Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Can I leave this without a name?

To find joy in a smile that's smitten
In silly flowers and the poem unwritten
In prancing butterflies pure and mild
Pleasures only the mind can find

To marvel at the ocean moon
To indulge me like your homegrown
To touch my heart in ways unknown
To make the mystery unravel on its own

To bring in soundless shells from sea
To also bring in the joy like thee
To ponder me but ask no proof
Like a miracle that is kept aloof

The language only some can speak
The thought the best would seek
To have the songs that are always right
To be the distraction of the sweetest kind

To be the poem, my touchstone.



He will an enchantment remain
unparalleled, undoubted and understood
The puzzle still stubborn and sore
my mind will solve it no more

Some things will stay the way they are
some loves that are too improbable to be
faraway smiles and majestic souls
some that were and some that are to be


Friday, December 3, 2010


My words have a guest tonight
tonight will sure be long
yes I should pause and belong
the guest wont be here for long

Tomorrow will soon come along.


look back
turn around
do I seem sound?
Where did you go?
you lost me at the bend long ago
Did you find the old yellow paper?
it was my poem in a beautiful wrapper
look back
turn around
Is it you?
Where did the paper go?
Has it fallen into the hollow?
I have nothing but that poem
that's all I have - to give you.


It's not mine

How can I trouble my tears to no mercy
over something that was never meant to be
like always I should let the thin thread break
and I should hand it to my friend - destiny

How can I ask in all my prayers divine
something that can never be forever mine
my prayers are only answered up to the comma thereof
God always forgets to search for the full stop

How can I surrender and sublimely belong -
to some loose notes that can never be a song
my box is full and filled with many a colorful petal
only missing is the middle and the petals inevitably fall

Can I wish for one more eternity beyond?
where there's just you and I and a pond
where the heart is not held at ransom by the mind
where I am yours and you are mine to find


Saturday, November 27, 2010

Timeless rhyme

Precious things and darling friends
are usually given at sudden steep bends
good things come at the oddest time
that's when my words forget to rhyme


The curl of hair

The curl of the hair
on the maiden fair
vowed her bother at every touch
wouldn't rest at her retouch

Her charming eyes
and matchless sighs
it laid itself on her docile lid
did not seem she could get rid

Then it fell on cheeks no care
in the dimples depths oh so rare
quite stubborn it stood midway
stayed on till she smiled it away

When crazy curls you cannot cajole
come draping the face of an honest soul
the mind it travels to Elysian land
strings of pearls on a strain of sand

This one is in love of my sister's beautiful curly hair :D :D


Tuesday, November 23, 2010

V r lyk dis only!

Shakespeare once innocently said "Brevity is the soul of wit". It makes me wonder what dear Shakespeare would have to say now when people have managed to raise their "wit" quotients to a  level where they can write and express their month long vacation to the Himalayas in mere 140 characters. Well, we don’t write really, we just tweet! A 16 year old cousin was casually questioned after his trip to Europe about the different languages he might have picked up on his vacation. "Java" came the proud reply. So much for our expectation to hear a ”Spanish" or a "German" for an answer. Gone are the days when professional resumes contained "English" or "Japanese" in the "Languages known" section. Now it’s more or less like this - "Java", "C", "Python", " blah", "eh, what" etc.

PS: I am not at all against the influences technology can have on language. I actually love it! Imagine how dry and boring life might have been without a "bug"gy neighbor, a pizza from a "googled" pizza place or a friend born with a "runtime" error!


Higher self

"There is this point", he began
They listened in rapt attention
Then he seemed to lose his thoughts
They looked on with apprehension

"Or maybe there was this point", he continued
They looked on hopes renewed
Then he seemed to look away
They thought he had lost it midway

"Actually, there should be a point", he said
They dint think this was going good
Then he kind of turned around
They thought he looked quite unsound

"What a total waste", they said
He still dint seem to come around
He had kind of reached a thought
Where their minds could penetrate not.

Eh? :P

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Have you seen that line?

One side you see the sunlight
the other side the delicate night
If it wasn't for either
how would you have known the other
The blending thin line of transition
between the night and the sunlight
are where all true things originate
before they come to choose their fate
The sun looks up with majestic might
The night looks much alright
The sun spells class and sophistication
The night bestows some raw emotion
How do you choose a further path
when you know not the aftermath
Do you go with the sun mammoth
or do you take the moon to oath
Do you choose the casual and carefree
or do you go into the realm of contemporary
Is controlled passion the way forward
or is free spirit of independence the word
Is life to be lived with prudence puristic
or do we need some experiments exotic.

Why are my poems full of unanswered questions? :)


Saturday, November 20, 2010

Lest I forget

I want what I cannot get
Let me name it lest I forget
I want the sun, the moon and sky
I want the catcher in the rye
I want the boat that's always sailing
I want the bird that doesn't stop singing
I want to hum the song unwritten
I want to hug the smitten kitten
I want June on a December day
I want April to go the August way
I want a day that's lightning paced
I want a trip that leaves me dazed
I want a word that doesn't rhyme
I want a friend who knows no time.


Friday, November 19, 2010

Several first times.

Then she seemed to retreat into the folds
the ragged fabric of her thoughts
She blended into the wholesomeness of his existence
she intertwined her thoughts with those of his
She plucked out his pain with the feeling of bliss
He should enjoy the spring's pointless beauty
his prehensile mind relieved from the otherwise infinite duty
He always was her most awaited of distractions
like being woken from a disturbing dream
She lived her wish of being his jobler
last of her blanket attempts to win him over
There will be another first time.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Some people

An instinct is all it sometimes takes
sometimes everything falls into place
some people are just meant to be
if we open our minds and let our hearts see

There cannot always be a reason
like the rain that comes out of season
some people enter in small measures
and end up being the best treasures

Some friends get so special
some moments turn so true
I wish I could hold them tight
no clue about tomorrow's plight

Is there a way to let people know
that they are like the sunshine on a pile of snow
warm enough to protect, mild enough to savor
true enough to surrender, rare enough to remember

Words come to me best on silent lonely nights with velvet blankets.


Sunday, November 14, 2010

The rainbow outside my window

I am all dressed with nowhere to go
I am all read with nothing to know
I am all heard but nowhere understood
I am all experimented having nothing to show
I am full of colorful pictures with no clear connection
I am a mosaic of experiences with no emotion
I am a mirage on sand who will disappear on demand
I am the light in the room the main reason for the shadows
I am just an imagination just a form of illusion
I am the wife of the pianist he who disappears with mist
I am the bee who knows the song but has forgotten the hum
I am the shell by the ocean taken and thrown by the waves of the sea.
I am the soul with no body, I am the thought with no means.
I am the dream that will never come true.


Equally clueless

She jumped from cloud to cloud ..
hoping to get a better view
of the star that had fallen through.
Minutes before she was in conversation
with the most beautiful star in creation.
She thought he was her guiding light
in the otherwise chaotic night..
but suddenly he had responded with a fall
the earth seemed to have given him a call
Why did the earth always want to befriend the star?

She could never completely comprehend
she being just a blob in the sky with no end
the handsome star seemed exotic to her
but the earth always seemed one step ahead.
She had hoped he would be drawn to her..
why couldn't earth be satisfied with what she had?
The earth was ever the selfish being
couldn't she let her have one star worth keeping?

But there was something she would never realize
looking at the sky tranquilized,
was the earth who was equally clueless
of the star and his where'ness'..
What happened after she had called for the star
didn't it seem like he was almost there by far?
He would finally be hers with the moon left bare
and she would show him why she was better,
she would make the scars on the moon her weapon.

But where was the star who was almost there?
Who was it who stole him midway?


Saturday, November 13, 2010

The thing to do when it rains, is to let it rain.

I am hungry for more rains in-spite of the generous showers we have had recently. I cant seem to get enough of looking at water pouring on me from nowhere. So on today's unimaginably hot weather I went into my stock of rainy memories and came up with some rainy thoughts.

Some mirrors created
from puddles of water collected
Why is it showing me my reflection?
Is it time for some introspection?


The little drop
on the green leaf
beside a pink flower
on the lovely lawn
slips sleekly down
moving to another leaf
slightly smaller than the former
perhaps for the better


The moon looks perfectly done
only in the distant pool of water
just like the love that seems perfect
only because it never happens

The bubbly blue butterfly
kisses the leaf and turns shy
making the leaf glow so much greener
an honest kiss and its untold power.

I wish it rains now,

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Precious poetry

Poetry, precious poetry
please let me have my way and get away..
Let me be a passionate romantic today
and turn into an impassioned purist tomorrow
Let me turn love purple with an orange outline
or change the colors to white and black when I sign
Let me be a silent spectator today
and give them all an impression I am always this way
and tomorrow, let me talk to my heart's glory
blurting my deepest feelings, ideas not only
Let me playfully flirt with words the way I wish
and fling them out the window with a twirl and a swish
Let me run outside and get them back in..
put them on paper and get them singin..
Let me make a handsome man look very dumb
and tomorrow, please let me call him my dream!
Poetry, precious poetry
you have been especially lenient with me
Like a kind friend, you have let me set my soul free!


Thursday, October 14, 2010

The beauty in humility

If there is one thing that can completely take me in, its humility. 
There is something so charming about being humble, about acknowledging that there is a world outside of us, that there are people exceedingly better than us, that everyone has conquered some frontiers - which may not always be external. Maybe the very fact that it has become so rare to find truly humble people is what makes them stand out. Senseless stupid sentences, loud nonstop conversations, boastful sounds from people who are so full of themselves has become such a disgustingly common place thing to me these days. I thought college was bad with stupid immature people unable to accept that there can be anything outside of themselves, better than themselves. Turns out the "corporate" world is worse.

I struggle to find people who can manage to keep their big mouths shut unless they can contribute something useful or pleasurable to everyone who can hear them. I struggle to find people who have discovered the magic of modesty - the haven from where all virtues shoot. Most times, I honestly struggle to understand exactly what a person really wants to say even after he has spoken for almost 2 hours.

The respect I might have once had comes crashing down the minute the person gets vocal about senseless things. If somebody has done something good, the world will figure it out sooner or later. Maybe we can do them a favor and give them a chance to discover it themselves. I have tired myself out asking what drives a person, (who can otherwise be exceedingly excellent) to such idiocy.. I have tried answers like " the proverbial rat race ", "plain insecurity", "serious mental disorders". How most people can be so blind and live in denial about some of the the most fundamental truths will always be a big question in my head.


Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Over confident mind.

What are you so proud about?
What are you showing off?
The castle that you think you own?
with those beautiful pillars on lands unknown..
Or the tomorrow you think you have sealed?
manipulating a million minds, thinking you have it all..

Can you hear the laughter..
directed at the wisdom you are denied
look, the waves are approaching your castle
which is nothing but a mirage on sand
waiting to take away your vain glories, your illusions of wealth
did you say your castle was strong
look closely, the wind is on the other side

Listen there is that laughter again
directed at your assumed arrogance
you think you are an unwritten law, a know it all?
look, the page you were on has just been ripped off
the tomorrow you have conceived is already a yesterday
with the same mistakes and fallen pride just like all yesterdays

what a weird poem, :)

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Voice of whispering colors

His voice was a shade of light, lazy lavender.. the shade I absolutely long and relish .. the rhythm in the sound sometimes reminded me of softly falling snow flakes on an already snow lush mountain. When he spoke of his ambitions, the warm lavender turned alert taking a deeper, vibrant shade.. The intensity of his words took me to a crystal clear flowing river where an artist had forgotten his lavender smeared paint brush which now lent its brilliant color to the water..

Love turned his voice darker still pushing it into the purple'ish' realm.. Sometimes his naughtiness seemed to mix crazy, ticklish, endearing pink to the already passionate purple. Wherever he went, he seemed to leave a soaring dark shade of satin red behind.. the kind of red that makes people fear when they are guilt ridden and fills them with hope, energy and confidence when they are innocent enough to understand reds.. You could neither love him nor ignore him.. He induced confusion just like how green can sometimes confuse me.. Is it a green filled with envy or is it the innocent green which fills the leaves..

It always managed to break something inside me when his words turned to whispering blue.. But blues didn't last long with him.. he was immune to blue.. I can never describe him in black or white. He has always been an enigma with a tinge of grey that perhaps hides the blinding brilliant gold inside.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Exhibition of love

Can we have an exhibition
of fairy tails?
of the dwarfs telling us their tales?
Can we have an exhibition
of forgotten nights?
reminding us of our dearest dreams
Can we have an exhibition
of stolen kisses?
One given, one bought and one for free..
Can we have an exhibition
of today's hopes
So we can catch a glimpse of tomorrow's promises
Can we have an exhibition
of colorful bangles
And not allow anyone,so I can have it all for me..

Monday, September 13, 2010

Figment of imagination

Is there a pattern to you
or are you just a random stroke
Are you here to carve a niche road
or are you just a wandering soul
Are you for real
or are you a figment of my imaginative mind
or probably of my childish heart..
Are you really priceless
like the pearl inside the ocean
or are you just a fools' paradise..
Do you listen to my silences?
Do you play with my shadows?
Do you understand my nuances?
Do you cushion my falls?
If so, why have you come out tonight?
go right back inside my heart..

My friend, the cloud

My friend, the cloud has visited me
I know the cloud the moment I see
It tries to hide in its shapless spree
Knowing it can never hide from me
There is not another prettier cloud
with a shape more endearing than thee
In the infinity of unnamed and forgotten clouds
my friend, the cloud has escaped this night
A different mask can change the form
the outward shapes don't matter to me
My friend, the cloud has visited me
I know the cloud the moment I see

Friday, September 3, 2010

Monsoon memoires

“Why do we love the sea? It is because it has some potent power to make us think things we like to think.”

Our recent trip to Udupi brought back to me memories of my years in Mangalore. Mangalore resides in me as a particularly cozy little world with a very humid weather and full of Konkani speaking people. Mangalore knows just two ways of being - either soaking wet or scorching hot. My summers in Mangalore were mainly spent getting badly tanned and drinking limitless "bonda" water .. The rains however are a very different story turning Mangalore into a really wet and an equally dreamy place..

Coastal Karnataka has this unmatched charm about it.. Everything including the aroma in the air changes soon as we cross the ghats entering the lovely coastal regions.. Cold Bangalore weather departs to welcome the ever humid Mangalore air with its constant smell of the sea and jackfruits .. The kannada accent of the coastal reigions sounded really funny when I was new to Mangalore and now my Kannada is a weird mix of Bangalorean and Mangalorean accents which is a standing joke with my friends from both places.. sigh.

Mangalore will always have a special place in my heart.. for reasons more than one. It continues to hold me in its nest of wonder. Maybe forever.

"Don't grow up too quickly, lest you forget how much you love the beach."


Thursday, September 2, 2010

Some more of you..

Stay with me one more day
hold me another time
give me another smile
one another look
give me a little more love
a little more of you
give me one more chance
to take in some more of you
give me a little more magic
some more memories
some more laughter
some more of you..


Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Why are you not here?

Why is the water so wet?
coz if it weren't, I'd keep it on my bed.
Why is the grass not blue?
coz if it were, I'd go and paint it green.
Why is the sky not pink?
coz if it were, I'd blame it for not being blue.
Why are you so adorable?
coz if you weren't, I'd just let you be.

Why is the baby so little?
coz if it weren't, I'd lift it fearlessly.
Why is the friend so genuine?
coz if he wasn't, I'd just be a fool.
Why are sisters the best?
coz if they weren't, I'd miss the brother some more.
Why are you not here?
coz if you were, I'd keep you locked in me.


Sunday, July 25, 2010


She wrote a hundred songs
and woke a hundred mornings
She lived and wept, died a little each date
She waited for the turnaround of fate
She had no reason
nor any rhyme
Yet she danced to the tunes of a long bygone song
She longed for him to come and see
She longed to be set free.


Saturday, June 12, 2010

Of rainy days and saturday mornings...

My windows are open bearing witness to the pouring rain outside..droplets of water fall on my face as I sit leaning against the window sill with a piping cup of coffee in hand.. I wonder why rain is called rain.. why not just water .. why do we say "its raining" .. wouldn't it have made more sense to say "its watering" ? Probably.. but who cares .. all I am sure of is that the watering would take me in just as much as the raining does..

Its a lovely Saturday morning.. lovelier than usual .. these poor school kids don't have their Saturdays off. Its a half day they say.. like it makes any difference. I see them running around in their colorful raincoats.. A yellow one catches my eye.. The boy seems to be having fun getting wet, maybe its fun to attend classes with wet clothes and dirty feet.. I wonder what he is thinking, probably about how late he is going to be for class.. or maybe not .. little boys think about more important stuff like which computer game he would be downloading the next day..being Sunday! Sundays are fun.. but Saturdays are better coz the anticipation of a holiday is always better than the realization of a holiday..

Anyway coming back to the raincoat, the yellow raincoat has these big green buttons! I think its kinda cool, though I would not be caught dead in that thing.. I was more into yellow raincoats about 14 years back.. Now its just grey and probably a muted blue.. oh wait maybe red too! Ya.. raincoats ought to be audaciously bright to bring out the color of the rain.. grey is just not it.. hmm I should go buy a yellow raincoat..


Saturday, June 5, 2010

Today's sky...

There is joy in today's sky
the clouds sudden and divine
seen heralding a couple
holding glasses of wine...
There is a smile on the face,
the dimples sealing the case :)
Happiness heralded everywhere..
Even on the rainbow so rare!


Saturday, May 29, 2010

Stories on a lens.

I recently found the phrase for the kind of photography I have always wanted to do. I have never wanted my photographs to be only a copy of what the eyes saw. I always want my photographs to be able to express what the heart saw. Turns out the phrase for such a thing in the photography lingo is "concept photography".. You create a mood out of the scene leading the viewer to something deeper than just what they can see.. Probably like narrating a story without words.. or like inviting the reader to imagine his own story based on what he sees..

And yes, a dear and close friend of mine has gotten an awesome new camera for me as a gift!!!!!! ( Oh yea, I know I am lucky .. please go ahead and envy me! :P ) and I just cannot wait to click some stories. :)

Immensely excited,

Friday, May 7, 2010

The inexplicable.

The trace of a dried raindrop..
The final word before the full stop..
The love in a rapist's heart..
The new born baby's past..
The sorrow in the happiest look..
The cliche in the finest book..
The lame man's winning dance..
The dream in the dying man..
The life in the sickest room..
The hero of the forgotten war..
The vision in the blindest man..
The quirk in my middle name..
The shadow in the brightest room..
The hope in the broken heart..
and the wish that always comes true :)

Inspiration -> "The gin soaked boy" :)


Can it get better?

An old book with its comforting stories
A new one with its untold mysteries
Aroma of a freshly brewn coffee
This is pure bliss, can it get better than this?

For nothing could ever rekindle my soul
like a moonlit evening and a chocolate bowl
I decide this is perfection topped with some cheese
For how can anything get better than this?

A sweet melody ringing background
and the delighted birds chirping along
My wordless heart and its endless song
Can it get better after so long..

Who's that by the door?
Love and happiness galore!
It cannot not get better than that?
Can I ever be mistaken more? :)


Friday, April 16, 2010

Stolen memories

Hidden in the deep abyss of my existence
lies safe the most precious part from another's soul
The voice always reminding me of a long lost friend
and the fleeting touch divine from god's end
Scents though bygone remain near and familiar
Stubbornly tying to be rare but refusing to leave my air
The words that never failed my truest smile
and a ringing glow to my eye even from a mile
the bitter sweet panacea to all unsaid fears
The secretly borrowed memories to away wipe my tears
The most precious feeling ever to be given
resembling the feel of water to a desert so raven
The momentary blessing I'll value beyond all
I belong to the part - heart and soul.

Suddenly poetic, :)

Sunday, March 14, 2010


She found her meaning and happiness in a polka dotted sea shell, while I searched for mine in the approaching waves of the ocean hoping they would spill me a secret. For her, an evening of enjoyment meant a couple of different flavored, cashew topped, king size ice creams, while I failed to find mine even in the most luxurious of homes surrounded by hordes of people. She found pride in the smallest of achievements - in catching a butterfly, flying a kite and in scaring the neighbour's son out of his wits. I couldn't find mine in numerous college degrees and the many bank accounts. Her world started at our doorstep ending near the main gate. For me, sky was the limit which so soon had started to seem so less.
She ran to him with careless abandon and flashing dimples as he entered through the door. She clung to her father who had just returned from work as if he were her long lost treasure. I wondered where I had lost my gift of reckless joyousness and free expression of love I was once loved for. I knew she had got it from me... and so did he. The dimples were his though. He looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world. He got her a doll and a pretty pink frock. He always said I looked lovely in pink.
I waited. He never came back without something for me. This time, I got a kiss.. on my daughter's cheek.


Friday, March 12, 2010

I have learnt..

I have learnt to remember that silence is "almost always" the best answer
and to recognize the situations which dont belong to "the almost always"
I have learnt not to try to stop things which want to run
and to lovingly embrace things that will never leave
I have learnt that prudence and preservation have their place
but so do experimentation and curiosity
I have learnt to live independently of others
of their thoughts, their opinions and their presence
I have learnt to never underestimate the power of dreams, hard work and obsessive love
and to never overestimate arrogance, power and loud noises
I have learnt that darkness in the room is nothing to be feared
what is to be feared is the darkness in the mind
I have learnt to love passionately like no tomorrow
and never ever expect to be loved back
I have learnt to be receptive to the simple pleasures
to smiles, friends, music and rain
I have learnt to believe in myself beyond a shadow of a doubt
in my endless ability to work till I get absolutely anything I want.. in its purest form
I have learnt when to work hard and never give up
and when to let go and walk away
I have learnt when to make things happen
and when to go with the flow
I have learnt to listen and respect all opinions
but never to forget that its my life
I have learnt not to assume, judge or conclude
and just to listen, trust and explore

I have learnt to live my best life :)


Saturday, February 20, 2010

Keeper of dreams.

Time cannot touch her
she is the keeper of dreams
Too late to take over
No man and no means

She has found the journey
to her only destination
Answers to her questions
a state beyond confusions

Her heart bears him no expectation
only a belief to the point of obsession
Her love is strong and blessed
with miracles beyond imagination


Can you?

You can build a dam..
can you stop the waves?
You cannot stop the wind
you can just build caves
You can stop the war
can you bring in peace?
You can kill the woman
touch her soul you cannot.

You cannot stop the revolution
you can just lock them in
You can have her body
can you win her mind?
You can force their words
their loyalty you cannot
You can make him bleed
can you mar his spirit?

You can close your eyes
you cannot stop the sun
You can force her to abandon
but can you steal away her heart?
You can keep her out your eyes
you know you cannot from your thoughts..
You can cheat the world
can you your mind?

You can try but you will fail
the hearts have long since set sail

The Rice Mother

"The Rice Mother" - The book I was reading today. I dont remember any book after "Memoires of a geisha" that has evoked such emotions in me as this did. Every page made me sob. Every line gave me a new thought. I should have read this long long back. My friend gave this to me and I am so glad she did. Everything I am going to do or think hereon will in some mysterious way be connected to this book. Its amazing how life silently steers you towards hidden and forgotten treasures on an otherwise innocent saturday afternoon. The crisp, yellow pages soaked in my favorite "old book" scent has taken me away to a distant land. The cover picture of the lone woman on a sailing boat gazing with determination into an unknown future beautifully captures the story's essence.

The book is grand. You have to do a lot more than just read it to know it.

Oh and by the way, do make sure you have in your life, atleast one friend who is a true piscean. I have one and she always manages to push a bit of her piscean charm into my pretentious leonine life :)


Friday, February 19, 2010


Many a times I have wondered about the concept of rebirth... If the whole thing is fact or fiction. Till recently, I used to discard the theory to be total nonsense. Today makes me hope otherwise. For various reasons. I so desperately hope that there is a new life, a second chance at everything.

If there is such a thing, I want it now.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010


You are what dreams are made of..
you bring the dreams to life.
The day gets its cheer and the night its peace,
just by the love light of your eyes.

You are too wonderful -
you can only be admired.
too beyond the ordinary..
for anybody to conspire.

You make everything else look so mundane..
small and inane and pointless..
just a brush of your hand,
the world is tossed into nothingness.

You are too pure to be touched,
you can only but be felt.
too divine to be loved,
you can only be worshiped.

You belong to everybody,
yet you are a stranger to all.
God's most beautiful creation..
His moment of pride, his stroke of inspiration.


Monday, February 15, 2010

Sometimes sitting alone
I notice the small creations
the ruffling leaves
and the sailing moon
birds busy in flight
clouds in search of the infinite
the vain rose with all its thorns
the stubborn fly fighting all norms
the greatness of nature
and the smallness of man.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Random musings

I have always wondered whether he wanted life to be his complete signature painting or just his ever editable canvas. And I always reach the conclusion that it is just a canvas. A huge white canvas where different strokes are brushed, different lines are drawn,, different colors painted. Any completed painting for an artist is a labor of love... and we would always want our labor of love to be perfect. In every sense.

Life is a huge project. A labor of love that cannot be completed or perfected so easily. I am sure he must have realized it. I hope he has realized it. I hope life is just a huge canvas ever on the path to being a perfect painting.


Forbidden treasures

Words unspoken
Feelings hidden
beauty that's unadorned
intelligence that's innocent
Always have a special place
like the secret of heaven

The things we tweak
for the results we seek
the unsaid assumptions
the unwritten laws
none hold meaning
when the feelings get going

Forbidden love
special treasures
unexpressed emotions
bygone days
Always have a special place
like the secret of heaven