A play here and a concert there
Time away,a real nightmare
Breakfast with chutney in the morning fog
Compromised work and a forgotten blog
Watching the sun go down from the lake
Sharing a ride, binge eating, carrot cake
Planning for tomorrow, for the week ahead
A laundry list of things, it's lost in my head
Code words that just don't stick
A dialect that could make me sick
Raising a puppy, not ready yet, I guess
Shopping to reduce my ramshackleness
The time since my last writing was long
since then life has been one happy song
Hear,oh men, far and near, my tale
The last 2 months, that passed like a gale
Showing posts with label inspired. Show all posts
Showing posts with label inspired. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Jugalbandhi: Ramulu and Julu-yettu
She wanted no traces of their meeting,
And, she was an expert at that,
Like the many times they were together,
He stared into the open; helpless, smitten
It wasn't him, but it was him, afterall,
And it was his head on the chopping block,
He knew he had no way out; She was mean,
And had her gadgets drawn out for the kill, gingerly
She had him by his white starched shirt,
Between the first and second button, precisely,
With one swish had him fade to history,
Had him slump to the ground, lifeless
She picked him up nonchalantly, and trashed him,
And examined what was left; pleased, satisfied,
A beautiful silver framed photo of her sitting,
Her head against the end of a white starched curtain
And, she was an expert at that,
Like the many times they were together,
He stared into the open; helpless, smitten
It wasn't him, but it was him, afterall,
And it was his head on the chopping block,
He knew he had no way out; She was mean,
And had her gadgets drawn out for the kill, gingerly
She had him by his white starched shirt,
Between the first and second button, precisely,
With one swish had him fade to history,
Had him slump to the ground, lifeless
She picked him up nonchalantly, and trashed him,
And examined what was left; pleased, satisfied,
A beautiful silver framed photo of her sitting,
Her head against the end of a white starched curtain
Friday, October 9, 2009
The times they are a-changin'
When the local chronicle replaces the one since 1878,
so much that you wonder where it was all this while,
but still go back for them crosswords,
When irani cafes are in and posh eateries are passe,
so much that you stop asking for what you need,
but have it served by raising a hand, a nod of the head,
When your mother-tongue pips the world's Lingua franca,
so much that you switch to frustrate those non-speakers,
but still inject a few words to rile them purists,
When old habits fall to the ground like winnowed rice paddy,
When new habits emerge like sprouts left overnight,
When old friends hug you like you've just won the derby,
When new friends feel like you've known them for ages,
And in the process you find yourself, again, and yet again,
and see that you are very much at peace, piece by piece,
When you love where you are going,
Just as much as where you came from,
You have to wonder,
You have to think aloud,
You have to ask yourself ,
If this ain't life ... what is ?
so much that you wonder where it was all this while,
but still go back for them crosswords,
When irani cafes are in and posh eateries are passe,
so much that you stop asking for what you need,
but have it served by raising a hand, a nod of the head,
When your mother-tongue pips the world's Lingua franca,
so much that you switch to frustrate those non-speakers,
but still inject a few words to rile them purists,
When old habits fall to the ground like winnowed rice paddy,
When new habits emerge like sprouts left overnight,
When old friends hug you like you've just won the derby,
When new friends feel like you've known them for ages,
And in the process you find yourself, again, and yet again,
and see that you are very much at peace, piece by piece,
When you love where you are going,
Just as much as where you came from,
You have to wonder,
You have to think aloud,
You have to ask yourself ,
If this ain't life ... what is ?
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Oona baby ...
"Eat me", she seemed to cry as she lay there rather stiff
She wriggled to a corner, like she were shy, like her first
He knew she'd never been "done" before
She wouldn't have been in front of him in that case
Understandably, she was fairly hot
It had taken her quite a while to get there
His mouth watered at the sight in front of him
He was starving, he wanted her badly,
He took her gently, and squeezed her midriff
Taken aback at the way things flowed he quickly bit into her
She tasted just like he knew she would, magical, virginal
He seemed to have heard the rest of her cry out again,
"Eat me", a little more desperate, hoarser, more guttural
It seemed to come from the bottom of her stomach
He couldn't wait anylonger, he needed the whole of her inside him
With a scoop he took in the whole of what was left
It was the best fish and caviare he had in a long time
Amma makes it beautifully, Sigh what an anti-climax
P.S: Shouldn't the title have been Tuna Baby !!!
She wriggled to a corner, like she were shy, like her first
He knew she'd never been "done" before
She wouldn't have been in front of him in that case
Understandably, she was fairly hot
It had taken her quite a while to get there
His mouth watered at the sight in front of him
He was starving, he wanted her badly,
He took her gently, and squeezed her midriff
Taken aback at the way things flowed he quickly bit into her
She tasted just like he knew she would, magical, virginal
He seemed to have heard the rest of her cry out again,
"Eat me", a little more desperate, hoarser, more guttural
It seemed to come from the bottom of her stomach
He couldn't wait anylonger, he needed the whole of her inside him
With a scoop he took in the whole of what was left
It was the best fish and caviare he had in a long time
Amma makes it beautifully, Sigh what an anti-climax
P.S: Shouldn't the title have been Tuna Baby !!!
Monday, July 20, 2009
drove a chevy to the levee ..
And I stood arrow straight
Unencumbered by the weight
Of all these hustlers and their schemes
I stood proud, I stood tall
High above it all
I still believed in my dreams
Twenty years now
Where'd they go?
Twenty years I don't know
Sit and I wonder sometimes
Where they've gone
And sometimes late at night
When I'm bathed in the firelight
The moon comes callin' a ghostly white
And I recall
I Recall
Like a rock.
standin' arrow straight
Like a rock,
chargin' from the gate
Like a rock,
carryin' the weight
Like a rock
Like a rock,
the sun upon my skin
Like a rock,
hard against the wind
Like a rock,
I see myself again
Like a rock
~ Bob Seger, Like a Rock
Unencumbered by the weight
Of all these hustlers and their schemes
I stood proud, I stood tall
High above it all
I still believed in my dreams
Twenty years now
Where'd they go?
Twenty years I don't know
Sit and I wonder sometimes
Where they've gone
And sometimes late at night
When I'm bathed in the firelight
The moon comes callin' a ghostly white
And I recall
I Recall
Like a rock.
standin' arrow straight
Like a rock,
chargin' from the gate
Like a rock,
carryin' the weight
Like a rock
Like a rock,
the sun upon my skin
Like a rock,
hard against the wind
Like a rock,
I see myself again
Like a rock
~ Bob Seger, Like a Rock
Monday, December 10, 2007
Flash Fiction
This morning I was 'kindly' introduced to Flash Fiction. Inspired by Hemmingway's six-word flash:
For sale: baby shoes, never worn
I thought I'd publish my first six-word flash as well:
Flash Fiction: Never written ... Never read ...
For sale: baby shoes, never worn
I thought I'd publish my first six-word flash as well:
Flash Fiction: Never written ... Never read ...
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