cold at war again-
June,
Imagination
And happiness borne by equinoxes-
Hovering between extremeties
June-caused externalities
That time of year is here
Where it's either as hot as hell
Or as cold as the world is old.
Feb 5, 2010
No I don't believe in a God
Because I don't want rules to life
Like the morning sun isn't blue
Like a newborn calf doesn't moo
But I'd love to believe
In a God if he set you free
If he doused you in cold water
And forced you to See.
So doesn't it hurt?
Doesn't the pain accumulate-
And run through your blood like cold fire-
Doesn't it kill all your desire,
Didn't He make you see
All the thoughts that plagued me?
For I believe you. I believe you know Him.
For I believe you, even though I don't believe in Him.
And the rush you've made me feel,
All my sorrow just seemed to heal-
And all the hurt that ever lay,
Seems to have been washed all away.
There's just one emotion I taste
One which I feel in much haste
Oh I'm blissful more than I've been before
And you've heard Him; I need no more.
I see a new face behind the same eyes,
I see you pure in your soul,
I see you immune to all the world's lies,
I see no more a gaping hole.
You've been compeleted,
A feat I wanted to help you achieve
But you've done this all by your own,
Your seeds only you have sown.
But I'm happy, oh, I'm happy
More than I've ever been before
This rush I can't pen in words
The ecstacy makes my sorrow sore.
I'm happy,
And you're happy.
And to me that's all I need,
And to me that's damn good a deed.
Jan 27, 2010
8) There's Always Hope
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 7:29 AM
To you there's no hope, no,
But I understand,
How things might be getting
A little out of hand,
Without a shoulder to weep on,
Without a bed to sleep on.
To you the world is black and white,
Yet I understand
How you only see grey
Because you need a helping hand,
But you're recovering from a fall,
That's all I want, yes, that's all.
You may be right, but I know you're wrong,
Your heart will never stop singing a song
To lure Hope to your side and she'll come,
Just believe me.
You may lose your head and think you'll die
From this pain that tells you life's a lie,
But there's always Hope,
You'll see.
Dec 22, 2009
Poem # 22 If I'd Scream Loud Enough
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 5:33 PM
A poem I wrote reflecting Leslie's feelings in Ink Exchange, Book 2 of Wicked Lovely by Melissa Marr. She is directing this to Irial in her heart,
If I’d Scream Loud Enough
The wind may blow in the other direction,
It may yell into our ears—
But nothing will stop me from screaming
Even if you don’t hear.
Even the tallest mountain discourages my act,
What, have you now taken sides?
The rivers swim away from my simple touch,
Is it in darkness your heart resides?
I remember when I was longing for your touch,
Your promiscuous fingers called my name,Your inhumanity to me was nothing much,
Just an inconvenience in the game.
But I didn’t know you’d use me,
You were telling me you’d free me from my pain,
You freed me of hurt, pain, fear and too glee,
And all those beautiful emotions that had kept me sane.
I’d escape from you, oh yes I would,
Even though in your otherworldly love I live,
I’d wrench the door open and run away
Unbinding myself from the gifts you give.
I treasure my humanity, sanity more than I do you,
To free me, you can’t even leave me, can you?
To give me happiness, you can’t even let me go?
Though I’ve told you that this life hurts me so much more,
Why do you try to kill me so slow?
There’s people out there waiting for me to run,
There’re lovers and friends who’d never hurt me in a huff,
I know I can resist your passion and leave
If I’d scream loud enough.
Dec 21, 2009
Poem # 16 Melodies Like Ribbon Fly
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 5:45 AMMelodies Like Ribbon Fly
I falter at the sound of that sweet music,
Such melody eluding the lies of life;
Like pure, auditory, saccharine magnificence!
Sad beauty singing the woes of a wife;
I turn up the dial and whimper in earnest
The slow, earnest flow of the song is like white-
An expanse of so much, so hidden…
And her sorrow is the dark shadow in sight.I bow my head as I hear her sing,
The song isn’t music; it’s the tune of her heart
Stuck on heartbreak and jammed on that floor,
She sings the song like she can do no more.
Her melodies like ribbon fly,
Travelling with the current of the gale
Fuelled by the ferocity of her hope
That her love listens and to leave her he’ll fail.
Broken, listeners like me bordering the earth
Send our hopes to accompany hers,
As her lonesome ribbon of melody flies
Yearning to relight heartbroken embers.
Poem # 12 Quiet Night
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 1:02 AMQuiet Night
How – is this possible, at the least?
For the sky to darken so much like this-
To blacken the streaming stars and the moon in the sky.
Silence that coats us all like this
Be intensified by the dreaming children of the night.
Samhain,
You bring down your rain
So we can live with the dead
Once again,
But Samhain,
You mean to mock our pain?
When the dead have been and gone
And our grief had driven us insane…
So every year you give us a chance
To lose our minds in this never-ending game
Don’t tarry our sleeping children,
Don’t come again, oh Samhain….
Dec 20, 2009
Poem # 10 Hallowe'en
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 11:45 PMHallow’s Eve
Her bald nose protruding, condescendingly, she sees
The little town children are all asleep!
Sighing, her eyes twinkle – her sisters have done well,
For the town is as silent as death; not a croak, nor a beep.
And she flings a crevasse into the icy cadaver-
Her voice reverberates in a sordid cackle,
Signalling the season of Fear to skirmish and shackle!
Her warty demeanour brings forth two more like her,
Her warty demeanour brings forth two more like her,
Foul, ugly and rotting – three witches, coated with fur,
And now raise the werewolves; dogs howling into the sky-
For the moon is a pale circle the blinded wolves try to pry.
The witches swing in motion to find the fire-elves,
The witches swing in motion to find the fire-elves,
Who shall creep into the houses and set ablaze all shelves,
Their brooms fly across the sky and they meet the Devil,He swings his trident – he is as sour as a Seville,
And lo! Fear coats the town like rust,
The children shake in their beds – protect themselves, they must!
For ghouls and gnomes and goblins are there,
Creating havoc in their very own air!
Wild beasts they are, but this is the one time they are free-
Free from their virtual hell; on this eve they come to Be,
To live, to laugh, for this is the one annual chance they have,
To reclaim the empire that was once theirs – Transylvania, Slav...
This freedom tastes like sweet elixir to them,
To the pumpkins, the ghosts, the vampires, the Witches of Salem,
To all beasts unknown, to those fairytale villains,
This eve is a night in tribute to them!
So they wander free and live like the good old days,
When the world was in their hands, and it succumbed to their ways,
When the town women wept, running, shielding their children,
When the town women wept, running, shielding their children,
When men screamed in cursed pain, rounding their cattle and hen,
O this night – what a wonder for these trapped entities,
For when it is up, Man once more frees
His own empire, and downs this ancient magic,
The tale of these beasts is rather tragic.
****I wrote this for a Halloween Poetry Competition a Hogwarts group I am a part of on Shelfari have every season. Was a runner up!****
Poem # 9 Listen to the Magic
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 11:08 PMListen
Hush, insignificant child,
Try to listen to the croak of the Ravens,
Their sheer screeches and red eyes pulsing,
Danger that pushes through their veins.
Vile creatures, o’ the night-
Hear their screams of threat.
Hush, child.
Listen
To the death that surrounds you like soul-The hope that the earth leaks
The hearth the fire presents
The calm and tranquil the water breathes,
The mobility of the lively air,
The enormous leap of the spirit:-
Hush, child. Tend to only those matters,
That you know your young soul can feel,
For there is magic here invisible to you,
But oh so visible to me.
****Dedicated to the House of Night, Untamed! The bit where Zoey feels the Spirit of the Raven Mockers in the air =D****
Poem # 8 Quant Jewels
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 10:54 PM
Quaint Jewels
The faint tingle of bells whispering to the wind,
Curtains fly out to meet the fresh air blowing west,
Silence foiled by the curling of ashen paper,
Escaping the quiet fire and rolling over the Chest.
Flames lick the old box of wonder curiously,
Heat pouncing maliciously on the carvings,
Smoked wood scents the breezy sea twist,
Yellow is sets ablaze the ancient art on the box’s wings.
Charred black wood, and peculiar velvet ribbonSurrounded the glowing lustre of mysterious secret
That the box reveals through a fissure from fire,
As if time and glory themselves have been reset.
Old and quaint, emeraldine light they spark,
A hidden burn of colours sheltered by damage and evil,
They were quaint jewels protected ferociously,
By the forces of nature – feral, hurt and medieval.
;;
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