Flames – Orange Poppies

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I am fascinated by Georgia O’Keefe’s paintings. Sensual portrayal of flowers is indeed the essence of art for me and in a way observing the birth of life on this earth. I try to photograph flowers in my own humble way, inspired by her work which those who know will know.

 

Just sharing a few lines of my own poetry here tonight. Hope you enjoy!

 

Woman

Woman.

Like an instrument.

Play her right

She is a melody to the ears.

Play her wrong

She is a nuisance to all.

And if you don’t know how to play her

Don’t bother keeping her.

A thing of beauty,

A joy forever.

Untouched and unowned.

Unaffected and unmaligned.

Simple Words

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Pollinators taken a few years back when the lavender fields were in full bloom in Snowshill.

Taking this opportunity to share a poem of mine that got featured on Poetizer as Poem of the Day. Hope you like it 🙂

 

 

   Simple Words

 

I sit in my garden for a respite

From hungry mouths and unguarded minds

Don’t get me wrong, I’m one like my own

Talking to trees and flowers

The only art I know

A swift of the white breast of a magpie

And philanderer bees seeking for the sweetest nectar

They come to me on my own

Like a sweet lullaby,

A caress of the wind of

Clouds that move south.

I sit and dream of that cottage by the lake

Where unto mortality I shall ripe

No cacophony of my own ilk to grind

Just me and myself and the rustle of leaves

Bidding time a goodbye.

Violet Reminders

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Today, I would like to share a few verses written by yours truly, inspired by my walk in the garden. I had planted and lost, and not cared and still won . That is what nature has taught me this year. To be patient. To be resilient. Hope you like what I have written.

 

 

I planted yesterday in my garden

Some hopes and

Purple dahlias.

And today they are sweetly usurped by

Little pale pink dreams I do not know

The name of.

Dainty and wild 

like some of us.

Virgin blush enchanting the naked eye.

 But their love for their mother remains like none.

Because they remember me in the wet lands,

Giving birth to 

Amethyst stillborns.

 

Pensive Peony

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Do Peonies reflect the mood of their owners? Maybe yes, maybe not. Clearly this one is a dreamer like me. Missing the season of beautiful peonies, but hey it’s just a phase!

 

Sharing a beautiful verse with you today- an excerpt from ” I Heard God Laughing- Poems of Hope and Joy” Renderings of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky.

 

My Brilliant Image

 

One day the sun admitted,

I am just a shadow.

I wish I could show you

The Infinite Incandescence (Tej)

That has cast my brilliant image!

I wish I could show you,

When you are lonely or in darkness,

The Astonishing Light

Of your own Being!

 

 

Doleful Sunflowers

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Sometimes, just about sometimes, even sunflowers look better in black, white and shades of grey. These colours enhance the depth and melancholy adding a character to the picture. The scene. The mood. Which can be inspiring. Which can be poetic.

I am currently reading Edna St. Vincent Millay’s poetry and I am quite obsessed with sharing her wistful words all around, everywhere I can! So I am not surpassing this chance to share a doleful poem of hers here.

If you’re feeling blue, gray and dark, marinate in it. Breathe and seek for the reason. The lesson. And arise to feel alive again. After all, a film of tear always improves the clarity of your vision.

 

SORROW by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sorrow like a ceaseless rain

Beats upon my heart.

People twist and scream in pain, –

Dawn will find them still again;

This has neither wax nor wane,

Neither stop nor start.

People dress and go to town;

I sit in may chair.

All my thoughts are slow and brown:

Standing up or sitting down

Little matters, or what gown

Or what shoes I wear.

 

 

 

Bliss

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I have always held a lifelong love for flowers and an, if not earlier, but an equal love for poetry.

I have not been upto much as far as my blog is concerned, and I am guilty as charged for not maintaining one regularly, despite paying for my own site.

Life can get monotonous, as we all know, and we all need something exciting to keep us from drowning in this vast ocean.

Truth be told, I am tired of social media, where nothing but rat race and fallacy happens. The sole happiness I get these days is, when I get out into my garden, when the sun decides to bless and shine, breathe in the breeze wafting from the woods, and observe the wildlife in my garden. Every year, I have different wildflowers growing in my garden. This year I was in for a pleasant surprise, when there were bright orange California poppies cheering at me amidst all the lush green.

Nature coupled with words is nothing short of bliss for me. Therefore, I have decided to make my blog all about flowers and poetry, if not mine, somebody’s with due credits. So if you love flowers, and nature photography generally, then welcome aboard to my abode. Hope you will enjoy it as much as I will! 🙂

Banyan Tree

Banyan Tree

Heartless Heaves

Headless bangs

Muscle and bones

Tightly wound together.

Soldier comrades in this battlefield

You and I.

 

 

You shouldn’t fall,

I shouldn’t slip.

 

Like a unit we grew.

An age old banyan tree.

Roots up above,

Like giant exposed nerves.

Holiest shade of all, testament to time.

 

Frail I am,

Fragile you are,

Tears- shed and those not,

Smear the I in the me.

Laminating us into

A cocoon,

A stillborn in vivo.

 

My respite are my words,

Your respite is my bosom,

Thin arms holding a strong strong heart.

I thought I knew you

Nine months ahead of any,

The audacity I chose

A grand jest for many.

 

I watch you slip into slumber

Outside my womb,

This time.

Where I wish I held you forever,

The dark dungeons in me.

My swollen feet carried us miles

While you hibernated inside me, dear child.

All alone, but never lonely,

Fears everywhere, but never scary.

 

We will chart a map to sail together

and draw

Our own blueprint of hope.

For you to see the world,

Mine, being the awe in your eyes

As the sun sets for a new dawn.

 

You are the only one

After all,

Who knows the voice of my heart

From inside.

 

 

For my autistic wonder boy-  Accept. Understand.Love.

Woman

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Woman.

Like an instrument.

Play her right

She is a melody to the ears.

Play her wrong

She is a nuisance to all.

And if you don’t know how to play her

Don’t bother keeping her.

A thing of beauty,

A joy for forever.

Untouched and unowned.

Unaffected and unmaligned.

Lump of Flesh

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Lump of flesh,

Adhered to fabric that connects

And disconnects

Not like the skin, yet second skin.

 

Lump of flesh,

It moves apparently

And sometimes forgets

Like a killing notion, it breathes.

 

Lump of flesh,

Leaping into a pool of love.

And like a cliffhanger orgasm

Left suspended and detached,

Between reality and the alternate

Felt inside.

 

Lump of flesh,

Oh enough with this!

It perceives its joints, juices,

Holes and moles- and realises

It’s a piece meant for pawn

On a dead man’s table.

Sunshine

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I touch not, the skin of God.

Soul of the child my womb bore.

Eyes doorways to heaven,

Laughter orchestrating the universe.

Thoughts, hand in hand, ours,

The heart that learned music from mine.

A thousand times over let me be ill

And deprived.

A thousand times over let me fake a smile or

Take one.

To give you the hope,

To give you a home.