Tag Archives: inspired

Words lost

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Within the bounds of thoughts,
we wish at times we could write,
as powerful as we think,
the threads of dreams,
in and out of my mind,
something tangible yet lost.
When sleep won over,
i risked the words last night,
losing them within myself,
finally forgetting,
unable to even trace,
as musch as i try.

Someday it will return from the wild origins,
someday those words will flow again,
someday…

Of dreams and love songs

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One person kills himself
A generation dies.


One day I killed a dream
the ashes still hurt my eyes.

One dream gave birth to hopes in heart
the flowers make the days easy to pass.
One flower fell in love with winds
to fly away or to die is its only dream.

One dream killed the lovely flower
the songs of love resonate the valleys since.

This form of poetry is landai- two-line folk poems from Afghanistan.the success of the poetry form is attributed to it being easy to memorize, which is really important in a culture where women are poorly schooled and forbidden to write or read. The word landai means “short, poisonous snake” in Pashto. The poems are collective — no single person writes a landai; a woman repeats one, shares one. It is hers and not hers. Although men do recite them, almost all are cast in the voices of women.

The italicized landai is taken from another article and I have written linked ones after that.

Much thanks to Kenia @ imaginary Garden for talking about Afghan women and their struggle for poetry which is in a way is reflective of their life.

Please do read the original article : Why Afghan women risk death to write Poetry

Love and light

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In his light
one finds the way
of glorified sacrifices,
of immortal history -
his love.

Elizabeth at Musical Notes : Poetry Prompt asked us to write a poem in 15 words or less , inspired after hearing the following song ” Joan of Arc” -

–

 

–

The song for em is a dialogue between god and her. And it literally moved me. I was in a trance sort. I heard it over and over. the metaphors , the voice , the music was just bang on !
And thats why it was so tough to write something that made sense after this heavy background ..

 

 

When a woman loves

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When a woman loves,
a song I heard one day;
and never knew how I would
relate to it in some way …

I remember not
the signs it detailed,
or the actions of the
lady in love, as singer says;

All I now am left with is
the faint melody
and the fragrances
of that love filled memory.

Those were the days
love rested in words alone
and today I stand
in arms of some one my own.

When a woman loves,
she might just act like me
or do I love and pine
like any woman in love would be.

.

This poem is inspired by another poem of same name by Blaga.

Shadows in dark

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(Inspired from this post)

She walks holding his hand, he – the child of the dark. she knows he is getting used to her shadow entangled with his dark aura. he likes the warm glow she has he tells her. she says its only when she is with him but he just nods. Together they walk thus, holding hands. Their souls walk a step behind, arms linked , her head resting on his shoulder. they look back at the scene, laugh in the eyes, and walk into a new dawn.

A blank sheet

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A blank sheet I am,
and so I would remain,
if left alone in a corner,
to await a turn of fate.

I like not myself like this,
some words i always want,
to make my life a little better
will you not give me a chance ?

I slip out of my place
and follow you around
towards winds i try to crawl
unless you hold me down.

Oh the first scratch,
the strikes and the flowing lines
the words, the tears, the smiles,
these memories will keep me alive.

Inspired by this poem :
http://musingsofachaoticsoul.blogspot.in/2012/02/blank-piece-of-paper.html

Image Source

The call that came,but late

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It all started with this post by poohi.

that lead to a poem by Martin & poohi’s reply to the poem as detailed here.

And then i joined with these lines :

—

The call that never came,
did happen one fine day;
alas, it was a bit too late,

neither happy nor sad,
for the words exchanged,
the pain was too heavy
to carry its own weight,
the complaints too many
to be silenced by excuses of fate;
the eyes too parched
to cry and let things be fine,
the distances too large
to make you my sunshine;
The call that never came,
should never have changed,
neither happy nor sad,
yet disappointed by the same
—
Poohi replied to these these lines and that too is added to the above linked post.
Any more inspired thoughts or ideas ?
Do tell me about “a call” that came or not, on time or not !
–
Brian wrote another poem on “the call” .. I hope I could say this myself ..

Had heart been silent

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Heart should have remained
silent when you had asked
if i ever loved,
had i not wished
an affirmative answer,
and you perhaps otherwise,
we would not be where we stand
loved, hurt and inclined to part
not by choice
or force of time
but still at crossroads
facing away
and heading out,
alone but not lonely
with tears but of memories,
pricked by figments of the silence
that would have saved
this vulnerable soul
from hardening thus.

–

Originally written in response to this poem, edited and submitted for 3ww

also linked to Poetry Tow Truck

Just like me [Mera jaisa tu .. ]

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The title “Mera jaisa tu” is a line from one of the songs i have been listening to a lot these days  .. And it translates to : “you are just like me”. And that made me wondering ..

They say opposites attract ! But is it not the similarities that bring two people close ??

what do you have to say about it ??

And below are the lines I wrote last night listening to the same song :

starting from the differences we have,

tracing the journey backwards

through the different views

you and me showed each other

from eyes of heart ,

and voices of soul;

i reach again the same place

where it all began,

from one word to another line,

from one silly comment

to hours of non sense talks,

to smiles , tears , pain and loss,

back to here, where I stand today,

alone yet loved, sad yet strong !

Here is the song if you want to hear :


–

Submitted to Thursday Poets rally week 49

Often he thinks

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Often he thinks,
how she would remember him;
the voice that filled her
or the silence she talked,
the images on her laptop
or the blurred ones in heart,
the kiss of first meeting
or the awkward hug of last,
Will he find himself
Dissected on canvas sheets?
as she tries to paint the feelings
her words failed to express,
Will he be branded as the lava
that burnt into her defenses
and left her marked forever
without fear of consequence.
or will he deserve forgiveness
in the name of forgotten past
and be just a name to her
not even the way she called.
And he laughs loudly
at his desperate thoughts
that walked away to be forgotten
and now desire not to be lost.

==

This poem was inspired from the lines

“Will he find himself,

Dissected on canvas sheets?”

from a poem by MindlovesMisery .

Not a lot about Love

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Well the first song my Ipod made me listen to was “mohabbat ki jhoothi kahani par roye” [ Translation : Cried over the lying tales of love ] .. And though the lyrics are pretty clear with no hidden reference to anything, the lines made me think about the concept of love. A friend last week had argued that unless we love ourself, we can not love any one. And i guess he makes sense now. If I can not love myself, how can I expect some one else to do that same ? My flaws are mine but they are no more than the good I posess. I am lot better that I judge myself [ also lot worse than I think ]. But that’s what and who I am. and always be.

Love does not lie. Love indeed gives you all happiness you seek. And it can give you loads of pain too if you try to decide the source of love and ignore the rest. Friends , family , readers of my blog , people I talk to online and offline , my team mates , any one who makes my day any better becomes my source of Love. And I become the source when I acknowledge the same. And I just love them all a lot. Some of them , I love too much I guess. And it makes me happy just to know such wonderful people.

So If i still want to cry foul that life did not give me a taste of love, well, I am going to make a fool of myself. I am finally prepared to wait for the one person who will come and understand my bonds to others and glue them with his trust and cares. I need no one who wants me to cut away from my network of people just to have a bubble of forced safety. Not again.

My heart is not empty any more to let any one make home there. It neither is full enough not to let worthy people stay in some corners.

I am now running out of both ideas and time , So I stop typing now.
Whatever this might mean to you,
Bless you !
Loved be !

We walked..

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Hand in hand,
we always walked,
no matter day
or the hours of dark.

You being my eyes
I be your words
together we make
better of the worst.

I be your music
you sing the songs
in the language
to world, unknown.

You hold me close
when desires tempt
and show me light
where peace dwelled.

I  pull you back
when madness rules
and ease the pains
that trouble you.

Hand in hand,
I wanted to walk,
till you let me free
to explore the dark.

Tainted I now feel,
to hold your hand
pain is all i will get
in your dream land.

 

Inspired by the comments shared with NU here

Submitted to Poets Rally Week 38

His food

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He was hungry.

Not the usual “I want to eat/read/write/have sex type hungry”
He could have enough of anything he wanted – yeah, even sex too.
Yet, he had the feeling he was hungry. He wanted more.
He wanted ..  Well he did not just know what did he want.
And then he met her – And evetything made sense to him in that moment

He was hungry to be troubled – no one he ever met could make him feel NOT wanted.But her looks did – her arrogance gave him a high , her indifference was his favorite food. Her words of rebuke were his song, her cruel smiles were his reward for persuing her still.

And then she decided to acknowledge his efforts – She went to him and slapped him hard. That night he slept peacefully after weeks.  Next day they went for their first date.

 

(I would have never daredto explore my writing in this direction except for 2 people whom i have lately been reading. This is for you guys. Thanks)

Ripples

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A ripple per person
we meet as life flows.
A ripple a day,
lets imagine it so.
A ripple for every act
good or bad be it
A ripple for each word
even if expressed silently.
This ripple we create
in life not just ours,
they will live their span
years,days or hours.
The ripples you make
let the good ones run long
and those of hurt and pain
Of them, need i say more ?

Written for Z to A challenge – R

Photo via Flickr/Vince Belford

If you are interested in science, or just curious, read about stone skipping here