500 Days of Summer

five_hundred_days_of_summer

Ever gotten bored doing the same thing over and over, listening to the same concepts of life always, pile of rhetorics buttered with voices where the only difference among them are the damn voices. Well, whatever your answer, you are bound to adore the Indie flick, “500 Days of Summer.”

Let’s hope the preceding lines didn’t throw you off the track.
What I was going for, was to put it out there, the word ‘newness.’ Insanely common it does sound to the majority of us, since we have always wanted a newer beginning, or a newer end, a change of technology and precisely a change of perspective. The idea of ‘newness’ is so alluring that mind genuinely drifts off to a bunch of imaginative glimpses, possibly a creation of our mental research. Although, you might accept that even though you are quick to think and explore this newer perspective that has presented itself, you fail to imbibe it in reality. You cumbered by your own defense mechanism, generate scenarios where the change that you seek would not work, and to discourage yourself is all you Continue reading

Large Guanacaste tree

Large-Guanacaste-tree.jpg

I see green
touching golden grass,
vastness of structure,
shade for comfort,
strong and insuperable,
Large-Guanacaste-tree,
a traveler’s paradise,
Large-Guanacaste-tree.

I don’t see dark,
beneath the shade,
lie roots naked, devoid
of leaves and fruits,
sipping water, from wherever,
digging deeper, beyond it’s
length, to make green
Large-Guanacaste-tree.

A picture perfect,
never is all lucrative,
A picture perfect,
never is about beauty,
A picture perfect,
exists, background known
and visible to a few, whilst all see
Large-Guanacaste-tree.

Gloomy are the roots, hidden,
it’s not known to some,ignored by
some, accepted by some.
It’s “menial” for arrogant rich,
it’s “sacrifice” for wise, alright,
capable of discernment, living,
but it’s also “life-of-many”,
not pretty, but exists a “picture perfect”.

Such is life, I agree,
I understand and I don’t complain.
But next time,
when I see
Large-Guanacaste-tree,
I shall appreciate thee
hidden beneath
Large-Guanacaste-tree.

From RANDOM to RHYME

It’s decremental, it is, you will see.
I wish to explicate an observable beauty.

In a house, began my life, contemporary,
clustered with people, eating brownie,
non-complicated, and I was taught
lessons of life. I invariably bought,
curiosity was, questioning I did, most times,
they answered too, and so the frequent climbs.
I believed, for trust was larger-than-life,
not that I understood “what was life?”
but those first steps in school, sometime
I feel I had moved from random to rhyme.

It’s decremental, it is, you will see.
I wish to explicate, an observable beauty.

In school, associations grew, and new
knowledge cluttered over existing value.
A walk in NEW unfolded variables,
I resonated with yes, for I trusted all angles,
But life as we know it, was not up for hide,
color it revealed, I denied, but it kept aside
morality, truth it showered, “yes, I was lied”,
trust, my innocence, that day “died”.
Conscious stammered, I reviewed my crime,
realizing life had moved from random to rhyme.

It’s decremental, it is, didn’t you see?
I wish to explicate, an untold agony.

In life, started happening, contemplating,
caution grew paramount. It’s truth or acting?
Layered knowledge tampered, who to blame,
questioning all, life never remained the same.
Who knew, random was just scattered ties,
of placed, known and untested allies.
Who knew, rhyme wasn’t just a poetic tool,
but to sing along this manipulative solicit pool.
So, was changed, learned to not trust a dime,
with adjustment moved, from random to rhyme.

It’s decremental, placing trust, you see,
losing as aging. So, cerebrating, to seek some for me.

Note
The poem is on trust, how we lose it as we grow, remember childhood, how we believed everything and everyone, and now, when we meet people, it takes time, a lot of time, and sometimes even after the endless time we are left guessing.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow – Celebrating HOPE

Somewhere Over The Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwo Ole originally sung by Judy Garland.

I have listened to this whenever I was happy, whenever sadness swept away my very desires, whenever I felt torn down, whenever I lacked sense of imagination, I listened to it, paraphrasing its every word, taking what I can and doing what I must, and always in the due course, a smile felt on my face and I was building dreams again.

I am an optimist, if you ask me what kind of poet I wish to be (if I ever qualify as one), I would be the poet of hope, even in the most hopeless moments, I cannot stop reflect hope because I am afraid, world will never be the same without my only valued tool.

Revelations of fragmented sorrow
panned out across the sphere
a turgid crusade sweeping the gallows
I wish to betray the absenteeism
I wish to endorse the excruciations
for logistics are flawed
for time is vague, and endless
for there lies clouded in darkest regimes
keys to gateways amid horrid eclipse
I wish to entrust the synergy in act
ascribe to the domiciliary caves
for reciprocal aid is obligatory
and diffusion, beyond conscious learning.

Rambling, discursive, enveloping rationality
inclined to debate on natural order
speculating the ordeals of emigrating birds
the sun, stars, land, water and entire eternity
spoofing the riches, failing to comply
I wish to discover but not hinder
I wish to smile along but not possess
for stars shimmer, sun parts with all
for my birth right excoriates control
for relevance subdued is inhibition
I wish to envisage the realm
deserted of avarice, of corrupted souls
for hope appeals my intellect every treasured moment.

POETRY POTLUCK- Inspired by a Song

Symphony of Rays, double rainbow

This poem is an experience of a “double rainbow”. I did take a little help from science as you can find here. I would like to link it to Poetry Potluck for this weeks challenge on “color, spring and rainbow”.

Long time, the past winters,
laying on my bed, after the night’s blabbers,
closed eyes, dark to red it gained,
a shaft of light onto me, eyes opened like its debut,
hand over eyes, adjusting,
and on the top floor, I met “spring” by the window.

The sun’s warmth felt on my face,
looked at the parallel window and ran to it at pace,
stretched my arms to the horizon,
drops on my palm, falling as in one,
mesmerizing as if Eden,
and on the top floor, I met thy “heaven”.

A little science struck me then,
the rain, the sun, the light,
‘water drop acts like a prism’, I said,
jumped to the balcony to glare the view, ahead,
to my surprise, not a rainbow,
but on the top floor, a “double rainbow” stood thereby.

The symphony of the rays reverberated from drops at pace,
cascaded in skies, an array of colors to embrace,
rain step by step ceased,
the charisma gradually trailed,
colors languished over time,
and on the top floor, I rejuvenated the chemistry of “spring, rainbow and color” as rhyme.

Fiascos of Relationship

Sitting in this place today,
I remember that day, it was Monday,
a desperate urgency filled me in,
moved out of my burrows , and so begins,
the story that was my dream,
the girl who cascaded in my heart, a musical theme.

A shy character was my name,
far off from fame,
never really thought of love as fair game,
the enchantment of violin, as felt many, seemed a false claim,
but things are no more the same,
no more shame, off goes the insecurities I overcame.

The delusional coarse I had in mind,
seemed so upright, that I moved ahead as if blind,
lucky me, the girl understood,
and my relationship moved forth for good,
messaging, chatting, get together seemed a regular affair,
felt life is certainly debonair.

Thinking about it this day today,
remember myself hoping for that moment to stay,
the release of ‘500 days of summer‘ was still due,
otherwise would not have needed any review,
knowing a newer relationship is out-there,
would have moved on with no impending repair.