Poetic Ponders
Happy
Artist :Jane L. Petitjean www.ebsqart.com
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Float...as light as a feather
The sun shines sun-smiles
Resplendent the verdant awash
Trees blushes green with joy
The winds swift, shift...swirl...lift
Your arms outstretched...glide, float
on wings of mirth, the lilt in your step
Light...alight...beyond strife
Aloft on a puffy cloud...of acceptance
Peace and contentment floating about
The beat of season...repeat...a rhythm
Exults a tempo, unconstrained...uplifted...high
Delight of dance...abundant, abandon
Rejoice...life’s joys abide
Time distilled...is stilled, stands
defeated in a moment’s glory lived
Buoyancy of your mood...surfeit
Pervades your face, saturates your eyes
Trappings of weighs...of withhold
Drop off, shadows in silent surrender
Release to bliss...delight
In love, in being you and with life
Happy...you are happy...alive
Float...alight on light
- Abhi
For the NEW YEAR!
Through the turns of clockwork and the whispers of sand
Through crosses on calendars and chimes of hours
Through happenings of triumphs, non events and disasters,
Has passed yet another year!
And today we stand at the threshold of a year...
A leap into a new millennia.
The year ahead may be no different...
...than the previous ticking of clocks
...or the passing pages of calendar.
No difference would there be...if our dreams were to be dead!
If they be not dead...
...but still gasped in a few morsels of breath,
Subsisted on few crumbs of belief
Escaped the fatal clutches...
...of the pessimism of failure.
Then let us look at them anew!
Brush from them the cobwebs of cynicism
Nurture them with our company
And this while help them keep...
...their tryst...
with time and destiny.
For this Year New,
I wish you...
A dream...and its ever present company
A belief...despite the contradiction of reality
A faith... in yourself
A direction...wherever it may go
A pinch of tolerance...
And a bounty of harmony.
A Happy New Year to You...My FRIEND!
Avi
The Realist
Pic from www.eviaggiatori.it
The Realist
How trade you a piece of land? Can the wind, which blows over it, be packaged?
A confinement of four walls you call home, put a price to the fire, which warms the hearth! Could you barter the clouds bountiful with precipitation? Or put on shelves the fragrance of earth quenched by first rain!
Which plot of stars do you claim as your own? And render the rest of the firmament disowned! With great fervour you lay claim to authorship, of flitting ideas and twirling inspirations, lay price to the words read, while the ransom of the smile teased or tears evoked in their reading remains unclaimed!
On greater wages foist you your importance, yet not seek your dues from the satisfaction of a job well done! Against all imagined maladies, resources you hoard
Yet in your riches not have a soul tallied to call your own? What is ours have you divided betwixt theirs and mine and labelled the same as just commerce!
What if Nature today got a whiff of this knowledge? And called the fruits it bore its own? The Sun levied charges for the rays it sent our way; the trees taxed us for the shade it gave; and the river put price to the thirst quenched?
Profit, you have termed to this brokerage charged on the bounties, which were readily ours, the restrictions placed on flow you termed power!
Now bedazzled by this mirage created by your own fears, have you sought courage by terming yourself a realist?
Had come across a letter written by a Red Indian chief which had imprinted itself on my mind! This piece was born from those thoughts. Finally Dina helped me find that letter here!
IF
For the son is the father of Man:
Photoshop '98
IF
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing it and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,
Or being lied upon don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream and not make dreams you master;
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can make triumph and disaster
And treat the two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: Hold on!
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And which is more you’ll be a Man, my son!
- Rudyard Kipling
A Favourite poem of mine
The Grass
The Grass: Photoshop '03.
The Grass
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The approaching daylight hid within its glorious folds
Consummate trauma for the lonely blade of grass,
Having sown its dreams of everlasting togetherness
In the soothing embrace of the innocent dew,
To have its castle of hopes razed callously
For no apparent reason but the whim of the glaring Sun!
Who could tell the blade of grass otherwise?Avi
Solitude
Came across this flipping through the pages of a book:
“Solitude isn’t a place to settle down”
One of those phrases, which caught my eyes and brought my thoughts to a screeching halt! How true!
Solitude needs to be experienced. It provides a respite. It recharges the self. Yet solitude isn’t the place to park oneself permanently! For every charge seeks fulfillment in discharge. There’s a celebration in being connected too with the society at large!
Yet don’t we, in the midst of crowd, securely lock ourselves in the ivory tower? Is that solitude as well?
And if solitude isn’t a place to settle down, is the madding crowd the other alternative? Or is there a middle ground? Or should it be an optimum mix (how, its either solitude or isn’t?)?
I ponder on this thought in solitude…or is this a thought which I’m actually sharing with many others?
Came across this:
After all this kind of fanfare, and even more, I came to a point where I needed solitude and just stop the machine of 'thinking' and 'enjoying' what they call 'living,' I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds....
Anonymous
To which there was:
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Solitude is fine, but you need someone to tell you that solitude is fine.
Honore de Balzac
and yet:
It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion, it is easy in solitude to live after your own; but the great man is he who, in the midst of the world, keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.
Ralph Waldo Emerson