Archive for December, 2017


for women everywhere







for women everywhere …




they said she was opinionated.



they castigated her for not following the norm.



they dismissed her for being “loud-mouthed”.



they spoke disparagingly of her for flouting cultural, religious, sectarian narrow-minded claptrap.



they damned her for unclipping her wings, as she soared free into the open skies.



she is you.



and may you always be you …




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serenading the glistening rose,


a solitary tear of dew,


falls.



caressed by the lilting of rustling leaves,


enveloping dawn,


to gentle birdcalls …






new year kisses











tangerine kisses,


beneath marshmallow skies,

ignite the kindling, the tinder,

crackling, inflamed, ablaze,


hushing cacophonous day, scattering night’s haze …










the swaying of the grass, as another year flees …

 


1.


 


a path leads,

to where wild grasses grow,

sashaying in the summer breeze.


 


2.


 


along the path,

lightness settles within,

feeling the grass,

swooning,

tickling ankles,

swaying to lilting bird-song,

a dance of intimate abandon,

brushing remnants of pain away.


 


3.


 


melodies float across fields of green,

delicately caressing my heart,

teasing emptiness to flee,

comforting the mind,

to silently be.


 


4.


 


walking on,

savouring the peace,

a momentary respite,

casting off burdens of the now,

all is quiet,

a stillness cradling fractured emotions,

the grass in the fields sway,

dusk descends,

shadows lengthen,


nudging dimming light to take leave of the day … … …







a wish for you










a wish for you … …




May your smile never fade,

may you always be as you are now,


warm and kind,


true and filled with the generosity of spirit that defines you,


may your dreams soar into the boundless open skies,


and may the benevolent fingertips of time and of fate,


brush away any tears that should fall from your gentlest eyes.





May you forever stand tall,

may your head always be held high,


with stoic dignity.


May your past experiences be the stepping-stones that mark your path ahead,


may your heart be your guide,


your blazing beacon of wildly enthusiastic hope,


may your wishes be simple,

and may they come to be,


filling your life and your moments,


with joyous bliss,


where you truly feel free.





Free of the weight of yesterday,

free of gnawing doubt,


and may your being be infused,

with the softest serendipity,


so that you may spread your arms,


and to the heavens shout,


I am free,


I am me,


at long last,

I am standing tall,

never again to bow,

or to fall on bended knee.





This is a wish both simple yet elusive,


a wish that only you can make true,


by simply being,


the kind,

warm,


gentle person,

that is you …















she is my all,

picking me up whenever I fall,


walking beside me, fierce and tall,


unafraid pain may yet befall.



my all, my strident constant, breathing away aches in an instant.



she is my all.


she is all.






Vincent and Ludwig











Vincent and Ludwig …





“Do you know, my dear Ludwig, that I’ve sold just one of my paintings?”


“Yes, Vincent, do not despair, my friend, they cannot, will not, fathom the flower that reveals its petals before their eyes”


“I suppose you are right, old friend. They cannot, will not, hear your ‘Ode to Joy’, though it is you who are deaf!”


“But my dear Vincent, you do hear my ‘Ode to Joy’, deep in your soul”


“Yes, I hear it, I feel it, Ludwig, flowing like liquid paint through the canvas of my veins”


“My dear Vincent, I too feel your brush-strokes, and in each swirl of colour I hear your joy, and I can touch your pain”


“What does that make us, my friend? Two men cast adrift on the bluest seas, leaving nothing behind, yet heading nowhere. What does that make us then?”, asks Vincent.


“Human”, replies Ludwig, smiling.


“Human, yes, dear Ludwig”.


“And that is enough”, says Ludwig, almost to himself.


“It is enough”, smiles Vincent.


“To be human. It is enough.”




Vincent laughs, as Ludwig watches a gentle wave caress their toes, through their tattered shoes.






My Christmas bipolar Haze









My Christmas bipolar Haze … …





watching the stars fall,

ablaze,

scorching these nights,

the manic days,


and,


yet she remains,

a constant,

a bulwark,

an anchor,


in my bipolar haze …








( merry Christmas to all )
















lying together,


enveloped in each others arms,


we swore oaths to the stars and the years yet to unfold,


lying together …





years of war











as another year flees, soaked scarlet by war, choked by the famished cries of the baby, torn by the screeching of hate, adulterated by the politics of intolerance, bruised by gender-based violence, shaming humanity by female genital mutilation, ripping our souls out by wanton greed, trashing our world with mountains of waste, scarring our planet with the oblivious ignorance of climate change, hacking us, binding us with the knots of intolerable pain,


and so, may the coming year be less violent, and more equitable to all.


idealistic claptrap? yes, I know, I know …


but at times like these hope is all that I know I  know …









alone, i swim




alone, I swim, thrashed by the tides, while high above me a solitary albatross glides.


alone no more, soothing me to my very core,


i hope for days and nights far more placid than those that have passed before …





the rose and the dew










the rose and the dew …



soothing dew of the dawn, teases the rose in the mist of new morn,


nourishing the rose, encased in a dewy sheath, drops of soothing dew tease tendrils of each leaf,


soothing flowers, the dew banishes the night, in soft hues of exquisite early light:


you are the dew to my solitary leaf, seducing my soul with loving belief,


and I, I revel in the balm of your solace, shunning the pain of this world, with welcome relief … … …













bidding another year adieu …




and when i see,

breathe her, her softness a whisper away,


she knows the ache, i fear,

of wanting,

needing perhaps,

the feeling of feeling dear,


not much, 

soothing warmth,

enveloped,


our warmth, a light autumn shawl,


her fingers, mine,

tracing sketches, scribbles,

our waltzing fingers entwined,


shedding this year that wasn’t, or hardly was at all,


like so, so many yesteryears,


now long passed,


quietly, threading catacombs crumbling into dust,


gently, reverently, 

laying it down, leaving it all far, far behind,


a few shared moments,

of gentleness, warmth, solace,


of pure, innocent, delicious, alluring promise of bliss,


so rare, 

            priceless, almost,

            

            almost,

            too rare to find …







a new year beckons













a new year beckons, thus a scribble on treading onwards …





we have been hurt,

battered by time,

by fate,


we have been stung,

by harsh tongues wagging,


words,

            words,

                        hollow,

  meaningless,

                         harsh tirades borne, colder words, mere words,

            spoken,


meant to jab,

                       prod,

ceaseless,

                 until spirits are torn,

                 and,

                        broken …




… still,

           we endure,


    still,

           we hope,


for,

      we may be lashed against fates’ ropes,


    still,

           we endure,


we cling on,

                     to dreams,

                     and to shared hopes,


for,


we shall rise, staggering perhaps,


                but standing,

                never kneeling,


however painful,

                             sorrowful,


times may be,



for we shall stand,


if,

   if,


you are with each other,

offering each other,


that helpful, comforting hand … …








new year











on repetition: new years day …






the years have chased,

cajoled,

time has a-rambled & a-rolled, 

just another year,

where loves’ wares,


love, the commodity,

and us, all of us,

mere commodities,

traded as futures,


hastily stitching gaping wounds, with superficially strong sutures,


add some smiles bought and sold,

dignity bartered,

amalgamated, merged, lost & battered,


thin skins moulting,

spawning breathing thicker skins,


just another year,

same dreams to be shattered,


no bleating hip-hip-hoorays,

just the ever-fixed smile,


bright teeth bared as hands morph into machetes, hacking,

gleefully as the beast slays,


and while some burn, the fireworks elicit oohs, many an aah,


with kafka in the shadows, shaking his head,

this is farce gone too far,


to dampen the collective hope,


not more crumbled platitudes,

meant only to soothe, to apply the balm, to help the other half cope,


with what,


just another year,

reborn, the umbilical cord cut,


just another year,

working, eating, buying, buying,


as we scamper ever on,

with our eyes sewn tightly shut





won’t you ?








won’t you … ?


allow me to take your hand in mine, fingers kneading, knotted, wrinkled, from teasing out too many a paltry rhyme, somewhat scarred from the scraping of passing time.


we may walk a while, distilling the essence of love, far away from this time, hand in hand, epochs away from the polythene grandstand.


we have seen so much, seen it all it sometimes feels, holding on to sanity, just barely grasping onto a filament of hope, when all seemed bleak, when life splintered and felt far too much to cope.


won’t you let me take your hand in mine, far beyond mere words, long past mouthed vows, sharing the silence of weary travellers, who may have seen so much before, and yet persist, hoping, always hoping for a kernel of substance at the core.


won’t you take my hand in yours, it’s yours to take and to hold, away from this bazaar where feelings are traded as commodities, bargained over, casually bought, and callously sold.


we shall share pristine moments, shutting out the passing parade, fleeing from the boulevards of excess, as far away from the fickle charade.


won’t you take my hand in yours, allowing me to take yours in mine, knowing the pathway may be littered with nettles, and knowing this too, that we will always have each other, when the storms pass, when the dust settles.


won’t you ?












misty tears fall on splintered parchment


history simmers


the shackles of centuries cast off


the chains of oppression shattered


embracing new horizons


dawning

and

trusting once again

in that unfinished dream


of less famished tomorrows …













breaths drawn,

echo across fields of green …


a plaintive song,

teasing the grass,


paths once walked,

hand in hand,


now burning highways,

of cold stone, dead concrete,


yearning for bygone days,


walking, together,

on your jacaranda carpeted street …







i lost my way









i lost my way, on avenues of promise, 


i built walls, on fragile grounds of loss,


you reached in, picking me up, as I lay strewn amidst the detritus,


you turned to me, and i to you,


fortifying our core, us together,


and,


that is the talisman that keeps on keeping us true …








why him ?





why, they ask her,

why him?



she always says the

day we met,


and spoke.


and laughed.



she felt,

all she needed to be


was herself 



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