Samundar poppies ka


25th June ‘09
Poppies ke samundar mein
My heart goes sha la la la
Head goes bobbing, drugged
Majh dhara mei hai bera mera
Kripa kara asrai hai tera

p.s.- Mr. A Ghosh weaves magic yet again. smiles.

26 years later

18th June’09

Tipsy movements and a steady hand

Writes introspection of a jumbled mind

Not so jumbled, a li’l suave.

Knows the destination, has lost the way.

In the moment, get weird pangs.

Skies the limit, loves the smell of ground.

Has wings, lost the realization somehow.

Loves thy god, is unsure about self.

Lost somewhere…

She sits under a white square with a three armed rotating metal hanging down the middle, slightly elevated by a wooden structure, which humans call bed and wonders. Is this where she, a female of the human form of Indian origin is destined to be where she is, exactly?

growing up

11th June '09


6 days.

I’ll be two and six.

26.

Still don’t feel lady enough. Still am more of a girl than a woman. In some ways, still a guy. But I’ve come a long way since last year.

Am ok with this year’s progress

God job, Shreeja!

Muah

Small World

8th June '09
Come forward my darling
Take another step
Just another step
We're almost there
To the world which begins and ends in our tent
We call, Oh yeah! we're there..
It's a small world
And the universe climaxes in its grasp
It's a small world
And two souls fill it up

4th June ‘09

DRIFTS
Drop by Drop
Drip by Drip
It Drifts
Pull it along
A circle upon another
More circles upon each other
It goes on and on
It Drfits
Drip by Drip
Drop by Drop

LIFE love
High on love
Spirit’s dwindle
Life’s but a memory bundle
Stacked and stacked
Rolled and tied
Pull out the dirty ones
They rot
Oh!
They stink

WILTING PETALS
The eyes refuse to open
To see the written words
In a blink the world went dark……
Shocked open
The dropping petals
Watch the dream unopen
In disbelief

EXTREMELY MODERATE/ MODERATELY EXTREME
What drives the melancholy
Whenever the ink flows
It isn’t such a strain
Still this is what it shows…
Extreme was I
Still extreme but moderated
The ecstasy of the poles
Somewhere lost in the tropics

THE ENDS
Zig-zag trails
The paths wind
What’s there on the other end
I cannot fathom….
Light, I hope
Light, it is
Light of hope
It is, It is


100.5 DEGREES
The pain slowly sets in
The fever begins to tremble
It’s not what you think it is
It’s what you may imagine not
Not food, not thought, not lifestyle
It’s the words, the poetry
It’s in the mind.