Experiments with Expressions

2009-08-23T09:13:00.002+05:00

godawful poetry fortnight
has a patron saint: William Wordsworth, in whose opinion, poetry "is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." After reading too many such outpourings, instead of fighting them, for one fortnight every year, we join them!

-----------------------

GPF # 3

Some women are capricious
They love to play games.
Some women are ambitious
They love to drop names

Some women are garrulous
They love to tell long tales
Some women are malicious
And also hard as nails

Some women are delicious
And hide many a flaw
Some women are Judicious
And know all about the law.

Such a continuum-
From Mani ben to Madelain
But where ever you go
Men are just-
MEN !

GPF # 2

2009-08-23T09:08:00.006+05:00

godawful poetry fortnight
has a patron saint: William Wordsworth, in whose opinion, poetry "is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." After reading too many such outpourings, instead of fighting them, for one fortnight every year, we join them!

-------------------

GPF # 2

O your eyes! O your Eyes!
Like twin stars in the skies.
They make a storm
in my bosom arise

Lo! Behold ! they are
Peeping at me,
from a cloud of curls,
they slowly unfurl,
Pushing me towards
an early demise
Your eyes!!

One sparkles white
and the other shines blue!
Every time I behold a cross eyed star
I will think of you -
And your eyes !!

One sparkles blue
and the other shines white
As I lie awake on a lonely night
thinking of your eyes-
tell me dear heart-
Must we ever say good byes?

GPF # 1

2009-08-19T16:02:00.005+05:00

godawful poetry fortnight
has a patron saint: William Wordsworth, in whose opinion, poetry "is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." After reading too many such outpourings, instead of fighting them, for one fortnight every year, we join them!

------------------

GPF # 1

After perusing the classics
After researching the old masters
Meters and stuff Jurassics (1)
My poems are still disasters

To rhyme better than a vogon (2)
was my modest aspiration.
Many a fiery slogan
Was coined in this exertion.

Now I fix my hope to master
The poems and verses basic,
on a flask or a canister
Of Gargleblasters trans galactic.(3)

Notes :-
1. Jurassic- Google it or ask Spielberg.
2. Vogon- Google it. Read H2G2 again...you haven't read it yet ???
3. Trans galactic Gargleblaster - A quaff for the strong hearted.
Guaranteed to blow you to the next galaxy.

Long time!

2008-10-09T18:27:00.003+05:00

Long time no show,
Silent the music has gone
My puppets wait in a row
the children prefer Pokemon.

Silent the music has gone
As I wait by the road
The children prefer Pokemon.
And I think of my empty abode.

As I wait by the road
my fingers itch to dance
And I think of my empty abode.
this could be my last chance

My fingers itch to dance
My puppets wait in a row.
This could be my last chance
Sigh! Long time no show.

I give up!

2008-08-28T22:24:00.003+05:00

It has been declared by zigzackly that 19th Aug till 31st Aug shall be a Godawful Poetry Fortnight. The party ain't over yet!

GPF- Poyem # 4

I give up!

I am hurting.
From the top of my tired hair
to the tips of my exhausted toes
I am hurting.

Oh how I ache!
Standing up is an ordeal
Sitting down is a woe
Climbing the stairs is something
I wont wish on my foe.
Oh how I ache!

Every muscle aches and hurts
Even the one above the thigh and below the tush,
which groans piteously Every time
I try to stand, sit, rise, walk, climb, bend or push.

I am one big giant bruise,
victim of style abuse.
No more gym shoes
From now on only Jimmy Choos.

Orange sings the blues.

2008-08-24T07:34:00.006+05:00

[I declare this is NOT a GPF]

Orange was sad,
for it never had no rhyme.
He wished he had a dime
for every time he wished a rhyme.

Fellowship of Red
Was really widespread
How many rhymes of blue,
he never had no clue.
Yellow was so mellow
And loved to eat jell-o.
Green was keen,
A lean mean machine.

Poor Orange only had
Borange and Dorange.
He went around muttering
Gorange, morange, Porange?

It was a fruitless quest,
And he had already guessed
That he had not been blessed
With a rhyme for Orange!

Till he met with Purple,
As lonely as can be
Orange asked him "don’t you ever
Get lonesome like me?"

Purple sighed and said,
"No Durple, Turple for me.
Is there a Zurple by any chance?"
He asked wistfully.

Over this rhyme-less state
They sat in deep contemplation
Till some one said, “Hey look!
What a fabulous Combination!”

Isn’t there really
A rhyme for Orange?
Strange!

My Favorite Suburb

2008-08-21T16:49:00.012+05:00

It has been declared by zigzackly that 19th Aug till 31st Aug shall be a Godawful Poetry Fortnight.

******

Before Navi Mumbai on the Bombay Poona road
Sits a little suburb called Chembur.
It’s only claim to fame, apart from Chhota Rajan, was
It was also known as the Gas Chamber.

But the scenario has definitely changed of late,
And Chembur is one of the few suburbs with any greenery left
To enjoy. It has parks where every morn laughing denizens meet.
Their laughter in the morning is an excellent way to greet
a new day. The breeze wafts in the parks very gently,
The numerous clinics make sure that their smiles look dazzling dentally.

RK Studios, Geeta Bhavan, and the Central Avenue.
If you wish for a cuppa there is a CCD or Barista for you.
The temples, churches, mosques, in Chembur are galore
But the pubs staying open late seems surely the main allure.

Chembur is truly God’s own suburb as many will aver.
If you happen to visit it some day I will happily give you a tour.

******

And do I think this poem is bad ? Isn't it obvious ?

The Dawn..

2008-08-20T13:39:00.011+05:00

It has been declared by zigzackly that 19th Aug till 31st Aug shall be a Godawful Poetry Fortnight.

GPF Poyem # 2

At the crack of dawn one bright morn
I found a bird at that early hour
with its little chest heaving and wing a torn
It looked like a trembling wilted flower

“ don’t worry little bird “tenderly I said.
“I mean you No harm” I softly assured
It smiled a little ( or so I imagined)
And wearily it’s trusting eyes were closed

Such is life, I muttered to myself,
It’s the case of survival of the fittest,
But I am not the one to take it sitting down
I will help this poor bird back to its nest.

I stooped and picked up the little body
I could feel it’s heart beat wildly
Was it an angel from my garden
In need of a little help from me?

It stayed with me from dawn to dusk
It trilled its angel songs again
I watched it fly away, with a smile,
Happy to see it free of pain

The gifts of God are showered upon us
The birds, and beasts they heart beguile
As every creation delights the soul
I mourned that only Man is vile.

*****

This poem overflows with cliches. Starting from Crack of Dawn, wilted flower to the final Only Man is vile.
Cliches, forced rhyme, and an attempt to state a universal truth make it a bad poem.

Waiting for you ! GPF # 1

2008-08-19T07:38:00.022+05:00

It has been declared by zigzackly that 19th Aug till 31st Aug shall be a Godawful Poetry Fortnight.

*******

Here I await,
in an ecstatic state
perchance you may walk down this lane

Here I mope,
hoping against hope
That all my prayers won’t be in vain

Keeping a watch,
Eager and staunch
Until I see you, here shall I remain.

Your mock frowns
are casting me down
And Are slowly driving me insane.

A love like mine
So steadfast and divine
Is not daunted by your feigned disdain .

Ah! you come in view!
Oh! Who is that with you?
My God! That looks like my friend Dwayne!!

The scoundrel! The Cheat,
Is wearing MY jackeat!
And walking with My love and My great Dane!

The wind let a shriek!
The clouds poured bleak,
Trying to extinguish my blazing pain

Alas! I stand alone
in the eye of cyclone.
Drenched to the bones in the pelting rain.

*******

This has all the ingredients of what I consider a bad poem.
A relentless rhyme. A whole lot of bad poets give undue importance to rhyming. They also like to coin new and strange words for the sake of a rhyme. ( this does not include Ogden Nash and his ilk. )
A lament, this wrings out some sort of universal truths from seemingly ordinary objects and events.( The winds shrieking, the clouds pouring etc )
Exclamation marks. (Ah! Oh ! Alas!!)

Rain Haikus

2008-07-03T08:22:00.003+05:00

The rain has inspired the haikus posted here.
Will keep adding to them.

**
Little paper boat
Bravely rides the swirling stream.
June is here.

**

Teachers droning in the class
on rhythms and rhymes.
Butterflies are dancing in the rain.

**

The Magical Romance of Freddy the Frog.

2008-07-03T07:26:00.004+05:00

Hi folks ,
this is a work under construction. Any suggestions will be most welcome.

--------------

Among the reeds,
munching the weeds,
Freddy the frog sat
singing his love song

Ribbid ! Ribbid! Ribbid!

Freddy was a frog
with blue blood in his veins,
His great great uncle Ness.
had kissed a true Princess.

“When the sun meets the rain,

then under a rainbow

The magic takes place”,
Freddy was told
by his grandma Grace!

“Here I am and
there the rainbow,

but where
oh! where is
the princess mine!”
He looked skywards
for a heavenly sign.

Jogging along she came,
on the winding path ahead,
in a red track suit and
a red band round her head

Panting hard, with
a hand on her heart
she slumped against a tree.

Freddy quivered
like a young tadpole!
His indomitable heart
joyously sang,
she the one! This is she!

Ribbid ! Ribbid! Ribbid!

Freddy hopped closer,
and uttered a respectful
greeting-

Ribbid! Ribbid ! Ribbid!

She stifled a scream
then bent to look at him

The sun, the rain and rainbow,
in fact,
the whole dang universe
seemed to conspire
to assist.
So Freddy leaped
like a lightening
And smacked
one ardent kiss on her lips.

Oh ! she said !
Ooooo!! she cooed
with love light in her eyes,
and tenderly whispered
in his eager ear

“Ribbid! Ribbid! Ribbid!”

Break- a poem by Avi das

2008-06-02T09:55:00.000+05:00

Have you ever
Held your patience to test
To put together
A broken China doll?

Join you may with loving care
Make near invisible the cracks
And erase many a tear
But never again can make it whole!

For those of us
Who seek to break
That which we have
For that which we don’t

It may pay
To try and bring
Together some smithereens
And from it to know

A mirror cracked
May be rejoined
But can never reflect
A whole!

-Avi

Limericks !

2008-06-02T09:48:00.003+05:00

A few old Limericks which belong here.

1.

I have this problem you see-
Every one I meet with I disagree -
There are different kinds-
With different sets of minds-
I wish the world had a few mores like- ME !!

2.

I thought I would write a limerick or two
As it was a holiday-I had nothing else to do
Rhyming words is such a fun
I can think of hundred and one-
It’s the form and the meter and the rhythm that I cant quite get a grip on to.

3.

Such dear little girl was Fanny.
So- trusting –so sweet –real honey.
She met wicked Clive
Who took her for a Drive
And her mommy is now a Granny.

4.

Good ,Bad & Ugly went to town
Their sorrows they wanted to drown-
In a bottle of cheap booze
But they fought o’er a Flooze
Now Good N Bad are Dead- & Ugly has left the town

5.

Poor Einstine was sad,
His math book was all that he had
His teachers they failed him
His friends they nailed him

Because E=mc2 was just too rad !!!!

6.

Leo Da Vinci went to Florence
With a plan to impress the Lawrence-

Of Medici you know-
But had to run from the law

Thus-Poor Leo Vinci Left Florence.

Express delivery

2008-05-12T08:55:00.002+05:00

Express Delivery

The poet sat armed

With his pod and pen

Facing the fearsome

deadlines again

The poet was a master

The poet was a tease

He knew very well

Just How to please

“Give them mush”

he was fond of saying.

“Mush is the way to get ‘em”.

He sat with his pen

waiting for the mush

to come out surging

With the familiar gush

The hunger, the craving

The passion, the yen

But none poured

Out of his seasoned pen!

He shook his pen,

and dipped his pen

In the bottle of mush

Again and again,

Oh No! The bottle,

was dry as a bone!

He was out of mush

He thought with a groan.

The days went by

The pen stayed dry,

No longer could wait

in this desperate state,

So he set out to dial

two eight eight eight

eight eight eight eight!

“Mush-R-Us?

rush a refill of mush

Premium, Commercial or refined!

Anything is fine.

This is a matter of

life and death

My mush-less muse is

Gasping for breath!

So Pronto, right now!

And don’t ask me HOW! ”

***

"Ding Dong!" He Sprang

to the door in a rush

Outside there stood

The Goddess of Mush!

A radiant vision,

A dream surreal

from the top of her head

To her stiletto heel,

Slowly the Goddess

Sashayed in the room

Her eyes held a promise

Of an exquisite doom.

She had shaken poor poet

To his foundation

As she stretched out her arms

in an ardent invitation.

She kissed him on the lips

amused to see him blush

The poet had dissolved

In a puddle of mush.

Walking in the rain.

2007-06-22T08:22:00.000+05:00

----------------

Walking in the rain

Sharing an umbrella,

A drop on my cheek

You flick away gently

and get drenched

by huge splash

of a passing wheel

Your earth smell

Envelopes me

As I rub my cheek

on your shoulder.

Your face a little flushed,

or maybe the effect of

my rose tinted glasses.

Walking on the promenade,

feeling the rain,

We have come this way before,

You and I,

Some other monsoon,

Some other time.

---------------------------

Thanks to- walmink

http://www.flickr.com/photos/walmink/241918563/

Rendezvous [ a pantoum]

2007-06-11T08:50:00.000+05:00

I watched him from the window,

Under the awning of the coffee shop

Across the street from my house,

Waiting for the rain to stop

Under the awning of the coffee shop

His eyes kept darting down the road

Waiting for the rain to stop

His hair all damp and tousled,

His eyes kept darting down the road

Looking at time again and again,

His hair all damp and tousled,

Face stormy as the skies overhead

Looking at time again and again,

Finally having made up his mind,

Face stormy as the skies overhead,

He left the coffee shop behind

Finally having made up his mind,

he stepped out in the pouring rain,

He left the coffee shop behind

And faded away down the lane

He stepped out in the pouring rain

Across the street from my house,

And faded away down the lane

As I watched him from my window.

-----------------------------------------

[About Pantoums read here-

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pantoum]

Seduction

2007-06-11T08:41:00.000+05:00

Soapy red hands

clean glasses for the wine

rivulets of sweat snake

Slowly down the spine

Damp tendrils plastered on

clammy forehead

Cooking in the kitchen

On a scorching summer day

Custard on the stove

Is waiting to be stirred

Cucumber slices are chilled

ready for the bread

Frosty Mango punch is

What the heart desires

Quiche in the oven

has almost caught fire

Time to get dressed,

Gosh! Is it almost six?

Pink chiffon saree

Ought to do the trick.

Or maybe that sexy

Peek-a-boo dress ?

Pearls studs or dangling

earrings will impress ?

A flick of a brush just

Before you arrive

And a walk thru the mist of

Chanel No five.

Wine is on the ice,

Candles flicker in the breeze.

Heady gardenia intoxicates,

and fairy lights in the trees

Set up by the pool

Is a table for two

Nothing to be done

Except for waiting for you.

Bad poets are people too!

2007-04-24T12:59:00.000+05:00

Please excuse me if I ignore you for a while,
I am not being impolite,
But please indulge me, please understand,
I have a poem to write.

Poems don’t get written easily,
One has to go through an obstacle course
Of rhythm, rhyme, and simile.
And trying to fit the words in a meter by sheer brute force.

Ideas, imagery are alien to me,
One has to think so hard!
I get my inspiration from Rhymezone,
And the verses from a Hallmark card

Please excuse me for a while,
I am almost done with my pome.
If they don’t like it in Writer's Cafe,
Why, there is always ‘Poetry.com’!

For Grandma

2007-02-25T21:19:00.000+05:00

I have now understood,

The meaning of the songs

she crooned to me.

The mumble jumble words,

the touch of her wrinkled hands

on my young cheeks.

The murmurs in the dark,

Filling me with reassurance,

I know their meanings now.

They were the memories

which she had inherited

from her mother,

along with her blood,

And she from hers.

I see her eyes in my mirror,

And her smile

Smiles back at me

Like a blessing.

A shared treasury

of memories, and shared blood

Passed on faithfully.

now my inheritance.

Who do I pass it on to?

With rocks, you never can tell.

2007-02-10T10:38:00.000+05:00

With rocks, you never can tell.

Solid and unobtrusive,
a brooding, hulking presence,
over the horizon.

yet a cold rock may
Hide within itself,
a fire.
On eruption it consumes
All in it’s wake,
leaving behind
devastation and
burnt land.

With rocks, you never can tell.

Sometimes, an angel hides
inside a rock,
Waiting for
a sculptor's probing gaze
to release
his trapped soul.

With rocks, you never can tell.

Valentine's Day ? No Thanks!

2007-02-08T20:23:00.000+05:00

I really don’t fancy you at all

I adore guys, hunky, rich and tall

But what can I do,

I am stuck with you,

You are ‘The bird in hand’ after all.

........................................

An earthworm found

next to him a pretty face

He exclaimed,

“I am smitten, I must confess

Can I make you mine?

Will you be my valentine?”

She thundered- "IDIOT!

I am your other end!”

Memories.

2007-02-04T23:02:00.000+05:00

Summer showers

Carry your fragrance.

I fill my lungs

With your memories.

I have erased you

from my mind

But bodies have

memories too.

Coffee, hot coffee !!!

2007-01-24T09:49:00.000+05:00

[These are a few thoughts on my favorite brew ! So let's take a coffee break.]

Coffee, hot coffee-
with poison fumes,
like a cobra uncoiling
lazily from my cup.

Coffee strong coffee-
not everyone's brew,
it takes a strong heart.

Lukewarm coffee,
sugarless and bitter,
like love gone stale.....

Bile rises in my throat,
Stale smoke in the room
or is it this lukewarm coffee ?

How about getting me a tea?
anything is better
than a lukewarm coffee.

Waiter, bring me a cup of strong coffee,
and don't hand me that menu card.
I do not crave the brazilian blend
Just get me my usual, good ol' 'Kaapee'.

Waiter, bring me a fresh cup of coffee,
No! Do not take away the old cup.
Let me live with the illusion for awhile,
That She was here, the one who didn't show up.

2006-12-25T10:46:00.000+05:00

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
( and a poem by my Fav poet.)

Before its too late
While I'm still sober
No angels, no sleigh bells
None of that clover

In case we're not talking today
Or partying or meeting
A perfectly ordinary
Christmas greeting

Stay well, eat well, drink well
Be of good cheer
A very merry christmas
And a very happy new year

Regards
Rohinton had-too-much-rum-cake Daruwala

Blame it on the martini.

2006-12-24T13:55:00.000+05:00

I just adore a tipsy man.
Not drunk--
just a little fuzzy,
with an easy grin
which hasn't gone foolish.
He stops stomping,
lowers his guard,
and learns to trust.
Spontaneous
and delightfully fragile,
with a dreamy look
and a knowing smile,
A little boy
who plays games
like "Dare!"
A romantic
with surprise hugs
and stolen kisses,
which he can later
blame on the booze.
I just adore a tipsy man.

Haiku ? If you insist.

2006-12-08T08:32:00.000+05:00

Somewhere here, under

the debris of broken dreams,

I have lost a poem.

Raking the rubble,

I accept that some poems

are born to be landfill.

The Isha Effect

2006-10-10T12:59:00.000+05:00

I have a poem

Bursting out of me.

It started as a smile,

Then a giggle,

And then a loud,

Enthralling peal

Of laughter.

A melody without

A tune,

Today

I have become

My poem.

An ode to the Metrosexual Man

2006-08-20T22:18:00.000+05:00

Who or why or what or where
Is this phenomenon,
A Metrosexual man ?

His hair is streaked,
His nails are buffed
His face has a Mediterranean tan.

In the bygone days
When Guy were guys
And girls rejoiced in being girls,

There was no question
Who slept at nights,
With hair trussed in kinky curls.

Pastel pinks,
And minty greens
Real men never ever touched.

Give them denims,
Charcoal or khakis
A pinstriped shirt a fashion “must”.

It sounds boring
I know that there
Should be a fine tuned balance.

But a metrosexual man
is the only one who -
can tell a frill from a valance.

In a lighter vain.

2006-06-11T18:23:00.000+05:00

The Morning Cuppa

Morning time, when prudent women
faced with a hubby, a grump and a demon
Never worry, and with feminine acumen
Just add coffee - An instant Human!!

Phone

Once there was a skeptical man from Yellowstone
Who for a very first time had seen a phone
He listened in amazement
to the shiny black instrument
said "I had heard it can talk, but this is just a drone"!

Rain

Sparrow on the sill,
Sits with a twig in its beak
Rains have come early.

Gray skies heavy with clouds
Muddy crowded streets, noisy with traffic
My plant looks so green.

2006-05-30T16:15:00.000+05:00

Reserve.

It's not about them
but about you
we all know what the truth is

don't administrate but
divide and rule men.
the brits did it then
and you're doing it again.

people will die
but you will thrive
how long do you think
we'll just survive?

brahmins maimed their legs
you've brought crutches for them?
teach them how to fish
but you're buying fish again

the brahmins had convictions in deeds
you're just hiding behind the white suits

if you were a disease you would be
diabetes - silently you kill,
making every sweet poison.

you realise, darwin just turned
in his grave, didn't he?
the fittest just died.

take away someone's limbs
chop and dry the bones
and give them away as crutches
but mind you,
don't give them confidence to walk.

reserve for them a bench
reserve for them a dish
because you're sure they won't eat
they're not really hungry, are they?
eat their share while the hungry die.

it's the end of the day
you want to make sure
the sun rises tomorrow
it's your vote bank you count
and your swiss bank you flaunt

- Hemant Suthar.

Logo designed by Hemant Suthar, commissioned by Vikrant Nath, to be printed on 1000 t-shirts to be distributed among the protesters.

( written to condemn Indian Government's policy of reserving seats for special castes and communities in all universities, and goverment offices. What was introduced fifty years ago as a helping hand to backward communities, is being used today to woo their votes. A game all politicians play all over the world.)

The Unicorn and the Maiden Fair

2006-05-04T07:46:00.000+05:00

In a magical forest, in the faraway land
there lived a fierce,untamed Unicorn.

His mane was the longest, his hooves were the strongest,
a fearless Beast,he was king of the forest

his snort was loud and his eyes had the boldest stare
but the Unicorn longed to be tamed by a maiden fair.

Maidens are a myth,every unicorn knows.
Yet his heart yearned for the wondrous sight

as He galloped the forest in a furious flight,
and The dust clouds dark turned the day into night.

He reached a lake one night, in deep despair.
and his eyes beheld on the lake shore, a Maiden Fair.

The unicorn gazed at the bewitching sight,
a maiden fair,in the silvery light,

with the moon on her face and the sun in her hair
she looked alarmed,and ready for flight.

He stood transfixed and gave a bewildered stare
the unicorn gazed with awe at the vision fair.

"What are you, a phantom? A vision surreal?
A vivid illusion,I do declare.

a dream to torment me through the night,
just to vanish in the misty air.

Go away! Be gone from my sight, O Spectre Fair!
You don’t exist! You can’t! You just aren’t there!

The maiden said "It's you, Who’s a myth,
Inhabiting a universe phantasmagoric

who does not exist outside the realm
of legends, a world that is surrealistic.

I am but a simple maiden, not a being rare,
You I believe have emerged out of thin air.

This world, the universe, and heavens above
Our Kith and kin and bonds of love,

You and I, all are Mere illusions.
Manifestation Of Imagination.

If YOU will believe in my existence, if you care
Then I will believe you exist, said the maiden fair.

Her eyes were kind, Loving and clear,
and slowly he moved nearer and nearer.

She stretched her hand and touched his mane,
murmuring his name again and again.

And embraced him to her heart with a gentle prayer
The Unicorn at last had found his maiden fair.

Friends and assorted animals .

2006-05-03T21:03:00.000+05:00

Billi

Billi is not one of them
Ordinary cats.

She has swish in the tail,
and she stalks them rats.

In the quiet of the night
You can hear her silence.

A fresh trail of blood is
the only visible evidence.

The Rat-pack got rousing mad,
and turned quite bastardly,

They hatched a plan,which was
really really dastardly.

They ranted and puffed their
little ratty chests,

They searched high and low
getting quite desperate,

But couldn’t find a single Rat,
Who could bell the Elusive Cat.

-----------------------------------

Arjun Bali is such a cool dude
He makes his girls take a swim in nude
He soaks them to gills,
From Spring to winter chills
Then packs and sells them as fish food.

Unadulterated ME- without apologies.

2006-04-28T14:25:00.000+05:00

I am a beauty, the whole world knows,

At, at least I do,

That’s enough for me.

Men have fought for my attentions,

At least, that’s

what I like to believe.

A pointy chin,

And a flat big nose,

Easier for sniffing out the news,

A bully, a busybody,

A Ms. Know all,

An insufferable Goody Two shoes.

When people ask me

How Tall I am,

This raises snigger and a laugh,

From toes to head

I measure only

Four feet, eleven and a half,

Interfering, busybody,

Opinions differ,

I would just like to say,

Love me or hate me,

Like me or lump me

Matters not, I am here to stay.

Law has long arms, or Has it ?

2006-04-15T08:33:00.000+05:00

Law has long arms,
so he had always heard
But never knew exactly how long,
till he had erred,

Even breaking the tiniest rule,
He always got caught,
A few times even when not,
because they Thought-

-He had guilt scribbled
all over his face.
And as there is no smoke without a fire,
the guilt must have a base.

Our lawmen aren't taught
that to Err is Human,
Nor are they told that,
it's divine to forgive,

They caught him even when
he held a valid ticket.
For his face kind of looked
suspiciously evasive.

They warned him it was wikkit,
to travel without a tikkit !

When a convict escaped
He was interogated-
-With a nasty gleam in their eyes,
which he truly hated

When a heist was made,
he was promptly nabbed.
Dead, or alive, injured or shot-
to be grabbed.

His photos soon graced
all the police stations walls,
along with all the call centers,
wedding halls, malls and stalls.

After being hounded
for the crimes not committed
He learnt to shun the law,
like a decease transmitted.

He quit his day job
and stayed in the house,
He boarded up the windows
and hid quietly as a mouse,

He stopped going out
for a stroll in the park,
and he took up a new job
at a petrol pump after dark

He stuck on a fake beard
and a moustache too.
And when called by name,
looked straight in the eye and said "who?"

His face soon acquired pallor,
his eyes sunken and red,
He shuffled down the street,
in dark glares and a hat over his head.

He learnt to evade the law,
but it created a situation dire
For there began a whispered campaign
that he indeed was a Vampire.

Be my house.

2006-03-24T19:11:00.000+05:00

If you will be my house,
be my walls.
Stones and bricks.
Surround me.
Keep out the storm.
Be my walls.

If you wish to.
then be my roof,
my shelter, my shade
cover me on a rainy day
at nights show me stars
be my roof.

You really wanna
be my windows?

Wake me with a sunbeam
let in the morning breeze,
Be my eyes, as I see the world
birds chirp on the sill
and trellis up the window frame

Would you rather be my kitchen
and quench my hunger and thirst?
or my bed and couch
where I rest my self?

But you're the electricity
that dazzles my rooms
and powers me up.

Or may be none of that,
just be the rainbow colours
of my walls and drapes
and pots, pans and dishes,
my towel, my wardrobe.

You are welcome to choose
all that you wish to be,
you may be my
complete house instead.
but not my foundation honey,
not really that.

Because you see,
That has to be Me.

Walls are shaken in quakes
roofs blown off in storms
windows rust and colours fade,
kitchens fall apart,
But a house may still stand.

But if my foundation walks away
where will I live?

Wishes on my Birthday

2006-03-13T18:52:00.000+05:00

Wishes on my Birthday from friend Raamesh.

To the walker of dogs
and hawker of art,
the baker of cakes
and maker of candles,
the spreader of cheer,
the forger of happiness,
to the odd job woman,
the dragon of glee,
the caterpillar of hope:
I wish you
a harvest of stars
a spring of flowers.

Happy Birthday Suniti.

-----------------------

Thank you Raamesh :)

I Just can't.......

2006-01-08T19:49:00.000+05:00

I can accept her presence in our life.
I can accept you still remembering her.
I can accept her coming first in your regard.
I can accept you dressing me in her colors,
I can accept living a life that should have been hers.
But I can’t ever accept you giving your violin HER name……

Beautiful People.- Parody

2005-12-02T17:22:00.000+05:00

Writer-
Manisha Lakhe.

This piece from Caferati Blog,

http://caferati.blogspot.com/2005/10/sky-people.html

-----------------------------------

With due apologies, I am twisting around a breathtakingly wonderful poem :)

Beautiful People.

I used to look like you
people working from 9 till 5
scared
of missing their trains,
Your middle class apperance
was distasteful to me.

You cringed ,
when I passed by,
afraid to catch a whiff
of the stale mogra
as our paths crossed.

But I've been touched
by the magical brush of
the makeover man
and I guess most of you
who now cross my path
just gape at me in awe.

You saw me run for the train,
twist my ankle and trip,
You rolled your eyes,
and carried on with you life.

You spotted me,
at market place or
at crowded coffee shops,
never spared another glance

You did not see me at all!
All you saw was
another plain Ben,
crowding the city Malls.

You bumped into me
at the bookshop,
you moved away
a patronizing smile later,
thinking I smell of chameli oil.

You don’t know, but
Now I smell of snow lillies,
and the elusive smell of
imported musk..

I am sorry, but I avoid
the non a/c halls.
and the out door events, you see.

Would I really allow
the sun and the wind
to rough up my body?

The stars in my eyes
are purest swarowski,
And my heart has
room only for one,

For I have been touched
by the magical brush
of the makeover man.

The Dragon and The Caterpillar.

2005-11-13T15:53:00.001+05:00

What a lovely day it is
The Caterpillar thought
As she climbed down from the tree

What’s that shiny thing over there
May be I should
Go in the meadow and see

She scurried down
On her hundred little toes
And reached
A shiny green mountain was it ?

It seemed like a creature,
And It definitely moved…
She climbed up and shouted –
as politely as she could-

‘EXCUSE ME !!
WHAT ARE YOU ?’
PRAY TELL ME, IF YOU WOULD !!

The Dragon was shaken
out of his reveries
And cautiously opened one eye
And then both

And stared .. astonished
At Something very small
sitting on the tip of his nose !!

And Demanding to know Who HE was !
He had never in his life seen
anything so small

The Dragon, a polite and peaceful guy
Who liked nothing better than
Dozing in the sun and
Blowing smoke rings
through his nose,

He searched his brain for a suitable reply
‘I am a Dragon.. I think
..at least
That’s what I have been told !!

Now if you don’t mind-
Pray tell me what YOU are,
If I may be so bold ?

The Caterpillar pondered
Confused and replied ,
I am green, I am shiny..
I think I am a Dragon too,

A little Dragon now, I know,
But I’ll grow up
And become a BIG Dragon
With wings and smoke-
Just like you.

The dragon cocked his head
trying to take a good look
From side to side.

She didn’t look like any dragon
He had ever seen
Little or otherwise,

But he was a polite and peaceful guy
Who liked nothing better than
dozing in the sun
Blowing smoke rings
through his nose.

So He decided to hold his peace,
and nodded
Almost dislodging poor Caterpillar
from her perch.

There sprang between them
a beautiful friendship.
They told each other
the forest gossip.

The Dragon loved to hear
The secrets of the forest
And The Caterpillar loved to watch
the fire and smoke.

Every now and then she tried to blow,
A few rings of her own !

Together they planned
to roam the far lands

And one day caterpillar
Went home to sleep...Yawn !!

The Dragon, Not quite understanding
Where his friend has gone.
He waited in the meadow,
Patient, but forlorn.

She woke with a start,
Was it hours ? was it days ?
Poor Dragon must be waiting !

She rushed down the tree
On her hundred little.. toes ??
Where were her toes ?
What were these
Long black spindly things ?!
She couldn’t climb down
and clumsily lost her footing

and
down
and down
she fell,
with wind
rushing
past her
as she fell
on
the ground…..

....and bright wings
unfurled themselves
and she floated !!!

She had WINGS !
Bright Yellow
with red dots on,
Now she too was a Dragon !

She flew to him Happily
And shouted “Hey! Look at Me !!"

The Dragon looked
at the little patch of color
Dancing in the air joyously

His little friend was Back !
And just LOOK at her !!
He watched entranced.
the Butterfly’s dance.

The Caterpillar-now a Butterfly
On her favorite perch she sat,
Now that she too had wings,
It was time to start.

They traveled the far
and Unknown lands
experiencing the world anew.

That she wasn’t a dragon,
The Butterfly never ever knew,

And the Dragon? He kept his peace
A big truth he had seen
Outside we may be different kinds,
But we're all Dragons within.

These Haikus are Uncyclopedia!

2005-10-20T22:35:00.000+05:00

An exercise posted on caferati by Billi.

1. Poured out my heart
in a chat and he said,sorry- DC.
what were you saying?

2. High walls
keeps enemy out
what about friends?

3. One smile can kill.
One touch can resurrect.
What is life and what is death?

Silence

2005-07-11T23:20:00.000+05:00

Suspended
between the words
hangs silence
I crave.

Tell me how....

2005-07-10T09:05:00.000+05:00

Something wonderful happened when I posted this poem on a writer's network. It inspired many more.
I would like to present them together as it can be seen as a wonderful dialogue between sexes.

1.

What does one do
with a man..
Who listens to sounds
beyond the sounds.
Whose eyes see
visions which no one can?

How does one woo
A man
Who like an oyster
from the alien seas …
listens to Far away tides?

How to make him stay..forever-
if such a thing exists…

This elusive, subtle,
indescribable,
shadowy, enigmatic,
mystifying man !

Tell me HOW
it can be done…..

Suniti.

----------------------------

2.

Never knew you'd take a look,
else I'd never have kept my book
open for your eyes to read
and trumpet evidence of your deed!

JJ.

---------------------------

3.

A Vagabond heart
He's never yours to hold onto.
Its the freedom, the unfettered existence
Which makes him what he is within.
He could never be made to stay
But would perhaps stay if allowed to go.
A Spirit, as restless as a hurrying creek
Cannot be stilled into a silent lake.
You could perhaps be the bank
To run with him till eternity
Or perhaps be a little leaf
And let him take you on his journey
Who knows what mysteries you will unfold
Who knows what magic he will show you
The Vagabond heart
He could be yours forever....

-Sujaya Narahari.

----------------------------------
4.

Why you have to be so possesive
and yearn to take away my freedom?
I am a free bird,
your world is my kingdom!

Seeker, seeker
seek something else.
Love, that is not binding,
will get plenty, not any less.

I am generous
don't need to woo me
you already have me
just open your eyes and see!

-Musten Jiruwala.

-------------------------------

5.

Oh but I know not that my heart be vagabond,
for my heart forever has sought rest.
Seeker I may be, but that helps seeks out
the wonder in each passing moment,
however to be a Seer is a tall claim
I can’t myself make.
There are fleeting glimpses of floating memories
and ephemeral visions when times linearity dilates...
but each of us has our own perspective,
so spokesperson I can hardly, for myself, claim.
Thus for myself I speak, a seeker only seeks the truth...
for truth has a fragrance that all can share.
And when you know that
the fragrance forever and everywhere abounds,
then what's there to keep?
What’s there to get?

-Avi Das.

-----------------------------------
6.

Some people are like travellers
Some people are like the tree
Either way, different sights,
both of them get to see

Be strong and steady like the tree
Stand tall, but offer your shade
When he returns, weary and worn,
his shoes he might gladly trade,

for a familiar spot at your feet,
for a patch of grass to lie on
And if he does not tread that path
let bygones be bygones.

-Anitha Murthy.

----------------------------------

I Love You Mumbai

2005-07-02T19:30:00.000+05:00

Mumbai,

Throbbing in my veins

like never ending

pound of the trains...

Street names

keep changing

So do the attitudes.

Sweaty Strange faces

of multitudes.

Dirty, stinky,

muggy city

with an invisible shore,

Used, abused by

People she succors,

My SWEET Mumbai-

Every man’s whore.

Summer.-A Collage

2005-07-02T18:17:00.000+05:00

Temperature soars
And mercury sizzles

Every one longs for
Unexpected drizzles

Every one is sweaty
Every one is tanned.

Every one is drinking
juices fresh or canned.

Some lucky souls
Go camping in the hills

Summer is the time
For soaring power bills.

Going for a flick
In cool movie halls

Strolling on the beach
Eating Ice Gola balls.

Dancing in the sprinklers,
Or splashing in the pool

Anything at all
To stay a little cool.

White cotton skirts
Billow in the breeze

Wide brimmed hat
On a picture pretty Ms..

Pale Pastel hues of
Green and blue and pink.

Watermelon juice,
With a garnish of mint !!

Barefoot in the park
carefree and gay

Doze in the shade and
Dream away the day

Slumber.

2005-07-02T18:14:00.000+05:00

Like a Mother
turning in her sleep,
gently
casually -
The Earth turned.

Unmindful
of her child's existance,
Lost in her
Sweet slumber.

Lives are lost,
Homes destroyed
Dreams shattered,

The Mother sleeps on
Unaware, undisturbed.

The Ring

2005-07-02T18:08:00.000+05:00

I am fascinated by old desks, they always have a story to tell. Here is one such.
----------------------

The Ring.

Clearing his Father’s desk ,
He found an ancient ring.

Encased in a small wooden box,
Stuck behind the paneling

Father wasn’t there any more,
He felt lost and bereft.

This ring was found among
The Papers that were left.

The metal was tarnished and black
It looked cheap and old-

Was it silver- copper or brass?
No- definitely not Gold.

He took it near the window
And examined its shine,

A mere trinket it was for sure,
But with intriguing design.

As he looked at it more closely
Through a magnifying glass

He found the faint inscription-
‘This Too Shall Pass.'

The words echoed inside him.
Filling the emptiness within

He had heard his father often say
the very same words to him,

The air was strangely still
As he felt a presense intense...

Was He here ? consoling him
Through the impossible distance?

He thought he heard a faint murmur
of his father's gentle tones

His fingers tightly gripped the ring,
and he knew he wasn't alone.

A Job Application

2005-07-02T18:05:00.000+05:00

(a resume in 100 words).

I am An
Odd Job Woman.
No Job is
too odd for me.

Your Dog needs
to be walked ?

Your art needs
to be hawked ?

your cellar needs
to be stocked ?

I am the one.

I'm a great gardener,
a chef and a baker,
and also a great
candlestick maker !

Do you want to copy
fine miniatures ?

I can also
*Whisper*
cleverly
forge signatures !!

So-
Don't go by
my looks,
I will never
win any crown !!

I am-after all

THE ODDEST
THE BESTEST

Odd Job woman
in Town.