Flames – Orange Poppies

20191013_20144120191012_131633

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

20180707_123114

 

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

20191009_13304920191009_132707

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

IMG_20191001_055838_052

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

IMG_20191006_155137_22420191006_083621.jpg

 

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.

 

 

 

Lump of Flesh

20190419_192949

 

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.

You

img_20190119_145548_709

 

Choose a path

Even when stumbling through

The blinding darkness of a night in the jungle.

 

Choose a path

Even when swimming in

An ocean full of currents.

 

Choose a path

Even when walking through the garden maze

Of friends and families who forget you

In the throes of their celebrations.

 

Choose a path

Even when doubt appears more comfortable

Than your good old friend

Belief.

 

Choose a path

When riding through the dimming haze of a mysterious fog,

Or the furious rage of an uncalled sandstorm.

 

But always choose

That path,

That breaks all these barriers,

To come to You,

And only be Yours.

 

Choose a path

That Becomes Yours,

That Becomes

You.

 

 

Tulips

20190108_152746

The sun shined a brilliant blaze through my

Glass doors today,

Shifting this mind numbing daze built in the column of my living,

With aeons of flying shed dust

That refuse to sediment in the murky waters of time.

 

As if God stood as a guest in guise outside our humble hearth.

Tears of brilliance and reverence in my eyes.

Maybe there is some one I could love

Far and close, near and away.

 

It is winter with no blooms to cheer you

In my withering gardens,Sweetheart.

They are as gray and sullen

As this season after feasts and bygone goodbyes.

As I gave the last of my mirths to

Strangers of blood and not.

But there are songs of robins and sparrows and whatever of them,

Still care to sweeten my

Ember of a soul.

Singing in gratitude of nature and time

And better days to come by

Because ’tis a beautiful one.

Today.

 

Last night I withered through the storms with

A wayward bough hitting the windows and door,

Like a petrified orphan.

And I thought of those obstinate kisses

I once wished for as much as the

Embrace that would not let go off my

Ill, rebel of a being.

Maybe, before I move to a better loved home?

 

For now, I have, however, some rainbow tulips

In a vase waiting for a Lover’s gaze

To unfurl every petal and drench his

Thirst for youth, colour and all that can be used up and ruminated.

Like an abuse you spew out of your mouth in terrible heat

Of your heart.

 

Come if you may, to sit by the fire.

Tell me some stories of yours, ours, what ifs and

Those that can never be heard.

Hold my hand, as fragile as the skin above my veins.

Dont let it go off,

Not even in an absent thought.

Because I can

With all that I have.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hand in Hand.

20190101_150843

Do not be afraid of the dark, my love.

 

It is darkness that reveals the elusive light,

Wherever she may be.

It is darkness that hides all the gold and secrets

Of this world, in her chalice of bearing.

It is darkness where the Gods we worship,

Live a life of mystery.

 

It is darkness that makes a human out of a,

Zygote.

It is darkness that makes a tree out of a,

Seed.

It is darkness that makes a saint out of a,

Seeker.

It is darkness that makes a butterfly out of a,

Caterpillar.

It is darkness that makes a spring out of a,

Winter.

 

Maybe the moon, the object of night’s desire

Looks like a mere shadow of the ostentatious sun

Up above, when they meet

To smile at the show below.

But remember,

When the sun seeks water

To set a day,

It is the sea that seeks the moon

To celebrate the night.

 

Do not be afraid of the dark, my love.

Do not be afraid.

 

 

Time

IMG_20161219_201721

 

It is time to say goodbye to another

Time we welcomed with warmth and hope.

By remembering that glorious sunrise.

 

Time that stands testament to games of dice

Between truth and lies.

 

Time that kills us slowly like wine

That ages as patiently as us,

Nestled in her shrine.

 

Time,

You sodden column of death and dust

You hurt us with the old

As much as heal with the hope of something new.

 

Time,

She is that old lover

Who forgives but does not forget.

She chose to leave you

But remembers when you clawed her

Heart out with a mere whisper of another era.

 

All us babies will sing of our unpigmented loyalty to time

Tonight.

“Tomorrow will be better and happier”.

An cuss to her ears.

 

Well who am I not to abide,

I am as much a sinner as the other one beside.

So remember it like a gentle sad sigh.

Tomorrow is your friend

If you know she can be your foe

In fleeting beats hereby.