If No One Ever Marries Me

If no one ever marries me --
And I don't see why they should,
For nurse says I'm not pretty,
And I'm seldom very good --

If no one ever marries me
I shan't mind very much,
I shall buy a squirrel in a cage
And a little rabbit-hutch;

I shall have a cottage near a wood,
And a pony all my own,
And a little lamb, quite clean and tame,
That I can take to town.

And when I'm getting really old --
At twenty-eight or nine --
I shall buy a little orphan-girl
And bring her up as mine.

by Lawrence Alma-Tadema

Wise words for a Wedding

Megs insists I post this. So, here goes. This was written for a scrap book that went around during a wedding in the family:

As you begin your new "happy married life"
Here is some (perhaps unsolicited?) advice
Even though you're always 'husband and wife'
To each other, say 'Please', 'Thank you' - BE NICE!

In each other's face, space, all the time
Magnifies flaws, issues in your sights
But do not argue for no reason or rhyme-
Only if it's important - PICK YOUR FIGHTS!

There will be pleasure, there will be pain
And all things emotional in this range
Getting married is like being born again
Be very prepared - BE READY TO CHANGE!

It feels new now, beautiful, holds you in thrall
But over time you may tire, get bored, be spent
It takes work to make it work in the long haul
You'll need to REFRESH, REJUVENATE, REINVENT!

Be close, be near to your loved one's heart
But keep some space, SOMETIMES LET GO
"For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow*"

*with apologies to Khalil Gibran

A jerky ride...

Not one of my best, I think. But this did happen. This is for S & S. I've completely lost touch with one of you. I hope all's well wherever you are and whatever you are doing :

I woke up this morning and got on with life,
So many things to do, in a short-lived day!
Battle on young soldier in self inflicted strife ...
So many victories await me, no time for play!

And I zoomed out into a sea of black smoke,
Waded for an hour, till my destination showed.
Not a sign of fortune, not a lucky stroke,
Made my day easier with the routine work code.

And I headed back in the reverse direction,
Tracing the paths I had tread hours back.
And cut through the engulfing dust and pollution,
Praying the rest of time would cut me some slack.

In just one short glimpse, of friends by the lane,
Good 'ol memories came by to visit a lone ranger.
Of the timeless talks, I engaged in, time and again,
With a friend, who years ago, was less like a stranger.

What times were they ! Every happy moment counted.
Little gifts and hand written messages were a treasure.
No pretentions, no aspirations were ever flaunted.
When smiles flowed freely, genuine, without any pressure.

And in a moment of rude shock I saw I had stopped,
A little too long at a signal, while others whizzed past.
Caught in a still frame, my confidence had dropped,
And weakly I hoped that moment would forever last.

I could feel nothing, no urge lasted, nothing to grope,
No prejudice, no aggression, no fear, no feeling to bind ...
And in that flash, my heart was filled with the hope,
For the oxymorons of our time, an empty thought and a vacant mind!

The Clock of Life by Robert H Smith

   The clock of life is wound but once
  And no man has the power
  To tell just where the hands will stop,
  At late or early hour.

  To lose one's wealth is sad indeed,
  To lose one's health is more.
  To lose one's soul is such a loss
  As no man can restore.

  The present only is our own.
  Live, love, toil with a will.
  Place no faith in 'tomorrow'
  For the clock may then be still.

Rhyming weed...

There was once a time of splendid, but silent thoughts,

Written down in speechless curves, dashes and dots.

A time when in the wordy gymnastics with a paper and pen,

Only a special few could get themselves a perfect ten!

And today, writing is but just a commoner's hobby..

With growing opinions in every new writer's lobby.

Look around you and you'll see someone tearing down the Internet,

And vehemently, with a sharp toothed mouse and a boisterous key set.

Tip, Tap, Clack, Click, Tip, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Clack, Click

On goes the constant chattering with words, that we carelessly pick.

In this way of today, where few can distinguish their words as good,

Grab a chance, claim my fame, publish this poem, I should!

Before this paper fades, and my writing - no one can really read...

I must walk into the isles of my blog and sow this tiny seed

For in a crowded garden of countless flowers, who'd notice but a weed?

Driftwood

I'm a piece of driftwood on the stream
No purpose in life, no cherished dream
Going however the current carries me forth
I love nothing and nothing do I loath

Sometimes I get entangled in a crevice or rock
Trees and bushes my way they block
Always the current pushes me on, and then I'm free
Drifting down for the rendezvous with the sea

Nothing more than clay in a potter's hand
Drifting mid-river, now resting on beach sand
Meeting the sea is destined, so I can't be late
So I'm washed away again by the currents of fate

Along the way, other driftwood I see
To some I cling, from some I flee
Some I love, I wish they would stay
But they all finally, just drift away

So it makes me sad, I'm all alone
Bruised and battered, cold to the bone
But there's the sea, just beyond this slope
The journey's end is my only hope

I've reached the sea, no more struggle and strife
I've reached the end, on the river of life
Show's over folks,now lets wind up fast
Freedom and peace, I'm home at last

-Prem

पथ की पहचान


पूर्व चलने के बटोही बाट की पहचान कर ले।

पुस्तकों में है नहीं
छापी गई इसकी कहानी
हाल इसका ज्ञात होता
है न औरों की जबानी

अनगिनत राही गए
इस राह से उनका पता क्या
पर गए कुछ लोग इस पर
छोड़ पैरों की निशानी

यह निशानी मूक होकर
भी बहुत कुछ बोलती है
खोल इसका अर्थ पंथी
पंथ का अनुमान कर ले।

पूर्व चलने के बटोही बाट की पहचान कर ले।

यह बुरा है या कि अच्छा
व्यर्थ दिन इस पर बिताना
अब असंभव छोड़ यह पथ
दूसरे पर पग बढ़ाना

तू इसे अच्छा समझ
यात्रा सरल इससे बनेगी
सोच मत केवल तुझे ही
यह पड़ा मन में बिठाना

हर सफल पंथी यही
विश्वास ले इस पर बढ़ा है
तू इसी पर आज अपने
चित्त का अवधान कर ले।

पूर्व चलने के बटोही बाट की पहचान कर ले।

है अनिश्चित किस जगह पर
सरित गिरि गह्वर मिलेंगे
है अनिश्चित किस जगह पर
बाग वन सुंदर मिलेंगे

किस जगह यात्रा खतम हो
जाएगी यह भी अनिश्चित
है अनिश्चित कब सुमन कब
कंटकों के शर मिलेंगे

कौन सहसा छू जाएँगे
मिलेंगे कौन सहसा
आ पड़े कुछ भी रुकेगा
तू न ऐसी आन कर ले।

पूर्व चलने के बटोही बाट की पहचान कर ले।

Harivansh Rai Bachchan

Since, this is my first post, its apt that I start with the introduction that means parichay..
परिचय

सलिल कण हूँ, या पारावार हूँ मैं

स्वयं छाया, स्वयं आधार हूँ मैं

बँधा हूँ, स्वपन हूँ, लघु वृत हूँ मैं

नहीं तो व्योम का विस्तार हूँ मैं

समाना चाहता है, जो बीन उर में

विकल उस शुन्य की झनंकार हूँ मैं

भटकता खोजता हूँ, ज्योति तम में

सुना है ज्योति का आगार हूँ मैं

जिसे निशि खोजती तारे जलाकर

उसीका कर रहा अभिसार हूँ मैं

जनम कर मर चुका सौ बार लेकिन

अगम का पा सका क्या पार हूँ मैं

कली की पंखुडीं पर ओस-कण में

रंगीले स्वपन का संसार हूँ मैं

मुझे क्या आज ही या कल झरुँ मैं

सुमन हूँ, एक लघु उपहार हूँ मैं

मधुर जीवन हुआ कुछ प्राण! जब से

लगा ढोने व्यथा का भार हूँ मैं

रुंदन अनमोल धन कवि का, इसी से

पिरोता आँसुओं का हार हूँ मैं

मुझे क्या गर्व हो अपनी विभा का

चिता का धूलिकण हूँ, क्षार हूँ मैं

पता मेरा तुझे मिट्टी कहेगी

समा जिस्में चुका सौ बार हूँ मैं

न देंखे विश्व, पर मुझको घृणा से

मनुज हूँ, सृष्टि का श्रृंगार हूँ मैं

पुजारिन, धुलि से मुझको उठा ले

तुम्हारे देवता का हार हूँ मैं

सुनुँ क्या सिंधु, मैं गर्जन तुम्हारा

स्वयं युग-धर्म की हुँकार हूँ मैं

कठिन निर्घोष हूँ भीषण अशनि का

प्रलय-गांडीव की टंकार हूँ मैं

दबी सी आग हूँ भीषण क्षुधा का

दलित का मौन हाहाकार हूँ मैं

सजग संसार, तू निज को सम्हाले

प्रलय का क्षुब्ध पारावार हूँ मैं

बंधा तुफान हूँ, चलना मना है

बँधी उद्याम निर्झर-धार हूँ मैं

कहूँ क्या कौन हूँ, क्या आग मेरी

बँधी है लेखनी, लाचार हूँ मैं ।।

रामधारी सिंह 'दिनकर'

शक्ति और क्षमा !

कवि: रामधारी सिंह "दिनकर"

क्षमा, दया, तप, त्याग, मनोबल, सबका लिया सहारा
पर नर व्याघ सुयोधन तुमसे, कहो कहाँ कब हारा?

क्षमाशील हो ॠपु-सक्षम, तुम हुये विनीत जितना ही
दुष्ट कौरवों ने तुमको, कायर समझा उतना ही

क्षमा शोभती उस भुजंग को, जिसके पास गरल है
उसका क्या जो दंतहीन, विषरहित विनीत सरल है

तीन दिवस तक पंथ मांगते, रघुपति सिंधु किनारे
बैठे पढते रहे छन्द, अनुनय के प्यारे प्यारे

उत्तर में जब एक नाद भी, उठा नही सागर से
उठी अधीर धधक पौरुष की, आग राम के शर से

सिंधु देह धर त्राहि-त्राहि, करता आ गिरा शरण में
चरण पूज दासता गृहण की, बंधा मूढ़ बन्धन में

सच पूछो तो शर में ही, बसती है दीप्ति विनय की
संधिवचन सम्पूज्य उसीका, जिसमे शक्ति विजय की

सहनशीलता, क्षमा, दया को, तभी पूजता जग है
बल का दर्प चमकता उसके, पीछे जब जगमग है !

I Won't Say A Word by Arden Davidson

I Won't Say A Word - Arden Davidson

There are words I'm not allowed to say.
I really don't know why.
But once when I said one of them,
I made my mother cry.

I'm still not quite sure what it meant.
(It slipped out unexpected).
But my mother told my father,
and for now, I'm not respected.

My father told my neighbor
and my neighbor told his kid.
Now I'm an outcast at my school
and I don't know what I did!

The school told everyone in town,
that bad word that I said.
Now my preacher told my father
that I need help in the head.

I'll never use that word again.
I'll lament and I'll repent.
I only wish I had a clue
what the heck that darn word meant!

Strange encounters...

This poem is not about aliens :) !

Ever thought why she keeps calling and who's on the line,
When the tele-marketeer calls on a given morning at nine?

Ever remember that noble soul who led you all the way,
An unknown city, roads less traveled, by trust per se?

Ever wondered how the journey went past in lesser while,
Sitting next to a little child, with song along every mile?

Ever figured on the way back home, what's on a cabbie's mind,
Worrying if you struck a conversation, a tell-tale would unwind?

Ever appreciated the wise-cracks of a bus driver en route,
A man nice to you, but in traffic, among brutes is a brute?

Ever recollected the names of all your teachers in school,
Good or bad they tried their best, to help you fish in the pool?

Ever gave an opinion on what would be a better dress to choose,
To fellow-shopper, alone in the colorful riot, leashes let loose?

Ever tipped a handy man more generously for the errands run for you,
For money or not, the service he lends is not what your peers do?

Ever offered an old woman help to cross the crowded street,
Even if you didn't stop courteously, when in the busy-car fleet?

Ever questioned if we are meant to be meet strangers, just like this,
In the cosmic chaos of life, with social conduct codes amiss?

It's a dog's life ...

I've never had a pet. It's only been a while since I've been comfortable around dogs. But this post has got nothing to do with pets or dogs... if I may help, I think this is about the superiority complex of human beings ! I know we are not simple animals ... but we do have a knack for complicating things !

It's a dog's life... do they say?
When Tuffy enjoys the "jump and play",
When "fetch" isn't a monotonous word...
For greater loyalty that men find absurd.

It's a dog's life... do they say?
When Tuffy has no choices by the day,
When life is at it's simplest best,
And he's peaceful, while men at unrest?

It's a dog's life... do they say?
When Tuffy cries always, when he may,
When his feeling needn't be buried deep,
While men, fake hard for toughness to keep!

It's a dog's life... do they say?
When hunger means food, and cat means prey,
With basics met, are at the bare minimum
While men, falsely showcase prosperity to some!

It's a dog's life... they say...
When Tuffy in his kennel, duty-bound, lay..
By day and by night, asleep, awake,
By cozy bedrooms, for the Responsibility's sake

It's a dog's life... they say...
When Tuffy eats his biscuit array,
When not variety, but survival matters,
While Men dine over choicer platters !

It's a dog's life... they say...
When Tuffy has a heavy price to pay,
A stick not to spoil, forces the good manner,
For "stress" screws loosened, need doggy-spanner!

It's a dog's life... they say...
When Tuffy never stayed away,
But children left and parents cried,
Debts thought paid, and love denied!

It's a dog's life indeed, in a lot of ways,
But our lives reflected in the very phrase !

Life is calling….!!

I looked out of my window
On the tenth floor;
A long day at work
My eyes were sore…

The evening had grown
A shade darker;
Our twin tower and the closest ground
Seemed way too farther…

As I stood gazing at the nothingness
In wonder;
‘What a sterile static landscape’
I happened to murmur…


Just then amidst all darkness
Little starry lights sprang to life
Heaven seemed to have descended
Wearing a star studded gown in style…


Someone somewhere must have
Flipped on the lights in routine
To me it seemed Life had beckoned,
Tickled and outsmarted me!

A Tribute to Radio

Especially early Radio City and Radio One's Bangalore channels. Man! Have they been consistent with their special characters or what!

It's been a while since I got my hands dirty,
Spun some verses or held some charcoal and be so arty...
It's the rush of the day that's got me in tangles,
But from happy times around, my spirit still dangles!

I turn on the Radio sometime during the day,
And on comes Chamrajpet Charles with so much to say.
What Child he says, sometimes calls me James,
Tells stories of the tipsy town, puts Suzy to shames!

Sometimes it's Ghanta Singh in his weird histrionics,
Calling real neighbours, adding humour to telephonics.
An old man, with pretty much all the time in hand,
Killing with questions, no one wants to understand.

Comes Professor Ulfat Sultan in his School of Speech,
And the noble thoughts of his to extend English's reach!
Stained with an accent and pained by his wife,
With words thus spoken, he plays his funny fife !

Auto Shankar is not so new to our little town,
But the messages he bring, wear a guiltless gown...
Kudos to the connect with his fans with gentle ease,
And applying the social messages, like a coat of grease...

Whom am I awaiting yet, still tuned in this half hour
None but the flamboyant and iconic Rajani Saar!
"Kannaa..." he says, I imagine a cigarette flipped,
Smile to the face, Ears to the radio, while he quipped.

Cotton Kamakshi and her gentleness highness,
Has an answer to all of her boyfriend's silliness,
A smirk and a laugh, and taunting bouncer,
Ask her a dumb question and get a dumber answer!

Remember Lingo Leela's sessions on the local slanguage?
Sister Stella with love to heal and her reused bandage!
Ungle Appukuttan with his mallu renditions of a Hindi song,
Or Babbar Sher's limerick-al treat for which crowds throng.

Haven't heard Hema Aunty yet, but bet there's promise,
Glad there's all this creativity, without fun amiss!
It's times like this, when I surrender my talents
To the greater Gods of humour and their worthy 2 cents

I'm glad there's a medium that can make me laugh
With my family and friends, or even on their behalf
Thanks to the radio boom in the last half decade
Good to tread a free channel walk with the humour parade!

Good one this... :)

http://infochangeindia.org/kids/poems_01.php - and more good ones here

I'm Sick Of Learning Lochinvar
Sampurna Chattarji

I’m sick of learning Lochinvar,
I’m sick of Robert Frost,
Kept stopping by those snowy woods –
Why didn’t he go get lost?

And daffodils and babbling brooks,
I don’t care if they’re pretty,
I’d rather read a wicked poem
About living in my city.

I don’t mind the Highwayman
With that hat upon his brow!
But all that happened long ago,
Doesn’t anyone write about now?

If someone ever asked me
(As if someone ever would!)
I’d tell them what I’d like
To make a poem good.

I’d like a poem about my dog,
Ringitt is his name
(And Ringitt is a currency –
Didn’t know that – what a shame!)

Or a poem about my sister’s friend
(The two of them are three)
Who comes over to our house
Only when she wants to pee.

Or perhaps a really serious one
About dragons and dragonflies
A poem with really serious facts
Instead of only lies.

No poems about pirates please,
I’d prefer one on sport.
Or a super genius child who
Invented a game of thought.

But who’s listening and where can I
Find such poems on the shelf?
Who cares, I know a better way –
I’ll write them all myself!

Untitled and Confused...

Hasn't been that long, has it ;) ? Writer's blocks could last longer !
So my new project ... this. Meant to create the emotional-shutters effect. "Open shutter"- "Close shutter" -"Open shutter"- "Close shutter" . Not sure if it works for all, but my attempt anyways.
I however simply titled this screen shot "Zebra" !

~ದ್ವಂದ್ವ~

ರೌದ್ರ ತಾಂಡವದ ಭೈರವನಲ್ಲೇ

ಶಾಂತ ಯೋಗಿಯ ತಾಪಸ ಗುಣ...

ಬಂಡೆಯನ್ನೇ ಕರಗಿಸಬಲ್ಲ ದೈತ್ಯ ಅಲೆಗೆ

ಕ್ಷಣಾರ್ಧದಲ್ಲೇ ಹಿಂಜರಿಕೆಯ ಹಿನ್ನೆಡೆಯ ಬಯಕೆ...

ಗುಡುಗು ಸಿಡಿಲುಗಳಿಂದ ಬೆದರಿಸಿ ಅಬ್ಬರಿಸುವ ಆಗಸ

ಕಣ್ಣೀರ ಮಳೆಗರೆದು ಕರಗದೆ?

ದ್ವಂದ್ವ ಎಲ್ಲೆಲ್ಲೂ ಇದೆ...ಶಿವನೇನು ಅಲೆಯೇನು

ನಾನೇನು ನೀವೇನು ಹೊರತೆ?

Shrieks and Screams

With closed tight fists he hits;
I screech in pain, and he smiles...

He pulls me by my hair;
Tears run down my face, but I do not grimace!

I topple off as he kicks;
I scream in jolts and he hits me more..

The closet pulled down and torn apart;
The shuddering glass.. my neighbours enquire!

I tell them 'I am alright..'
'Its pranks of my little son, not a fight!'

Cloths of Heaven - WB Yeats

HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Wings OR Roots

No explanations given for what inspired these lines ... take this one as a self-assessment :)

Should I be a colourful butterfly,
Or should I bear a bright flower?
Offer the sweet nectar to gratify,
Or cheerfully hover, near and over...

Should be an industrious honey bee,
Or provide a frame for his hive?
Work hard to see my queen in glee,
Or squeeze amber to help her thrive...

Should I be the free-flying sparrow,
Or house her homely cozy nest?
Am I good picking grains and a willow,
Or is my yeilding a branch the best...

Should I choose to find a hollow trunk,
Or be the trunk as a clueless care-taker?
Be jabbed at for a big wooden chunk,
Or harp on wood, tediously as a pecker...

Should I be like nomadic wanderers,
Or stay steady in my given space?
Explore new lands and new waters,
Or layer as rings, with years to trace...

Choices that often leave me betrayed-
Are a platter of meat or a basket of fruits
Thinking like a child, I'm always afraid -
Should I have wings or grow roots?