When the ocean meets the sand

My thoughts, illuminate, turn inward.
My breath, my seraph, takes a pause.
My mind, tempest, rests in peace.
My soul, evanescent, stops and belongs.

The blue of the ocean,
this is what it does to me.
Drifts me away from the trodden path,
trudges me along to where I belong.

My heart, my jobler, beats to a different tune
as if having met a lost acquaintance.
My feet, unconcerned, just too stubborn to move
as if having found their destination earth bound.

The sand in the desert,
this is what it does to me,
Takes me to idyllic lands of liberty,
My eyes, they understand, they capture this instant - for posterity.

Gargi.

Poetics of Poetry

As another weekend departs, my love for poetry deepens. In an effort to bring some structure and method to my study of poetry I've penned down a few poems in different styles. I don't claim them perfect in technicalities - they are only some words and rules I played with.

Syllable : A small unit of pronunciation that has a vowel sound either by itself or surrounded by consonants. Example: River is a word with two syllables (Ri-ver).

1) Haiku - Rules for English Haiku are not as forceful as it is for Japanese Haiku. A Haiku generally has 17 syllables ( 5-7-5). Various other forms and variations also exist. They are based mainly on everyday nature and ordinary objects and experience narrated in not-so-everyday ways.

Vast blue sultry skies
Quivering deep emotion
His extraordinary eyes

Special sizzling spice
fresh coffee aroma announces
Mother's arrival home.

2) Diamond poem - This cute technique requires building a diamond using words (1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 3 - 2 -1) Opposites are generally chosen as the topmost and bottom most words. 
                             
                                                          Humility
                                                 True            Beautiful        
                                       Reviving       Beckoning     Succeeding
                             Success          Friendship           Warmth      Life
                                       Sickening     Scathing        Friendless
                                                 Commonplace  Pompous
                                                          Arrogance

3) List poem - List poems are organized around an idea. All sentences describe feelings and things that we relate to that central idea. 

A bygone friend suddenly discovered
as gentle as an evening sunbeam
as reminiscent as a long forgotten dream
as a much desired companion in life's lonely path
as a ringing bell singing its sweet song
as a panacea for past's wrongs
sweeter than solitude, the sweetest song.

These were some of my favorite styles. Remaining styles remain for another day.

Best,
Gargi

Love - like it has never been.

Love - like the rainbow that piercingly splashes the atmosphere,
like it stamps the skies with its signature - colors that some adore and some fear.

Love - like the madman who starts his passionate unending unrelenting riot,
like he knows of nothing - but the burning desire in his heart.

Love - not like those women who love just so the world can enviously see,
but like those - for whom with the lover, the world simply ceases to be.

Love - not with the colorless tiresome ordinaries of existence,
but with the belief that tests even the unimaginable idiosyncrasies of persistence.

Love - like the maiden who seeks nothing in return, no complaints they hear,
like she lives her infinite life, with demure brown eyes and determination they fear.

If you ever love, make sure you do so with an intensity that can overthrow all previously known limits of love. :)

Gargi

To be a bumble bee

Oh what a lovely affair -
to be but a little sunflower
unaware of its existence
yet beautifully alive
to not care a hoot of the world otherwise

Oh what a lovely affair -
to be but a humble bumble bee
fearless of any competitors
yet a content winner on the sunflower it finds
to care less about what the world would surmise.

Gargi

Baby blue bird

One night, a blue baby bird
she confessed to me -
how lovely it was really
to be forever flying free.
How exciting it is, the possibility
of exploring the realms of infinity.
She told me once, of the blood red stones
the ones she found when she flew alone
she spoke of how they glistened at nights
she spoke of the sea, the sand and the infinite land.
This bird, she comes so often to me
she speaks of miracles, magic, hope and glee
She kindles in me this desire deep and quivering
of love and life and unearthly ecstasy.
She is my happiness with god given wings
She brings to me the sweetest of things.
She urges me to break the walls and fly with intensity
She prods me to do what is deemed an impossibility
I have always thought she deserved a name of real beauty
From today, we shall call her serendipity.

For my favorite english word - serendipity :)

Gargi