Showing posts with label Something different. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Something different. Show all posts

Monday, March 28, 2011

Apu, the chai walla...

This poem is for Apu, this ever-smiling 10-year old kid who sells chai on Platform no. 3 and 4 of the Pune railway station.



“Chai Garam ! Chai Garam!”
Apu waxed lyrically.
His voice baritone-
Practiced to perfection.
Even as the train
Serenaded her
Bumpy halt.

Recalled he,
His childhood,bundled
On his father’s head
A porter – Red!
The clamor for seats
- a handkerchief !
A battle won !

Running along
Life’s train, keeping pace
A palm with coins,
Sweaty!
In lieu of a cup of tea.
Half spilled on his
Corroded hands, burnt!

The pretty girl- Memsaab!
Like a fairy in the bookstall.
Who kept turning back
To look at him.
And smiled even as he
Wiped his snotty
Face –striped with salt.

Pucker-nosed, she laughed,
As he slyly wiped the filth
On his shorts.
His fastest sprint then,
As the train stuttered,
Punctuated by
Silent whistles.

Recalled he,
The porter -Red,
The coins -Few,
The fairy –Dream!
And his never ending – Marathon.
And whispered softly
“Happy Birthday Apu. You’re ten today!”

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Stilted Hours...

Ok, this is one of my recent works. I'm extremely apprehensive about the response because my style of writing is becoming more unconventional and abstruse with every passing day. Keeping my fingers crossed and hoping you guys like it :)



There are some dawns,
of silver mirrors and rusty reflections,
when you wake up to a tune
coming from a distance; a flute’s
unadorned raga.

When time stands still,
in the womb of darkness, nascent
smiles are born, few survive while
others are aborted, bartered
for a few morsels of hope.

There are few rustic noons
planted in a courtyard, where
a hungry geranium trails
the corrugated asbestos, as
beads of sweat drizzle from
a leaden sky.

Little children bodies,
chase the wind
behind a rickety cart,
amidst whistles
and few barefooted prayers
climb the steps to godliness.

There are some evenings,
when sparrows and urchins
come home,
hand in hand.
A dusk where alms are split,
and a peasant eavesdrops
on yesterday’s conversation.

And then...



And then
You arrive,
like a whispered
wish of an anklet,
a touch of wet clay,
Lost charm in a bangle.
A firefly in wild play.

There comes a night,
when I sleep
in your embrace.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

The Taman Shud Mystery

Major part of our reading phase during school days consisted of a lot of mystery fiction. Most of us must have gone through the Secret Seven --> Five Find Outers-->Famous Five-->Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew-->The Three Investigators-->Poirot & Miss Marple-->Sherlock Holmes phase and one must admit that it is a fascinating journey. As a kid, I always wanted to be a detective and solve murder mysteries. The case that I've mentioned in this note is one that a friend and I had stumbled across in some police journals during that phase and we had tried carrying on our own 'investigations' :P. It's a real case that has remained unsolved for the past 62 years and is clearly one of the strangest cases I've come across and does make you see the light in the 'fact is stranger than fiction' phrase. I met up this friend a few days back and during the course of our conversation; this case again popped up. I thought I should put this up as a FB note because not only does the case fall in the X-files territory but also offers a change from all the poetry that I put up on FB all the time. :P It's a long post but kindly read through the post patiently. It's certainly worth the read.


The Taman Shud Case:

At 6:30 am on December 1st, 1948, a man was found dead under a street lamp on Somerton Beach in Australia.




He seems to have come from nowhere and no one knew anything about him. It's the things we don't know that have been baffling authorities ever since. Including the meaning of the apparently uncrackable secret code he left behind (more on that later).

Things first started to lurch towards the creepy when police noticed that all his clothes' identification marks had been removed. He was found with no visible signs of injury, wearing a suit and no hat. He had a cigarette tucked behind his ear and another one, half smoked, next to his head as if it had fallen out of his mouth.

In his pockets were a used bus ticket to the beach, an unused train ticket to Henley Beach, an American comb, a pack of Juicy Fruit gum, sixpence, an Army Club cigarette pack with Kensitas cigarettes in it, and a box of matches. His body was found 250 meters from where the bus stop apparently let him off.

Apparently, a few people saw him the night before at the same spot- one couple saw him moving his arm around, and another saw him lying motionless on the beach.

The cops were even more startled when the coroner returned with the cause of death: "Sudden, acute onset of damned if I had any idea." The autopsy revealed exceptional health, a half-digested pasty in his stomach, and congestion in his brain and stomach that would have been consistent with poisoning if, you know, they'd found even a trace of poison anywhere in his body. For good measure, his spleen was three times too big.

It was concluded that he most likely died of poisoning, but from what? The Scottish Yard posted this guy’s picture everywhere, but there was no response. They reasoned that the dead man might have been missing local man E.C. Johnson, but then E.C. showed up. Many other possible IDs came up locally, but all were disproved.

Every breakthrough seemed to increase the mystery. A few months later, a suitcase was found at a nearby train station that had been checked in on the morning of Mystery Man’s death. The suitcase’s label was removed, and inside it was a red-checked dressing gown, a pair of slippers, four pairs of underwear, pajamas, shaving gear, a pair of pants with sand in the cuffs, a screwdriver, a stenciling brush, a table knife that had been fashioned into a sharp knife, a pair of scissors, and a package of waxed thread. All the labels on everything had been removed, but on several items of clothing it said “T. Keane”. Police believed that someone purposefully left the Keane tag on the clothes knowing it was not the dead man’s name, because when they searched for T. Keane, they couldn’t find anyone of that name that was missing anywhere in the world. There was one missing sailor named Tom Keane, but friends of his that viewed the body and the suitcase firmly believed that was not their friend.


Police were doing all sorts of searching and theorizing, and had started wondering if the body had been just dumped on the beach, when they found a secret pocket in the man’s pants. Inside the secret pocket, a piece of paper with the words “TAMAN SHUD” typed on it (the words meaning "ended" or "finished").

The text looked like it was a scrap torn from a book. And it turned out it was; from a collection of poems called The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. And not just any Rubaiyat, but a specific translation, and an extremely rare one at that. They released this info to the media, and a man in the town where the body was found came forward, saying that on November 30th, the night before Mystery Man died, he found a copy of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam in the back of his unlocked car, and the final page, which was supposed to read “Taman Shud”, was torn out. Yup, Mystery Man apparently ripped out a page and shoved the book into a random car. The Rubaiyat's last verse, immediately before "Tamam Shud", is


''And when thyself with shining foot shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the grass
And in your joyous Errand reach the Spot
Where I made One - turn down an empty Glass!''

This gets even weirder. Instead of the book having a library card with the dead man's name printed on it or something even a little bit helpful, the book contained the clue that would take the mystery from "spooky" to "creepy".In the back of the book, the cops found this code:




Five sets of seemingly random letters, the second of which is crossed out. So, what does this code tell us? Nothing. Nothing at all. To this day it remains unsolved. So was the code the result of a disturbed mind, or chronic boredom, perhaps? Turns out, no. The most recent attempt to solve the case found the letters aren't random, just some mysterious cipher nobody was familiar with.

There was also a phone number on the book, which was traced to a woman (Jestyn) in the same town who once dated a man who was rumored to be a spy (Alfred Boxall), but that man eventually surfaced, and his copy of the book still had that last page. (But there is a shroud of mystery surrounding the woman which shall be discussed later).

The man was buried, finally, and a strange woman was seen putting flowers on his grave several times. An inmate in New Zealand revealed that he knew the name of the name of the dead man, but it could never be corroborated. Mystery Man has been linked to more spy stuff, so much so that it prompted Australia to create its own anti-espionage task force, the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation.



Possible link to Marshall case:

In June 1945, three years prior to the death of the Somerton Man, a 34 year old Singaporean man named Joseph (George) Saul Haim Marshall was found dead in Mosman, Sydney with an open copy of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam beside him. His death is believed to be a suicide by poisoning. Coincidentally, it is some two months after Marshall's death that Jestyn gives her spy lover a copy of the Rubiayat.

Recent updates on the case:
It has been uncovered that Jestyn (the same mystery woman again) had a son, who was 16-months old in 1948 and died in 2009, may have been a love child of the Somerton Man. It turns out that there might be some truth in this theory. A professor of Anatomy at the University of Adelaide has examined images of the Somerton man's ears and found that the cymba (upper ear hollow) is larger than his cavum (lower ear hollow), a feature possessed by only 1-2% of the caucasian population. The professor also consulted with dental experts who conclude that the Somerton Man had anodontia (a rare genetic disorder) of both lateral incisors, a feature present in only 2% of the general population. In June 2010, the professor obtained a photograph of Jestyn's son that clearly showed his ears and teeth. The photograph shows that the son not only had a larger cymba than his cavum but also anodontia. The chance that this is a coincidence has been estimated as between 1 in 10,000,000 and 1 in 20,000,000.

The identity of the deceased man and even the cause of death remain unsolved to this day.

Results from our 'investigations':


My friend and I made some attempts at deciphering the code and came up with a few possibilities:

1. There are a few stand-out features that you notice immediately on seeing the code:

# The “AB” letter-pair appears four times in the message

# IA appears at least twice

#Several reversed letter-pairs (ST/TS, AI/IA, TM/MT) appear in the message.

2. The second line is crossed through. On closer observation, it seems that the fourth line [MLIABO...] is a corrected version of the deleted second line [MLIAOI], perhaps where the “B” was omitted.

3. The note hidden in the pocket = TAMAM SHUD

The first line of the Cipher = WRGOABABD.



When we put the code line back wards and match it with the ‘Key’ phrase, we get:


D B A B A O G R W
T A M A M S H U D

The ” BABA ” sequence seems to be lining up with the ” AMAM ” which might help us to decipher the rest of the code..

4. Turning possibility no. 3 on its head; the message might not actually be a cipher; rather it might be a half-successful attempt to decode a message that was written in German. People who have knowledge of German might agree with my hypothesis which is based on the following observations:

-->The sequence “SAMSTGA” in line 4 is very similar to the German word “Samstag” (Saturday).

-->In line 1, the sequence MRGO is similar to the German word “Morgen” (which can mean either “tomorrow” or “morning”), and the sequence ABD is similar to “Abend” (evening). There’s also the sequence “AB” between those two elements, which is also a German word (“from”, in the sense of marking the beginning of a timespan). So, the sequence “MRGOABABD” looks quite similar to “Morgen ab abend” (tomorrow, from evening on).

--> I do agree that it might be a complete coincidence but the hypothesis holds some water for the following reasons:

i) All three words specify a time.
ii) Specifying times or meeting points is a very common usage of coded messages.
iii) The missing characters in the two words in line 1 are identical for both words (MRGO -> MORGen, ABD -> ABenD, missing characters in lower-case)
iv) The two mispositioned characters are both vowels, and appear both at the end of their respective word (O in MRGO, A in SAMSTGA).
v) All this takes place in a message of 44 characters. The chance of finding this by coincidence in a message so short seems rather small.
vi) The letter x above the O in line 3 can be seen as an alternate decoding considered by the decoder. (“I think that’s an O, but it also might be an X”.)
vii.) There is insecurity among researchers whether the first written character in lines 1 and 2 is a W or an M. The letter’s ambiguity can be seen as an insecurity on part of the writer about whether he had decoded the character correctly. There’s also the possibility that he wrote one of the letters first and then corrected that into the other letter.

One must admit though that considering the mystery surrounding this case; one can come up with infinite number of possibilities and none will ever have any substantial proof for us to satisfactorily conclude that the case has been solved. Damn! If we could only put ACP Pradyuman on the case :(


Abhijeet: Mmmmy Gawwwd...
ACP: Yahan pe toh laash hai!
Daya:Sir yeh toh marr gaya
ACP: O_o

Have a good day! :D

Sunday, November 21, 2010

A Foot Full of Splinters

Another one of those random, impromptu scribbles. Not expecting too comments for this one.



I see a strip of sand,
Pebbled at the point where land meets the sea.
And a sea contoured in shingle.
Umpteen quartz dune on the shore,
Crest and troughs,
And an hour glass in the horizon
Running out on time.
A time of purple clouds,
Suspended hopes,
and a fading rainbow.
With a quiet adieu
The sun goes down
My thoughts saunter back
With a foot full of splinters.

Friday, October 8, 2010

The Unsung Song..

I don't expect too many likes or comments for this poem. It is one of my unconventional poems which is playing around with words and the theme.



A song stays undone,
With no tune, it stood unsung.
A forgotten echo, reverberates from afar,
But nay shall I tune it, let it stay unsung.

The tune did hum; a memory quivered on my lips,
A distant tinnitus; sung with your voice afresh,
Our heads then moved in a sprightly trance,
We crooned a duet of our ballad undone.

Under the gulmohar tree, saffron clothed in spring,
Lying on your lap, writing our lines; nay not prim,
Tuned I the last line, in moods that ebbed from your heart,
Of this undone poem, ever after unsung song.

Sung with voices, in dissonance it came,
Tears frosted; a hazy mist on glass.
Discord creeping, rusted the wet violins strings,
Made the song unsung, and all undone.

In solitude, as I sung those lines in brooding pain,
I found the lines to our poem undone.
But I just left it, fading written with an inkless pen,
Etched; painful acrid vinegar’s sting, for we now not one,
And it froze as a poem undone, with a tune unsung.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

The little star..

Lately, I've been receiving mails from readers saying that I'm only focusing on social issues or experimental poetry and I've completely stopped writing and posting simple, rhyming poems. Well; this poem is an attempt to assuage those reservations :)



Over the hills in the sky so blue,
Gleams a star so pure and true.
In royal company of the majestic moon,
She waits for night all through noon.

In days glorious, she fails to gleam
A mere speck, in the sunny beam.
She envies the sun, his might vast
Reign supreme, forever to last.

When night falls and the owl screams,
The world sleeps, with velvet dreams
Croons the star, in a sparkling lilt
With rainbow jewels, a blushing tilt.

All night through, she smiles and sings
Jumps about in her dazzling wings.
Her friends then dance, fingers entwine,
A constellation they make, a sight divine.

When the sun comes up, they flee for life
For the furious being, teems with strife.
Assures the star, "There's none to fear,
Again we'll shine, when the night is here...”

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Lust- A Haiku necklace

I was going through my old posts and I realised that the last time I posted a haiku was almost 18 months back!!! So I thought I'll post a haiku necklace(Haikus stringed like pearls to form a poem) to make up for all the haikus I should have posted in the last year and a half.

For those who are new to the land of Haikus - Haiku is a Japanese lyric form that has seventeen syllables, arranged in 3 lines of 5/7/5 syllables each; usually invoking an aspect of nature or the seasons.
It consists of two sentences, separated by a puntuation mark, and usually, the last line holds a sort of key to the verse, a point to drive home so to speak.It is usually build around the beauty and feelings depicted by nature.



Ivy creeps and twines,
Your body is close to mine,
I'll not let thee go!

Grapes sweeten thy lips,
Succulent,smooth,temptous red,
O what thirst I feel.

Bosoms heave in heat,
Mangoes ripened calls me near,
On them soon I feast.

Twilight plays on skin,
Your navel licked; then I kissed.
Clenched your toes in haste.


Blissful moans I hear,
As I merge,blend into ye,
Drenched in passions rain.

Cool mist gentle touched,
Our bodies on green moss laid,
Thus this Haiku ends.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Our Symphony


Beating of your heart,
Rhythm of my pulse.

Flutter of your eyelashes,
Melody of my breathing.

Tingle in your spine,
Quiver on my lips.

Whisper of your eyes,
Murmur of my soul.

Your pleasurable sigh,
My passionate moan.

Our world.
Our symphony.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

An incomplete rendezvous



I saw a painting hung on the wall,
A girl and a boy.
Coloured with black and white
Grey leaves and a grass portrait.
Nimble toes and taut shin.
Doe-eyed girl, her flowing tresses,
The boy entangled in the tumbling twirls.
Both draped in muslin with fragile love.
Black bamboos lurking with fear,
Ominous milieu and a smile rinsed with tear.
Elusive feelings with silence so near
Stenciled silhouette wafted into the night.
With spirit and sinew, he gave it his all,
Holding her close, bare arms and a naked fall
His moonlit face and her timid lips,
Beaded dewdrops could steal a kiss.
But the breeze played truant, and the curtains drew
On an incomplete rendezvous.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

When you bury me..



Lay me not; in coffins of mahogany red, or golden brown,
Nor in caskets of ebony; shiny, and chocolate dark,
Cover me nay in shrouds; intricate with designs, embroidered in silver threads,
But in a coffin of cheap old wood, covered in a white spun cloth let me sleep.

Take me not; as ashes in pots painted with fabric golden paints,
Or cremate me in fires burning yellow, with fragrance rich of sandalwoods,
Flow nay thee; my remains in currents and waters of holy Ganges’ charm,
Burn me with dry rubber wood, and flow me in a nameless, sweet gurgling stream so small.

Make not please; an ivory tomb flawless in thy love for me,
Or a garden laden with flowers, and lush green grass smiling at the place where I lay,
Nay come ye; with colorful bouquets, or garlands to adorn, on the day or time I died,
Let me sleep now, with neither threads nor strings attached,
Interred with my bones, in an unmarked place.

Bury me not; underneath cold polished granite tombs,
Neither beside smooth white marble engraved headstones,
Nor in my family grave, with epitaphs inscribed in praise of me.
Let me lie; beneath an unmarked grave,
In the bright shining sun, and nights chilling starry skies,
Unkempt green grass, and touch me not weeds growing wildly over me,
Six feet deep, sleeping, dreaming and lying still,
Till my soul flies off, and my body putrid goes.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Psalm of Peace-Cascade Poetry

Another experiment with poetry and this time it is Cascade poetry, a form created by Udit Bhatia, which is all about receptiveness, but in a smooth cascading way like a waterfall. The poem does not have any rhyme scheme; therefore, the layout is simple.
Say the first verse has three lines. Line one of verse one becomes the last line of verse two. To follow in suit, the second line of verse one becomes the last line of verse three. The third line of verse one now becomes the last line of verse four, the last stanza of the poem. See the structure example below:

a/b/c, d/e/A, f/g/B, h/i/C

To make the Cascade an even longer poem, use more lines in verse one. For example, if verse one has 6 lines, the poem must have seven stanzas so that each line of verse one is reused as a refrain in each following stanza (a cascading effect).




Ruthless mayhem if cast away,
Swords and guns; inhumed in lost graves,
Hands binding; sing the psalm of peace,
‘Shalom’ – greet each other with ease.

Children playful in unity,
Saplings nourished in fruitful harmony,
Zion heavenly; planet Earth shall be,
Ruthless mayhem if cast away.

Nations ushered; beneath one banner,
Tongues and races dissolved with peace,
Prosperity reigning then naturally,
Swords and guns; inhumed in lost graves.

Religions dwelling in mutual bliss,
Respecting each other and God faithfully,
‘Praises Adonai’, rising in one voice,
Hands binding; sing the psalm of peace.

Greed and hateful spite redeemed,
Tolerant humans, cleansed by torrent rain,
Anew, hopeful tranquil life in peace,
‘Shalom’- greet each other with ease.


P.S.: I've used two jewish words in this poem; the meanings of which are mentioned below:

Shalom: Peace
Adonai: God

Friday, February 26, 2010

The fallen pride



Amidst the branches of a sycamore tree,
Sprouted a new leaf, a very fine leaf.
Covered in shades of lustrous green,
She swayed in pride, with her sheen pristine.

Across a loose twig on the very same tree,
Aged an old leaf, lone in her tremulous trill.
Cloaked in a russet, she too sang her song,
Rustling amongst others in the springtime breeze.

One bright morning as the great sun shined,
Smirked the new leaf, at the aging one.
Mockingly, she giggled at the lonely leaf,
As she rubbed her coat, and shined in the rising sun.

Nay! Laugh ye, O my lovely little one,
For I was once a leaf, more charmed than ye.
Time and autumn but soon shall hail,
Erode us both, and be shed by our mother tree.

Soon a lumberjack’s axe did fall,
Out on a branch of the very same tree,
Fell our new leaf, bleeding to the ground,
Bruised, trodden- her pride had proven costly.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Love story of Sand and Sea..



Liquid sapphire married the cerulean sky,
Bond awesome, yet longingly she cried for me.
Far away I lay down sprawled across the beach,
Shore they call me- A poet lost in sad sleep.

All day long wailing from horizon’s abode,
Wave’s frothy kisses drench me, in her love white.
Brimming love when I etch, as poems on wet sands,
Splashing she washes, tearfully scared of sky’s might.

Sky darkened, clouds thunder as he knew our love,
Whips of lightning strikes my beloved’s brow.
Anger raging, my love lashes herself on cliffs,
Tried to kill herself; but thought of me then quit.

Crimson dusk seeping; tired now sky sleeps.
Yearning, gentle with love her tides on me softly creep.
Simmering in warmth of passion, as we made out,
Subtle moans echoed- my lips inscribed poems on her.

Morning smiled; arose the clear blue sky,
Dissolving, longing yet another day of wait.
Seagulls flying, cooing in tune to our nights song,
I’ll be here; coarse sands basked- fast dear come tonight!

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

A letter from the past...

Sundays are always reserved for cleaning up my room, cupboard and drawers and rummaging through my drawers always brings up some memorabilia that touches a raw nerve somewhere . I love keeping notes, letters, old photographs, cards and other stuff (which might seem like junk to other people) but never fail to bring back old memories. Today, I came across this really old letter that I had written for a loved one after we had decided to part our ways. My handwriting seems so different in this letter and it seems even more ancient because it has been written with an ink pen. Some of the words have faded and the letter seems all frayed with creases because of the numerous times that I have unfolded, read and then re-folded the letter to keep it back inside the envelope. I'm posting certain parts of the letter here because I felt like sharing it...

Incidentally, the letter was never read by the person whom it was written for. She sent back the letter without reading it :)



Sweetheart,


It's rightly said that you don’t know what you have until its gone. It’s also rightly said that words are a poor medium of expression. But I’ll still try to pen down those things that I could never express and which were left unsaid. How I wish time had stood still! How I wish you had heard the unsaid! How I wish that life wasn't so unfair! How I wish we could hold hands and live our dream again!How I wish I could be there when you really needed me! How I wish I could say that ‘sorry’ when it really mattered! How I wish I could take back those harsh words that I had spoken! How I wish I could give you that hug during all those lonely times! How I wish I could listen to the music of the stars with you again! How I wish I could whisper those ‘magical words’ when you really wanted to hear them!How I wish I could show you that you are my only one! How I wish I knew then that love is not just about caring, but also about sharing! How I wish I could get you to stay back when you loved me! How I wish I hadn’t been so blind to your true feelings! How I wish I had said and done those little things that really matter! How I wish I could undo all those things that went wrong! How I wish I had told you how happy I was that you were mine! How I wish I could see that warmth in your eyes again! How I wish you knew you were always on my mind! How I really wish I had spoken my silence in words…


Anyway, I won’t drag this letter too much. I won’t make it more difficult for you by talking about old memories. This letter is just a confession. A confession of my regret and a confession of my undying love. You must be wondering why I’m not sitting beside you while you’re reading this letter and watching you read. It’s because I’ve realized that I’ve wronged you and what would be worse would be to force you to come back, so I’ve left my silence and absence with you wrapped in this envelope until you wish to come back to me. I can only hope that you always remember me, remember us and the special bond that we shared. And as years go by, our paths will get separated, we might drift apart completely and we might never meet again, but if you ever think of me, will you remember that I love you very much?


Wishing you all the best in life,
Your Superman

Thursday, November 12, 2009

A costly city kiss..

Again, an attempt at something different :) I've tried to capture the New York nightlife of the yesteryears. The kind of nightlife that I've only read in books written by American authors like O.Henry. His 'The Cop and the Anthem' being a perfect example of that. This poem is dedicated to O.Henry, the man who introduced me to the beautiful world of witty short stories with the characteristic O.Henry twist ending :)




Shielding maddening spheres of life,
Idling melancholic needles of time,
Dwindling stress in remote corners behind,
Whistled away blues in the jazz of a pub.

Midnight calling of cathedral chimes,
Saxophone roars a sore penultimate tune.
5 Dollars on amber beer and ashen smoke,
Laden yet; Graven misery and growing paunch.

Gothic lovers lost in central park,
Snorting snuff and ringed tongues entwined,
Buxom harlots tempt beneath helium bright,
Pampering loners treading in city’s lights.

Fencing thoughts and gusty gale so might,
Waddling solitary in streets silvery white,
A feeling electric; suddenly arose alive,
As hands feminine grasped on mine tonight.

Shielding her from the flakes of snow,
An angel; Nay lady one of vibrant sight.
Feminine musk of vanilla blossoms myriad,
Brought coziness into my canopy’s delight.

She kissed; then merged onto subway crowd,
Happiness crept the barracks of my spine,
Feminity- thou art truly creations elixir,
Realized it vagrant; when groped purse same night.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

A Bumblebee's brush with death

Ok, I've tried my hand at something different here. It even has a moral that God cares for all his creations. I hope you like this poem. :)



Tangled in a wide spider web,
Struggled a big fat bee;
It buzzed and kicked in all its might,
But was sprawled in the cobwebs maze.

Far across, from a distant pole,
He saw those mighty legs;
Death crawling, with creepy eyes,
He knew of his helplessness.

Cornered, looked the poor sad bee,
Far into natures face;
The flowers blossomed in joy of spring,
Beckoned him all in glee.

Desired; yellow and brown stripped bee,
To fly in his state of bliss;
Kiss fresh daffodils in prime of spring,
And dance with his friends in hives.

Came the hairy giant spider,
Dressed in green fluorescent daze;
Poison glistening from her fangs,
She cocooned the fear filled bee.

Depressed, seeing the lush green grass,
Laid our beige sweet bee;
Poison surging through his veins,
He sat stiff; for impending death.

Soon, out from space somewhere,
Came forth the gardener’s hand;
Lashed his tool at the cobweb there,
And soon free, was our fine sweet bee.
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Poetry by Wandering Gypsy is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.