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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.
Oct 5, 2010
Peace;
The day and the night united,
Owls smile, pleasantly delighted
And all feels well
When dawns the twilight.
Migratory birds
Reconnoitering with their mates
During the pleasant
Jetstreams of spring.
The currents swimming underneath
The brilliant blue of the sea;
The warmth and the chill are a hurricane
Let loose; set free.
If the world can reunite
And reach it's rightful paradigm
Why can't I have you again?
Why oh why can't I?
Aug 31, 2010
Pools of pity,
Thoughts clandestine,
An ache lights up the sky,
Watch a shooting star fly by,
Forgot to make a wish.
A glimpse of the green leafy trees,
Heard the sound of the birds and the bees,
A picture the colour of the sky at midnight.
Wondering what grass feels like,
Craving the first touch of the scales of a pike,
Just a sliver of summer air,
And the taste of a stale autumn pear.
Dancing children, just the sounds of their laughter
Laughing carelessly about a happy ever after,
It strains my eyes but I manage to see
The flapping wings of a bird set free-
Retreating to The Den,
Longing sets my heart on fire,
There was never another site
That I would admire
More than the sight of the freedom that awaits me,
Glimpsed through a fracture in the wall,
Caging me.
Jun 4, 2010
12) Defining Poetry
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 3:44 AM
Bulging eyes, a wheezing chest
Eyes twitching without much rest,
"You don't like poetry?" I said to you
You nodded tersely, you claimed it true.
"Poetry's lame" I heard her say
It was her mantra for each new day
"Impossible" I countered her thoughts
Like giving value to a bunch of naughts.
"I'll tell you what poetry is" and I opened my arms
She asked me what I was showing her: the sky? the farms?
Nodding, I pointed to the pole star, the sheep, the stream
I pointed towards the land that lies before us like a dream.
The innocent bubbles of water, gurgling like children
The babble of it as it crosses over rocks and by the playpen.
The darkening shades of the electric sky
And the flutter of wings of brids as on the town they spy.
I run my finger across the coarse grains of sand
The thick blades of grass, the contrast of parched, cracked land.
I gesture at the smallness of fleshy dewdrops of the morning
The hues of ochre oranges and sun yellows as night is dawning.
She looks confused, swept by beauty for sure
But to her, the message behind this land does not lure.
She doesn't see the sadness in a dog's slanted, hazel eyes,
Nor the hurt swimming in the tears the dark sky cries.
The swaying happiness of long stalks of wheat
The horrid chunk of many knives slicing through meat
The ebb and flow of the tide, a message, a symphony
The masquerade of life, the spectrum, raisn of melancholy.
Don't you see it? Don't you feel the rush of wind?
The cool breath of it in your hair, your gasps are pinned;
Don't you envy the listlessness of leaves?
Or how night darkens the jutting eaves?
She shakes her head. Now I feel angered by her.
She doesn't know the beauty of the smoothness of fur,
The uneasy trickles of time, ticking slowly by,
The rust on the rails as trains pass,
The movement of the planet and its many entities,
The constant sound of noise, the feel of life, the taste of wetness
The sight of energy and the smell of roses.
The sight of energy and the smell of roses.
I am sad that you don't see through these masks
I am sad you don't see life pass on by
I am sad that you don't realize the world moves constantly
As if it is keeping itself from saying goodbye.
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.
May 1, 2010
4) Thunderclaps, Night Sky
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 10:55 AM
Claps of thunder
Rolling like atolls on the sea
Across the moon-drenched sky,
And I can't help but wonder why....
Dark clouds twist into shapes
Silhouetted black in the light
Omens flashing across the day sky,
And I wonder why...
The rain tattooes the carapace
Which shatters at the paranormal force,
Like a curtain of life and chaos both
Trees cower in sheer remorse,
And I hide in the building,
Not permitted to follow the drops
That hammer over the window
And land in puddles with innocent plops.
If I could come and go like the rain,
If I could hide like the moon, I would,
If I could show the world my dark skies
And prove that be the best I could.
If I could be so sudden yet so discrete,
And like the rolling thunder sweep your feet...
Regret filling me, the sight of the changing sky,
And I ask myself why I do cry.
Feb 11, 2010
23) Drown (Part I)
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 6:05 AM
As the winter rains tattoo the windows,
And the skies turn inky black,
Walking on, I know there is no road
That will help take me back.
For I feel so lost in a giant world
Made out of concrete and metal dreams,
Each step I take is made so complicated,
No simplicity remains, it seems.
Where did all the happiness go?
Did it evaporate like these puddles of rain?
For Man makes this life so hard to live,
So borderlined and downright insane.
The largest lakes or the smallest teardrops
Call me name for I, in them, want to drown
To insulate my mind from the grasps of the world
As this insanity continues to pull me down.
Jan 6, 2010
Abattoir
Abattoir of memories
Hang from the poplar trees
Like strings of spider web
Swaying in the steady breeze.
They are eroded graduallyBy the ebb and flow of time
And they fade into the air
Hiding both our loves and crime.
Abattoir of memories
My own pet slaughterhouse
Will remain permanent
As memories will escape like a mouse.
Lovely pain and happiness,
Gone with this abattoir,
Revel in emotionlessness
And a tired sight so noir.
Why but I can break it down
I can surely control Time & raze
Raze the ghosts of my past,
For it’s just too much time cannot erase.
Let the memories linger,
Let the pain stay,
Let it remind me of the past,
Pray that remain, it may.
;;
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