Honored by Usha Ma'am & Rukhiya


>> Dec 17, 2010

And I sold off my poems today.
The ones who bought it
had red sackbag with them.
They never knew what poetry is about,
neither did they care.
They cared about the ounce and pounds.
Convert the numerics if you will.

I have a bright Eucalyptus as my memory.
Can green be bright?
Perhaps. They have the Sun behind them.
The roots have reached where they should not.

Restraint is a play of nervous system.
You may be as random as your favorite liqour
And its a pity that it takes one peg to write a poetry
or may be one or two smokes.
Art always was whimsical, but never sedated.

With a little of all that we know,
and all that we don't,
a violin, little rings of cigar
and lost alleys of Varanasi,

You won't know what you are,
Unless you have lost yourself


5 well-wishers:

Anonymous December 17, 2010 11:28 AM  


Almost as if you speaking to me, about something that binds us, in manner, known only to us, almost.

And I loved the slow pace with which it opens up and then just carries on.

Anonymous December 18, 2010 9:51 AM  

yeah, you don't need to be sedated. But sedation can be implied at times...

kamna December 19, 2010 8:37 AM  

Art always was whimsical, but never sedated.


N i so truly agree that unless you lose urself.. ll not know urself... but llet the loss nt be loose... n closely tighty lost in your venturia!

Actually lykd the way u gradually unfolded the msg... Bful, yet again!

Usha Pisharody December 21, 2010 5:49 AM  

This poem is that Eucalyptus, bright, catching all the hidden waves, reaching far down into the depths of one's thoughts.

Each line is one that can be expounded, elaborated, enshrined, eloquently, always... :)

But this one takes it away...
"Art always was whimsical, but never sedated." I see why others have also picked on the nuances here!

And this one seals it perfectly!
"You won't know what you are,
Unless you have lost yourself

You have us lost in the poem. And you make us want to lose ourselves, the sanity that is so limiting, to find a whimsical, frail and fragile piece of ourselves to share, as you have in this poem!

I can never tire of using this word, on this blog. Brilliant!

Soumya January 19, 2011 9:04 AM  


:) yes. You know it better.

Sheph, let's take the implications only then.

Kamna, beauty is you. Thanks for sharing some. :)

Usha ma'am, I don't get surprised after all these days, that you could find out so much and eerily everything I wanted to say and more.

Blessed I am that you were there.

And to you all, the same.

The Hungry Tide

Inspirations Continue...

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