Li'l Scribbles: heart

Showing posts with label heart. Show all posts

Life in Boxes

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8th July 2019

Life in boxes

one house to another

Life in boxes

One home to another

Some stuff were broken

Some things were abandoned

Somethings we acquired new

But I was me and you were you

Life in boxes

One house to another

Life in boxes

One home to another

Where are my books?

Where is that yellow pan?

My diary, my pen – there they are

But something’s missing, where you are?

This one thing is not here

This one thing is not found

This one thing, I need, I must,

This one thing got lost in the round

Life in boxes

one house to another

Life in boxes

One home to another

Where is that boo to my bibiddi bobidi?

Where is that thing that turns my key?

Where is that?

It’s in a box

Wrapped in bubble

Travelling the abyss of time

Time travellers. Ahoy!

Mother to twins!

2^nd March 2016

I’m a mother to twins, now.

8 months ago it was Rumi, my little pup.

And now I have three!

Sometimes it seems unbelievable. Like a hazy reality it dawns on me with creeping irritation caused by sleeplessness and physical pain. It strikes true as the cloud of the overwhelmed feeling envelopes me and rains incessantly.

Sometimes the feeling of a soft cheek on mine feels like heaven. Through all the pain I smile and laugh and sing songs to keep every bit of sadness away from my li’l ones. And the rhythm of two heartbeats on my chest gives me bliss.

Naina and Kanishk. My little ones. My little little ones.

They already have so much within them. I’m amazed! I understand now that motherhood is not about teaching but about learning from the babies. They have so much in them already. Their personality, behavior, character and traits are forming as I write this. I’m no one to interfere in that process. I can just help guide that into the right routes. This responsibility seems too great as of now.

Well this piece was supposed to be a conversation with myself. It’s sounding too deep already. Maybe I should try another one afresh on a lighter note.

it flows again

18th January 2015

so it flows again
slowly, it hesitates.
stops and then starts again.
its been a long time
so it hesitates
but it flows again.

the pierced.
the wound.
had bettered
not healed.
it trickles again.

don't. don't. don't be hard.
don't push it. it's gentle. it's vulnerable. it'll crumble. yet again.

it be said. it's been said. it be said again.
eternal cycles of flood and drought reign and will do so.
sometimes more. sometimes less.
but always something. always something.
never nothing. never nothing.
always something.

The Calling

December '2014

I sat on the beach with my legs sunk in sand and chin on my knees
wearing a veil of hair
having a conversation with the ocean.
He was luring me, teasing me, inviting me.
He was succeeding.
He made me want to walk into his arms,
just right into him,
deeper and deeper still.

I didn't care if I couldn't breathe.
I didn't care if I would drown.
I didn't care at all.
Who listens to their heads when their hearts ruled?

It wasn't the first time.
He had come knocking onto my window with rain,
had played with my hair and driven me mad.

He left messages everywhere.
In small glass bottles with cork heads
he'd sent me love spells
sometimes as sand, sometimes as salt candies and sometimes even poetry.

The voodoo worked.
With white champas adorning my hair
I danced slowly into him
and he welcomed me with a roar and wave.

I got wet...
...never to dry again.

in search of self

Dec ' 2014

acrylic on canvas

with my heart in my hand
I sail the universe
sometimes tiding the sea
sometimes deep beneath

I see a hundred million suns
I see a new world beneath after rock bottom
I see everything as one

the love within me
is the cosmic one
and the cosmos is me

I'm an insignificant speck in the universe
but as significant as the whole universe

the truth is
there are
worlds
within worlds
to the power of infinity
both ways
plus
or minus

Let it be

November '2014

let me be, just let me be..

I'm me, not you, not your expectations..
everyone's themselves, just let them be..

If you have no kindness, no consideration, no heart..
forever hold your tongue, just shut the fuck up..

What makes you think you're more important than the soul beside you?

We're all insignificant..
or we're all significant..

No grades, no ladders, no marks..

let it be.
let it go.

Do not be afraid.

Things Fall Apart

22nd January '14

This book is a masterpiece... atleast for me. Can't wait to start on the #2 of the trilogy.

Brings alive old Nigeria and its rich culture just before its colonization. And when the conflict comes about, it's not only a conflict between two religions, but between a lot of aspects, incomparable aspects - way of existence, richness in history, identity, roots, beliefs & so much more....

“There is no story that is not true, [...] The world has no end, and what is good among one people is an abomination with others.”

The patriarch Okonkwo's dilemmas, decisions and actions give a feel of insecurity, strength, pride, failure, need for approval and recognition and sketches a portrait of a man who believes what is taught to him and puts his might into bettering his situation, not without his weak moments though.

“Perhaps down in his heart Okonkwo was not a cruel man. But his whole life was dominated by fear, the fear of failure and of weakness.It was deeper and more intimate that the fear of evil and capricious gods and of magic, the fear of the forest, and of the forces of nature, malevolent, red in tooth and claw. Okonkwo’s fear was greater than these. It was not external but lay deep within himself.”

What was really interesting and heart-warming are the snippets of old Igbo sayings, stories and songs.

“Mosquito [...] had asked Ear to marry him, whereupon Ear fell on the floor in uncontrollable laughter. "How much longer do you think you will live?" she asked. "You are already a skeleton." Mosquito went away humiliated, and any time he passed her way he told Ear that he was still alive.”

I agree, Calvin

7th October '13

yellow sipper mugs
and orange ink
thoughts that trail in meetings
the silent bell for lunch rings

funny faces and looks across the room
listening, but I'm still not here
here, but I'm not listening still

' agree, Calvin
reality continues to ruin my life too

Li'l red package

13 Aug '13

Chugging journey
Leaves behind smoke in a trail of small grey clouds
All aboard but my li'l red package left behind.

Oh my package
My li'l red.
Ur loss is wreckage
Oh lament.
My li'l's now dead
To me.

I can't see the green fields.
Oh!
I can't see the windmill.
Oh ho!
I can't see the birds on wire in a row.

My li'l's lost forever
To me.

It was packed in polka yellow
And smelled like a garden of roses.
White ribbons bow tied
Fell in twirled bunches.
So many li'l hearts
Pasted all over my li'l red.

Oh, my Red!
I miss you so
It wells me up.

These tracks go on for miles and more
These tracks go on for miles and more

I'll find another heart
Bind it with wind
Lace it with golden daffodils
Spray with sunset red.

Another red. Another day. Another life.
Look outside the window.
Sent on my BlackBerry® from Vodafone

www.shreejawrites.blogspot.com

in passing

11^th August ‘11

Out of sight. Out of mind.

Does this hold true? Maybe to a certain degree. But that necessarily doesn’t mean that the subject is not tucked somewhere in some very fond corner of the heart, to come up to the mind aimlessly, like a song from an oblivious, infinite playlist in shuffle mode.

I really don’t truly believe in the randomness of the shuffle mode. I think there’s a definite pattern there, somewhere. Probably again, known to the higher mind, the great strategist or the omnipresent. I can sometimes guess the complicated flowchart of the pattern, but don’t know a way of validating my doubts. Do the psychology experts know?

Life emanating of me

Images springing and dancing and jumping off a cliff

A face leaving the trail of its thought behind

Lazy working days full of restless ideas

Commute amidst many, through several modes.

a drive, a tube, an escalator, a tunnel,

a rickshaw, a meter, a subway, a walk,

a bus, a conductor, a stop, some stairs..

a journey, an exchange, some time,

just a wee bit of life.

I donno who lives inside me anymore?

21st July '11

Someone speaks from inside me....
The words I've spoken echo in my ears..
And I wonder who said them?

Not one, not two, but many of them pull the strings, tug at them...
And not one of them is me.
If you can hear a faint sigh, a murmur of approval, a vehement no or a silent tear roll down, that could be me.

Before dawn ramblings

7th January '11

coming back
is desired
coming back
isn't easy
coming back
pains.

I write to you in verse
situation of my heart
which has a lot of love to give
but, there's a but in between.

Memories they play these games
take you back, again and again.
a simple day, some hours,
some conversations, some exploration..
a friendship we embarked
but we never saw where we really arrived
before parting.

Moon's Lullabye

last year's October's writing
October 1st '10

Moons' Lullabye
a bed of stars
a world of twinkling dreams
and my lover got lost

In the midst of the wilderness
my heart longed
for a straying lock
for a deep caress

the long lost notes haunt the sitar
the last kiss lingers venomously on lips
fingers restless
for you, the one whose not there

the bed of stars
spreads across the sky
the courtyard watches silently