Love ...

posting for one shot wednesday
http://onestoppoetry.com/2011/06/one-shot-wednesday-celebrates
posted for promising poets' parking lot
http://thursdaypoetsrallypoetry.blogspot.com/


'You are a hypocrite, you are false' – says he,

and I wonder where I would keep so much hatred,

for I have already filled every nook and corner

with honey colored hope!

'Your feelings are soiled mud' – says he,

and I worry what I would do with so much anger,

for I have learnt only to smile

a smile, that has a sunshine hue!

Last night

it rained behind my closed pane.

It kept raining

on the green grass

on the lively branches

on blossoming flowers.

In the morning

I kindled a sun ray,

cupped the golden morning in my palm

and planted a sapling in the mud.

I decide to nurse and nurture it.

http://amolife.com/image/inspiration/the-wisdom-of-life.html

In search of Buddha ...

posted for Mag 71

http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2011/06/mag-71.html

posted for poetry potluck

http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/2011/06/poetry-potluck-week-41-saints-monks-and.html

I wish I could fly

like a colorful bird

or like those vibrant angels;

perhaps then I could rise

above the dream and the doubt

and see my Buddha.

In search of Buddha

I walk

among nameless faces,

jostling around crowd

in a religious market,

struggling to recognize

the woman and the man,

believing in beads and trinkets

or sitting cross-legged on a straw mat,

like a wave

lost in an ocean

lashing again and again at the shore

in search of the ocean

imagining itself separate from its own immensity.

Someday, soon I would realize

that my Buddha is here

in the rising Sun,

in the dew of dawn,

in the speck of dust,

and immersed in you

and in me.

I might take a little more time;
but soon my search will end,
and I will fly
like a colorful bird,

like those vibrant angels

in my freedom.

illusion

posted for poetry pantry; Poets United.
http://www.poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

sesame prawn ...

The weather has been beautiful lately and there have been a naughty romantic hide' n ' seek between the sun and the rain reminding me of adolescent lovers. This was enough to lift my spirits to a higher crescendo and in no time I was ready for a walk in the near by park. It was absolutely gorgeous- the bright sun, the nip in the air, the newly sprouting leaves, the blooming flowers were sheer magic and held a sharp contrast to the mundane, workaday, penny counting, predictable world that so often disappoints me. At that point, I was only thinking of a deep forest green with a tinge of a golden – orange border, edged with strange brownish green splurge, and the wet Mango and Gulmohar grove at the park were responsible for this.

After a rejuvenating walk, by the time I was humming and entering my house my optimism was at its peak. I anyway have a strong attachment for my house. I feel like an empress there and live all over it with frenzy. The mornings are fixed for the balcony and my fresh cuppa tea; the newspaper is for the living hall; the articles and blogging are at my study where I often just sit and stare at my book shelf and feel smug; a special corner for enjoying music and a unique settee for reading; the guest room to recline and miss my parents and indulge in self pity; and a chat with my son in front of that warm sunny window, my favorite spot in the whole house.

It's only my kitchen where I do not think I have spent enough time as I am mostly busy with my outdoor work and writing and teaching. But I was already in a mood that was adventurous and I rushed straight to the kitchen which was very warm and lighted to pamper my already mellow mood. And I was in a perfect state of mind to try this delicacy named prawn in sesame and honey. Well, so what if I do not have the ownership on the recipe and watched it on a television cookery show a month or so back yet I always use my own set of modifications and my style of improvisations to make it so much my own; and my usual special touch is nothing but to simplify. At that point, even the facts like my son’s apprehensive scowl about my culinary expertise, the grimace on my cook’s face or the fact that I didn't have sesame oil at home weren’t enough to reduce my enthusiasm a bit. So this is how I went about it :

· I washed and cleaned the prawns ( some 10 medium sized ones) and marinated them with salt, pepper and lemon juice for about 15 minutes.

· I cracked open an egg in a medium sized bowl and after whisking it a bit put 3 tbl spoon of flour (maida), 2 tbl spoon of corn flour, a pinch of baking soda, 1/4^th tbl spoon of sugar, pepper and salt to taste, in it.

· Adding water I transformed the mix into a batter which wasn't too watery.

· Heated oil in a frying pan dipped the prawns one by one in the batter and deep fried it.

· Heated a wok (a pan would do) and put 3tbl spoon of honey, stirred to spread it a bit in the wok and then put those fried prawns.

· As I kept stirring I put sesame seeds and a few chili flakes all over them and they beautifully snuggled and embraced the prawns.

And then my yummy prawn was ready to serve hot and change the premonition of people regarding my cooking ability. See what a positive attitude can do to your confidence level! J

tu ki jaane pyaar mera!

Untitled ...

posted for ONE SHOT WEDNESDAY
http://onestoppoetry.com/2011/06/one-shot-wednesday-week-50.html?
also for Thursday poets rally
http://thursdaypoetsrallypoetry.blogspot.com/2011/06/agreement-for-thursday-poets-rally-46.html


That day

I decided to break away

from my promise of ‘forever’

permanently;

not as I wanted anything new

but because I didn’t want the old.

Since then a ruptured void

 between is and was has descended.

As I departed,

my porous promise hung between us

like a raindrop frozen in mid air,

without changing shape,

without merging with Earth.

I am over you at last,

thrashing out stubborn memories

 into nothingness.

I do not miss you.

Only

sometimes, when I open the east window

and the honey colored morning fills the room

like tea pouring smoothly into a cup,

I catch myself talking to you.

At times, when I cross that familiar bent,

walking in the market,

or watching life from my verandah

I silently chide myself

for thinking of your deer eyes

and unruly hair.

When I dip my feet into the river

and follow quietly the water pattern on it

I hear our old arguments,

and my pledge -

I would die before I forget you

Often in sleep

I murmur

trying to hide a feeling

so personal
 that no one should mull over it,

not even you;

trying to grope for those

insane laughter days,

and then

waking up hastily
to my familiar lonely white walls.

Now,

in the languid rustle of the breeze

there are words of lingering lament.




I humbly accept the perfect poet award from Poets Rally

Words
 like lovers,
ecstatic,
pour on me
and gives
a few dizzying moments
and a courage to transform the world!

I nominate Eclipseofthemoon 

Prelude

A tribute to planet Earth;

 a few years from now on we will cross the red line of crisis for economy/growth/climate/natural resource/population all at once. It is of no use to press the panic button but it is high time to be aware of the global disruption we are heading towards, so that at every individual as well as global level we plan a slow but steady sustainable model.
posted for ONE STOP POETRY http://onestoppoetry.com/
and for POETS UNITED http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/06/poetry-pantry-is-now-open-53.html

I wish to die watching you dance

from corner to corner,

whirling across latitudes and longitudes,

twisting and twirling through history

in a pirouette with Time.

I think, I wish to die watching you dance.

Your limbs curving against skyline

contours upright,

poised,

toe flexed,

leaning on bygone moments,

shaking off the tattered quilt 
of disruption and destruction,

with lips half parted in hope,

leaping sky-high

and scooping up persistent  future dreams,

balancing and transforming

 soot, ruins and rubbles into strong pedestal.

I know, I wish to die watching you dance.

Dance!

Vaulting and catapulting against the inevitable,

plummeting and then rising,

changing chaos into cadence,

dance, following the crescendo,

of the age old beat of existence,

encouraging, cheering

 the man who forgot to walk

the woman who started limping;

a tango with a yet to be born hope.

 I wish to see you dance as I die.

I will see my children

catching the roasted sunrays on their tongue,

breathing in the beauty of a fresh drizzle

and laughing aloud in mirth.

Watching you dance, I would like to die .

Evening ...

When the noon stretches and yawns in dreamy languor

and gets ready to depart in a siesta like gait,

flecks of sunrays dance on the tree top

like jingling sequins on moss green leaves,

Evening comes

 like a new bride, with bashful footfalls,

collecting the remnants of the last lingering noon,

 ready to reconcile  into the velvet arms of a full moon night.

On that evening

you may hear the moist voice of moonlight

beckoning you;

since so many centuries

the voice of moonlight has been waiting for you.

posted for POETS UNITED 

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/06/thursday-think-tank-51-time-out.html