LaMuse

A Birthday.

2010-10-15T23:09:00.000+05:30

Beaten and battered.

Passed through fire.

The goodness of Life

Sandwiched between.

Holding aloft

The promise of

A bright tomorrow.

What is a Birthday ….

But a piece of cake ?

The Knock

2010-10-03T22:26:00.000+05:30

कल दिल के धड़कन ने दस्तक दी I

तुम्हारे बदन की सोंधी खुशबू

हँसीके एक झोंके पर सवार,

मन के झरोखे में से आकर,

कुछ सोयी यादें जगा गयी I

कल दिल के धड़कन ने दस्तक दी I

वर्ना जबसे सपने भी

इन फूलों के रंग लिये फरार हुए,

इस वीरान खंडहर में

आसकी बूँद की टपक भी

कहीं गूंजती नहीं I

My Muse

2010-09-26T17:29:00.000+05:30

On the cool monsoon breeze

You drifted in to caress my cheek.

Then gently floating down to rest

By my unaware palm. While I

Too busy and very engrossed

Continued with an oblivious fervor.

So there you lay

Patient and indulgent.

Waiting for Imagination to awaken

And take us on that flight of fancy.

A thought in the passing

2010-06-12T15:57:00.000+05:30

A thought fluttered past.

Riding the gentle breeze

That drifted down Memory Lane.

Brown with age

Its well thumbed edges curled and torn.

Its fragile veins still showing the beauty

Of Love that once flowed through it.

There was new life at the crossroads

Where ambitions and desires went their separate ways.

A decision taken .

Feet that once walked together

Now danced to different drummers .

A thought fluttered past.

Away on the gentle breeze

That drifted to the end of Memory Lane.

Tears....

2010-06-01T18:32:00.000+05:30

Gathering her Hopes , her dreams of Tomorrow
She wrapped them in his legacy of Sorrow.
And then in the still of the night
With hurried steps , she took flight.
Not a trace of her did they find
Except for the sparkle of tears left behind.

TRAGEDY

2010-05-26T12:42:00.000+05:30

We stopped at Lockerbie on our drive from Manchester to Edinburgh . Here , we visited "The Garden of Remembrance" at the local cemetery , built to commemorate the victims of the Pan Am disaster of 21st December 1988.

The picture below is of an angel on a tombstone erected many years , in fact decades, before the disaster . But it felt as if the angel was still in prayer for those who died in the crash .

We spent a quiet few moments in remembrance while a row of cherry blossoms carpeted the grounds with their petals.

TRAGEDY

An angel stood
Fearful and petrified.
As bits of shattered dreams then gently
Drifted aimlessly, on wings that had broken presently.

An angel stood
Sorrowful and helpless.
As icy December winds could not put out the flames
That roared alive as misguided men ..played their merciless games.

An angel stood
Quiet and sad.
As charred ashes ....returned to Earth
Bringing to an abrupt end ..a journey begun at birth.

An angel stood
Silent and in prayer .
For unlucky souls ..that Peace they find
And Strength ... for those they had left behind.

An angel stood
Watchful and tireless.
As the cherry blossoms ...for decades and years
Profuse in a delicate pink ..wept copious and silent tears.

Pipe Dreams .... A Sedoka

2010-03-25T15:36:00.000+05:30

Rusty and discarded they lie
Where once they glistened with Ambitious Hope
Bound by gossamer webs of the Past.
Shells that no longer hold
The gushing force of raison d’être
Now forgotten and old ..someone's pipe dreams.

RAVAGED

2010-03-11T21:41:00.000+05:30

She

bloomed sure and eager

sunkissed and confident, brimming with

tender lofty dreams of Tomorrow .

watched dark and lecherous

arrogant and conceited , unmindful of her

tender lofty dreams of Tomorrow .

She

stood ravaged and devastated

riddled and torn , rot curling edges of her

tender lofty dreams of Tomorrow .

forgot and moved on

Oblivious and uncaring , as withered petals of her

tender lofty dreams of Tomorrow .

The Path

2010-02-24T16:23:00.000+05:30

Checkered experiences
Build a path towards tomorrow.
Gentle shadows of memories
Create a respite from the scorching harshness.
Streaks of Joy bring in
Brightness to show us the way ahead
Lumbering footsteps
Change pace to a quick step.
A renewed desire surges
Bringing us even closer .
The blurred horizon at the yonder
Seems a little more defined .
Then the path takes another turn
And Life just goes on right ahead …

Passion

2010-02-15T01:12:00.000+05:30

The door
Stood slightly ajar.
In an attempt to shield from prying eyes.

The chiffon
Peeked from round the corner.
Shyly blushing a deeper pink.

The trouser
Had followed boldly,
And now lay in a crumpled heap.

The entwined fingers
Snuggled deep into the
Gently heaving navel.

The lips rested
On the back of the nape.
Rhythmic breath whistling of dreams.

The voile curtains
Swayed ecstatic in the breeze
Billowing in the wafting emotions.

The errant sunbeam crept in
Surreptitiously to deepen
The flush on the glowing, moist skin.

The night of the storm had passed.

THE JOURNEY.

2010-01-17T15:36:00.002+05:30

Frail, tired, withered and old .....

Resting on a limb

He reached out

For a moment to hold

A vague memory of

Youthful glory

Still lingering in

The faded wrinkles.

Then letting go

With quiet resignation

He continued with gravity

Till he was one

With

From whence he had sprung.

Colored Pains

2010-01-12T13:32:00.005+05:30

The warmth of the setting sun
Slipped in through the glass
Of the doorway of the past .
To rock his chair a little gently
Setting in motion his dalliance
With the colorful shadows of Memories.

Green.
The firmness of grapes
Ripening a little
Juicy but tart.
Her favorite fruit.

Yellow.
A burst of Summer
Tinting the gossamer wings
Of flitting butterflies.
The glow on her joyous face.

Blue .
A meandering river
Reflecting the clear skies
With pleats of clouds.
The six yards of her sari.

White.
Brilliant and lethal.
Dazzling beams of
An errant headlight.
Her pallid face drained with fear.

Red.
A traditional dot.
Marking her love
For him eternally.
Washed away by the growing trickle. ...............

The rhythm of the chair
Came to a standstill
As the colors seeped out
From under the doorway
Along with the setting sun.

A SAGA

2009-08-09T19:44:00.001+05:30

Her ethereal beauty, a parallel unseen
She was dressed in a leafy green.
With her smile bloomed a thousand flowers
Her scented breath every being overpowers.
Her flowing tresses mirrored the blue skies
Bringing forth a murmur of sighs.
So smitten was he by her beauty
He honoured their marriage as a solemn duty.

The early days were so full of care and love
It seemed like the gods were smiling from above.
He gave back as much, of the love he got.
Attentive to each other’s needs, rarely they fought.
She gave him fruit of her labour and quenched his thirst
And he made sure that what he took, he replenished first.
They showed and expressed their love in a thousand ways
But so short lived were those wonderful honeymoon days .

But soon a subtle change came about him
Becoming self-centred and he was moody on a whim.
He ravaged her heart and called it “mine”
He drew power from her tresses and thought himself Divine.
He destroyed her beautiful leafy green veil.
Leaving her protective blue, with a riddled trail.
To the very beauty that had enamoured him so
He now lay to waste every bit, blow by blow.

Her broken heart quaked in tremulous pain
Her anguished wails raised a tempest again.
The oceans rose with her tears of sadness
Saline rebellion at his unbelievable madness
Her once scented breath, now polluted and grey
Hung low and suffocating , taking his away !
Her veil now torn and cast asunder
Scorched his lands and him for his blunder .

To keep alive he wrestled in vain
Gasping for water and craving for grain.
What was once so green now lay all yellow
Stretches of barren arid and fallow.
Unmoved by him or even the bird or the bee
She turned a deaf ear to their impassioned plea.
Hell has no fury like a woman scorned
She raved and ranted while the whole world mourned.
If only he could assuage and cool her down
If only he could smooth the wrinkles of her frown.
If only he could undo the harm of before
If only he could her calm restore.
If only he could quieten her whimpers of gloom
If only he could prevent his own doom.
If only he could beloved Nature remind
If only he could be a genuine Man Kind.
If only he could ..
If only we could.....
If only we would .................

Its a long one I agree .... but so is our relationship with Nature/ Environment.
Let's find a way to get back our harmony.

The Raindrop.

2009-07-16T12:29:00.002+05:30

A drop
Petered down to the sill .
I wondered if it would
The water table fill .

A drop
Pattered down the pane.
I wondered if it would
ease the farmer's barren pain.

A drop
Bubbled down to the Earth
I wondered if it would
Bloom a bud in joyful mirth.

A drop
Trickled over the water pipe
I wondered if it would
Wet the inside and our tears wipe .

A drop
Burst the bubble of comfort
I wondered if it would
Quench a parched throat that hurt.

A drop
Drizzled now and again
I wondered if it would
Finally be the Monsoon then ?

N.B.
A large part of India was declared drought stricken due to the delay of the Monsoons.
Grey rain bearing clouds would hang low over the city but would do no more than tease the parched hopeful throats dry from 40% water cuts and power shutdowns which were the order of the day .
These environmental changes have been put down to Global Warming and are said to be ominous indications of times to come.

Liberation.

2008-05-16T20:17:00.005+05:30

On an impulse she had taken the bus.

And landed at the beach, after office, thus.

He was touring and in another city

But wasting a lovely evening would be such a pity.

She walked barefoot, her work shoes in hand

As a gentle breeze toyed with an errant strand.

The setting sun painted the skies with its glow

And she reviewed her life like a rerun show .

Sweet nothings, caresses and happy tears ...

Changed to angry words , distances and niggling fears.

She casually glanced at folks nursing their sun downer

When she suddenly spied her touring out-of-towner !!

As she watched them holding hands and passionately kissing

Her feet turned cold and her disbelieving heart went missing.

Sick and dizzy as Betrayal took her on a choppy ride

She returned to Calm with the incoming tide.

Her throat was dry and her eyes a tear stained red.

But an inexplicable lightness swirled in her head.

Despair and anger gave way to a new emotion.

Changing the situation from Betrayal to Liberation.

For Writer's Island Prompts : Impulse / Betrayal / Liberation.

16th May 2008.

Faithful.

2008-05-09T22:11:00.005+05:30

Faithful.

I thought ...Man and wife

Swearing eternal love for Life.

But people do change their mind.

Often leaving spouse and promises behind.

Faithful.

I thought ... a loyal dog.

For an approving look so willing to slog.

But they age so much faster

Often leaving behind a sorrowing master.

Faithful.

I thought ..so hard and long

Spouse nor dog , both were wrong.

For faithful to his very end

Is for a man ...HIS OWN END !!!

For from the moment that he is born

It is to Death that he is sworn.

Despite Life’s roller coaster ride

Death is ever faithful and by his side.

An indulgent smile allowing him his breath

Completely loyal , an all-knowing Death.

Do read "Dream state ...and The Awakening" for my take on the WI prompt "Fantasy" / 09 May 2008

http://la-muse07.blogspot.com/2008/03/dream-state.html

WI Prompt / 09 May 2008 : "FAITHFUL"

A Tigress.

2008-05-03T20:41:00.003+05:30

Her glinting eyes a cold and steely grey

Watched him as if he were helpless prey.

Fear ran rivulets on his furrowed brow

He knew he had to escape the situation somehow.

Then Jack was nimble and Jack was quick

And Jack knew this was his last possible trick .

Like a vision it dawned, with a blinding flash

He yanked the wire in a sudden dash .

A twirl a cut a split a splice ..and it seemed ready.

Though her eyes darted, the expectant smile was steady.

His fumbling fingers tripped over the keys

Shaking and shivering like his jellied knees.

With a hesitant spurt as it spluttered to life

She slid to position like, through butter, a hot knife.

As the ferocious roar turned into a delighted purr

He seemed relieved at the lack of flying fur .

As her exuberant fingers hit the keyboard again

He tiptoed backwards and out of her den.

Out in the open, he sagaciously nodded his head

And a knowing smile on his face then spread.

He urged his bike to a sputtered kick start

And zoomed out of there with a relieved heart.

For he knew ........

Prolonged absence from the net makes people strange

Some go wild or some even dangerously derange !!

Writer's Island Prompt / 02 May 2008 : "FEROCIOUS".

Size does matter.....

2008-04-26T02:08:00.004+05:30

“Outrageous”, I had screamed in quiet fury

Surveying the clothes strewn around in a hurry.

There had been such anticipation and sense of excitement

And that alluring black bustier had been a definite enticement.

He had stood expectantly , hanging on to my every word

He tried to reason and his eyes even implored.

But I stood my ground and looked at him with scorn.

And that once caring man was now my enemy sworn.

Taking a deep breath, I held it in till it hurt ...

And continued to resolutely zip up the velvet skirt.

My fingers quivered and my hand , it shook

I steeled myself to put in all the effort it took .

His words came back to me and I almost died

I lost my composure, then broke down and cried.

Feeling all exhausted and tired and spent

My reckless rebellion I sincerely did repent.

Now sorrowfully I would ask him to take back

The skirt that I had picked up off the rack .

For the store hand had been right

That god damn skirt was definitely too tight !!

Writer's Island Prompt / 25th April 2008 :" Outrageous"

Never Ending Completion.

2008-04-26T01:02:00.003+05:30

A n errant dog barks at the crescent moon.

A silent leaf to the ground does swoon.

Quiet are the dusty winding ways

Except for a hoot through the opaque haze.

A guard yawns loud and rather lazily .

While the drunk weaves about very crazily .

Silence sings the song of the cricket

Moonlight gleams on the leaves of the thicket

The twinkling stars blink away the night

And it is soon time for the first daylight .

The cloak of darkness parts for the nascent sun.

Heralding that the new day has just begun.

The cricket’s nightsong gives way to twitter

The wake- up call for every living critter .

As Day follows Night in eternal rotation

A diurnal cycle of never ending COMPLETION.

Writer's Island Prompt / 25 April 2008 :"COMPLETION"

The Survivor.

2008-04-24T02:09:00.003+05:30

My chest swells with immense pride

As she walks to me , my blushing bride.

Very soon she is a doting mother

Then her headaches begin to bother.

She has a lesion in her brain

That is causing us all this pain.

While our daughters grow under Love and Care

Her life becomes a Death defying dare.

Doctors and medicines are her rigmarole

While on the Grim Reaper’s parole.

For eleven years she kisses and hugs

Our daughters , and my heartstring tugs.

Now weak and soon bedridden

She tries to keep her emotions hidden.

With gestures now she tries to talk

As our daughters’ futures she tries to chalk.

Her frustrating efforts make her laugh

Or when translating, I make a gaffe .

On her forehead I trace my fingers.

Perhaps a pain there still lingers.

Her heart is now a pulsating beep.

Her eyes are still as if in sleep.

The green lines of her mind

Are slowly straightening ,I soon find.

A tear escapes my soundless cry

Onto her unmoving eyes so dry .

“Snatch her back” I start to think

“From that deadly abysmal brink.”

Such a wretched plan does Fate connive

She passes on while I survive.

It is now close to four years

But my eyes still brim with fresh tears.

Her loving thoughts, my mind do grace

Still brightens my world, her radiant face.

And my other half is an empty side,

For she no longer walks, my blushing bride.

Writer's Island Prompt :"Survivor" 18 April 2008.

P.S. I request you to also read "her" point of view in "Life ...in a hurry"

http://la-muse07.blogspot.com/2008/04/life-in-hurry.html

Life ....in a hurry

2008-04-17T16:45:00.005+05:30

It is the morning flurry

I pack the kids off in a hurry

There never is ever enough time

As always school mornings are a pantomime.

A moment of peace and I breathe a sigh

Then glance at the chores waiting patiently by !

With renewed determination I then plod along..

Life is so full and the day seems so long.

Mmmmm ..that pain keeps distracting me

Now where’s that headache pill , let me see.

Doesn’t seem to be working, maybe I should rest.

Perhaps a lie-down just might be the best.

It is the morning flurry

The morning rush is simply a blurry .

As always there never is any time

Each passing second as if hell bent on crime.

In a quiet moment I look at the clock.

It would soon be time to stand in the dock.

A fearfully hopeful mind wouldn’t dare to predict

What way would swing the doctor’s verdict.

That niggling pain is now a dull ache

For relief now there is no measure to take.

My body is racked in a terrible anticipation

The telephone ring I answer with hesitation.

It is the morning flurry

Everyone is fraught with worry .

There never was or is enough time

For Life is being snatched in its very prime.

For a short moment ,between spasms of pain

Looking at my family , I take in an eyeful again.

When suddenly crept in a thought asinine

Was it okay to die at thirty nine ?

The pain is now fierce and so constant

Then there is this blinding searing instant.

Time fades away as it doesn't exist now.

As to Fate my limp head does bow.

Flight

2008-04-11T19:47:00.005+05:30

In stone, a sculptor with his skillful art
Had cast the emotions of my very heart
For in the middle of the lake in broad daylight
Stood the swans , all ready for flight .
My ideas and thoughts waiting to be free
With wings outstretched for their flights of fancy .

Singapore Botanical Gardens.

For Writer's Island prompt : 11 April 2008 / "Flight"

“It was a dark and stormy night ...”

2008-03-29T22:54:00.001+05:30

It was a dark and stormy night
The shadows moved around the room
With the swaying of the solitary light
Spreading a macabre sense of doom

There was one, particularly dark and long
That inched its way stealthily from under the door
With each grain of dust and inch, it grew more strong
Dragging its footless hem along the skirting of the floor.

The pair lay arm in arm, upstairs in bed
Bound by Fear and passions flaring high
Torrid perspiration their worried foreheads fled
The fear of discovery giving out an occasional sigh.

How long would this last ? He’d have to take the gamble
Steeling himself, he smiled at her in consolation
Then got off the bed without much preamble
His mind set to end this frightened isolation

Disentangling himself, he decided to be brave
Donning an armor of Bravado and head wearing a frown
He crept downstairs where the situation was getting grave
With luck , he knocked down the intruder ...CHARLIE BROWN !!!

The food bowl tottered and Charlie lay in a sprawl
Snoopy gave Charlie's face a lick of delight
Then he woofed loudly and gave Woodstock a call!
Presently on his rickety typewriter, his fingers flew light ....

“It was a dark and stormy night ...”

Writer's Island /28 March 2008/Prompts " "The Gamble" & "Torrid"

The Venus Flytrap.

2008-03-29T00:49:00.004+05:30

Alluringly soft

Her moist red lips

Curled into a smile that missed her eyes

Burning hot

His drunken dimmed sight

Saw only the dimples on her cheeks

Insistently urgent

His yearning firm arms

Longed for her smooth supple skin

Coyly inviting

Her half teasing smile

Drew him quicker to her side

Intensely happy

His trusting young face

Rested most eagerly on her willing shoulder

Mockingly cruel

Her disdainful eyes

Unseen by his gullible juvenile inexperience

Lavishly abundant

His inexhaustible reserve

Of Youth ..of Wealth..Of confidence in the future

Abhorringly sad

This torrid affair

The repetitive gamble of THE VENUS FLYTRAP .

Writer's Island / 28 March 2008 /Prompts : "The Gamble" and "Torrid"

My Baby.

2008-03-23T15:46:00.004+05:30

As the Night throbbed to the pulsating starlight
Resting on the down, my dreams took a winged flight.

Some of the lanes were brightly lit and other were dark alleys.
Reminders of moments joyous and others of regrets and follies.

I suddenly heard someone whimper and weep
And I was awakened from my flighty sleep.

I kissed her little forehead and stroked her gently
And the two of us were dozing again presently.

She wagged her little tail and woofed in delight
As both of us this time, took that dreamy flight .

We wandered and walked as happy as we could be
Just to be together, in each other’s company.

I suddenly realised she wasn’t by my side
And lay looking rather forlorn by the wayside.

As she looked up at me with those big imploring eyes
I rushed back to her muttering concerned cries .

I picked her up to find ,under her long floppy ear
Was caked blood and a still oozing tear .

As my feet turned cold, I shut my eyes
Which I opened to see the glow of sunrise.

And she stood by my bed saying in her doggie talk
That I should wake up and take her for her walk !

Cookie and I , we walked another couple of years
I watched while she wagged or flapped her long ears.

Then one day she needed a routine operation
And we kept her “nil by mouth” in preparation.

When the deed was done , in her basket I put her.
Her complaining whimpers soon grew to a whisper.

I fussed and talked to her in a comforting voice.
She just looked on with those glistening brown eyes.

With a gush of love I picked up her head
Only to find she’d stopped breathing and was now dead.

I turned her head to see the tear in the ear and the caked blood
I was racked with agony as my tears came out in a flood.

My recurrent dream had come true
For indeed this was déjà vu.

Writer's Island prompt /21 March 2008 : "Déjà vu."

Déjà vu

2008-03-22T16:41:00.003+05:30

The setting sun framed her face

Highlighting her infinite beauty and grace.

An errant lock brushed her cheek.

Attempting my straying attention to pique.

From the crescent of her lips escaped an alluring smile

To mask her joy, her efforts were deemed futile.

Her welcoming arms , warm with her fragrance

Eased off the pain and held me in a trance.

Against her soft and familiar chest

I finally lay my weary head to rest .

No, I do not relive the past .

But live as I breathe my very last.

So many times I lived the moment of Death

That now when this was truly my last breath

“Been there , done that “ was all I could think

While standing at Life’s precipitous brink.

There was this sense of déjà vu ...

Has this ever happened to you ?

Writer's Island prompt /March 21st, 2008 : Déjà vu

An Apple ..from Eden.

2008-03-18T12:30:00.005+05:30

An apple
Half eaten
Juicy and white
A forbidden last night.
An apple
Half eaten
Skin so smooth to touch
Deliciously sweet and irresistible as such.
An apple
Half eaten
Bitten to pips and core
A burning desire for some more
An apple
Half eaten
Jagged edges getting brown
Uncontrollable urges in which to drown.
An apple
Half eaten
Now rapidly decaying
Lustful bonds quickly fraying
An apple
Half eaten
All black and rotten
Cold as ashes and soon forgotten.

Spellbound- Writer's Island Prompt

2008-03-16T00:15:00.004+05:30

Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

This article I read spellbound with fascination

About the human mind and of letter juxtaposition.

A wrong spelling, now that doesn’t matter much

As long as it contains all the original letters as such.

The letters in the middle can be any which way arranged

As long as the ones at the beginning and end are unchanged !!

While my amazement for the human mind certainly grew

And with its immense capability for the abstract to construe,

I was ever so clearly and extremely astound

When I realised that the’wrod was deinfetily ‘ spell-bound !!!

For the mind was not totally unfettered ...though however free

For , to recognise the finite word, it had its limits to see ..

The beginning and the end of the spelling of the word were bound

To their places , no matter how you tossed, those in the middle, around .

So very like Life, now wouldn’t you agree ?

We know our beginning and our end , you see.

And it is up to us what we make of the middle

And exactly what we read into Life’s enigmatic riddle.

Water's Edge.

2008-03-14T01:05:00.005+05:30

On the soft ,fine sand lie imprints

Of footsteps ..that once walked that way

A faint outline of blurred footprints

That the rising Tide held in its sway.

For many moons ago there walked

Another ...... dreaming of the stars

With Present and the Future chalked

Unmindful of Life’s unexpected jars.

Though many rising suns have sizzled

Into the cool of the unfathomable Blue

The washed footprints lay nuzzled

By a secluded rock ..waiting to renew..

Into the distant horizon ..their journey.

So what if the Feet are not the same

The Eyes, they will see so surely

The torch of Rising Hope, aflame.