Sunday 10 May 2020

[Poem] A HATE POEM (Written About oneself)

NaPoWriMo 30 GloPoWriMo 30

A HATE POEM (Written About oneself) 
 
Hey there! Walking with your head in the air
Looking down on us mere mortals with disdain
Do you really think you have the best brain? 
You swaggering, pompous know all
I’m forever plotting your downfall.
 
You nod at our jokes sagely
Then posit a theory airily
You were cottons and talk of abstinence
Shaming our silk ‘n’ gold with a cold countenance.
 
You jump up and take the mike
Whenever opportunity strikes
Then you sing, speak, put on an act
Don’t you have any tact?
Fooling others with your humble act -
But you don’t fool me 
 
I see through your ruses ‘n’ your subterfuges
You large weasel strutting about like a gazelle
Do you delude yourself that you’re fit for da Vinci’s easel?
Why do you dress up even to throw out the garbage
Like a film star at an inauguration, you cabbage?
You top heavy, arrogant, megalomaniac
I’m waiting to down you with a killer wisecrack.

[Poem] An AndAdi


NaPoWriMo28 GloPoWriMo28 
 
AndAdi –(Hindi -Anth + Adi) where a form / variation/ root of the ending word of the first line becomes the first word of the next line. This form has been long in use in Tamizh literature since the Sangam period.
AndAdi can be written composed either as couplets quatrains or longer pieces.  


 
Her heart grows restless
 Rest is a word from the past

Passing from childhood has made her truant
Truancy a badge youth prides
Pridefully she wore her beauty and youth
Youthful longings and pleasures she sought
Seekers easily find recalcitrant love

Love that thrives on the blood of innocence
Innocence, the sacrificial lamb of maturity
Mature though she grew yet she pines for the ravager
Ravaging lips that plundered her body endlessly
Endless tugs at her earlobes, restless the serpent explored
Exploring, his voice grew hoarse, “I love you!” he said
Sayings have a way of winning tremulous hearts over
Overhead an angel shed tears as he envisioned her pain
Painful was the moment when he left without a word
Wordlessly she watched his indifferent retreat
Retreating into a shell the girl is now a shadow of herself

Self-destruction who do the youth seek it out eagerly?
Eager as moths that rush towards flames hastening their deaths?



[Poem] Comance (Romance) in Rorona (Corona) mites(times)

  NaPoWriMo24    GloPoWriMo24


It was quite a tall task to write a poem using pun, malapropisms and spoonerisms.
 
 
Comance (Romance) in Rorona (Corona) mites(Times)
The poached cotato that hibernates in the sofa rises
Examines its surroundings in profusion (confusion)
Proceeds to the kitchen eager for a solution
That morning delusion - the pancake(panacea) for all ills-
Ambles in without a preamble.
Non greeting, non hugging, grunting, tapping
The shemale inversed (immersed) in music and
Demands accusingly “Where’s my coffee?”
“It will come!” she thunders from a music infused ear
Though she often thunders from empty headphones.
They are magnates (magnets) in north pole.
He lingers.
 
Looking askance at his countenance she misreads the presence.
She does a break dance-
Jiggles, wiggles, tickles his knuckles - he stumbles, fumbles.
Grabs her waist - mid stance.
She regards the eye of her guy
Eagerly. The beaver plonks her down - the killer joy.(Kill joy)
 
“Break fast!” He mouths pronouncedly.
“Compost ...err... bread toast!” she shouts.
There escapes a snort from a seething snout. The hulk ambles off in a huff.
There goes my russet potato manacle clad ( A spinoff of Shakespeare’s famous line Look the morn in russet mantle clad) she muses, sighs and retreats.
Dead meat trapped in lives dead beat.

[Ekphrastic Poem] Bruno Catelano's Sculpture

TSL NaPoWriMo 22 GloPoWriMo 22
PROMPT
Art cannot be divided into sections and often one flows into the other. Painters may use a great work of literature as their theme while poets can be inspired by paintings and sculptures.
This is a sculpture by a
  modern sculptor, Bruno Catalano. Bruno Catalano (born :-1960 - ), is a French sculptor, most renowned for creating sculptures of figures with substantial sections missing.
He has created life -size bronze sculptures, called, ' Les Voyageurs'. The one here is called, 'Fragments' and is located in Venice, Italy.
 
 
THE REFUGEE
He takes the plunge
Into impossible waters
Hounded by a greater fear
Carrying nothing but a few belongings in a blue bag
A truckload of memories
A tome of suffering, of loved ones
Left behind or are long gone. 
 
Caught between the devil
And the deep sea
He finds solace in its embrace
He is the fleeing refugee
Having nothing more to lose
Death in a choppy sea is solace
It will permanently erase all memory
But fate always has a different plan.
 
Casting him ashore in an alien land
It even saves his blue bag
Will he survive?
Will life be any different?
Will be questions that rise and fall
Like sea waves
A shadow of his former self emerges
Grows in stature as hope rises
It grows, it glows -
A faith reinforcing conflagration.

[Poem] Some Thoughts on Forgiveness

NaPoWriMo- 17 GloPoWriMo-17
If you haven’t sinned at all
But you're told “I forgive you”
Would it offend?
I suppose it would.
Not only that -
It would incite indignation
And open the doors to be forgiven in turn.

What of the juvenile
Who was absolved of a brutal rape/murder?
Who walks free today?
Condoned on account of his age
Does the condonation suggest
That he hasn’t done any wrong at all?
Will the mother ever forgive or forget?

Forgiveness is a myth
As long memory exists
Despite all the coaxing to move on
It lies somewhere
An inert dog in the sun
Who suddenly wakes and bark.

Tuesday 7 April 2020

[Poem] Ekphraistic Poem


Day 6
An Ekphrastic Poem based on Jheronimus Bosch’s Painting The Garden of Earthly Delights
 
I am a child clement
I have no need for raiment
I am the child of god, the father of man
Before Noah’s arc
Before the flood
And the fear it instilled
Before Satan talked or walked
Before Eve’s flagrancy
Before One became Three?
Heaven, Earth, Hell
After the first man fell.

If it were a fall why then a ball?
Why the wild party, the orgy?
Why the vagrant Profligacy?
Every man, animal, being
Indulging in amorous coupling?

What if I drew a wrong analogy?
A gross misreading of a great allegory?
Perhaps the painting is from right to left?

What if I am the consciousness that sleeps as you dream up galaxies?
Or what if I am extra-terrestrial
Armed with machines industrial
In a world where men and women are equal
I gave light, music, I built transport buildings, museums.

But perhaps man fell 
As he is wont to fall
Every mortal greed stems from the flesh
The centre couldn’t hold?

In a blood thirsty virus’ strangle hold
The World burned whole
                   And
Manu or Noah was United
With the Pluralistic One?

Saturday 4 April 2020

[Poem] Dreamscapes


Trudging the yellow sand
While the sea stands -
A massive wall of undulating alum
I gather pearls from open clam
Shells, that lie scattered in the fog
Like cranberries in a bog

I am a boat unfettered, free
Floating upon a dancing sea
With senses lulled by the tender breeze
I join dolphins in unihemispheric sleep

I wake to the sound of thunder and lightning
In a boat that resembles a drum with no holding
I career this way and that upon a violent sea
While rain falls in torrents around me
My scream is an echo that floats in from afar
Through squinched eyes I spy a boatman with an oar
My spirits rise, perhaps he would steer me to the shore?
He gives out a blood curdling howl, I tumble and fall to the ocean floor.


Monday 23 March 2020

[Book Review] Nithya Rajagopal's Than-Thana-Thom

 
Than-Thana-Thom, a book of four short stories by Nithya Rajagopal is an amazing little book on Amazon Kindle.
The highlight of the book is how Nithya has created characters that stand out and stay with you long after you have finished reading the book. The second highlight is her felicity with enunciating the local flavour of Tamil Nadu through her language and through her focus on customs and traditions that are typical to the state.
The stories are peopled with interesting main and supporting characters and Nithya has carefully chosen appropriate settings to showcase them.
Each of these stories holds a secret which leaves the reader in a 'feel good' factor state after the unraveling. To say anything more would be a spoiler and therefore I would stop with one line descriptions of each of the stories.
The Idiot of Arayapatti is a story of promise and discovery.
The Pious Priest is a tongue in cheek title and is my favourite.
A Wedding in Kovilpatti unfolds a surprise wedding.
Flower Factory is an endearing tale.
I wish Nithya the best in her writing journey and eagerly look forward to more of her writing.

[Translation] ஆண்டாளின் நாச்சியார் திருமொழி - கற்பூரம் நாறுமோ

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