April 18, 2011

Operation - Critiques, Vote Of Thanks, Appreciation


Since Its time for  Saturday Centus, I am saving it for letter O....  I've always loved  lists, And as the assignment demands and hasn't stated otherwise, I am selecting  3 posts(not reviewed yet) randomly  to review....they are works I have read and reread...whew...I would be eating 100 words  for each, most likely 100 + word review for all three... Off we go...
1.   The first by  up in the cosmos @
 

The tears they fall and I wonder why?
It’s almost like my skin’s just too dry.
They stream and flow like rain from the sky.
I feel maybe something’s gone awry.

Outside the snow has come and gone
and all I see is that dirty lawn
but soon all the new growth will spawn
all the while as spring flaunts its brawn.

It’s said April showers bring May flowers.
Do the tears I cry have those same powers?
My cheeks do get rosy after some hours
but I think it’s the salt in them that scours.

It’s a time of renewal, not one of demise.


    The author has chosen to convey in rhyming verse, starting off on a sad melancholic note, using  a powerful metaphor. She speaks of the ending and  arrival of the seasons and the changes brought along.....a reference perhaps to the state of mind and heart that is  accepting and healing....The last verse has the reader ponder on the power of tears to rejuvenate and cleanse the heart and soul....reminding me of Gandalf's words ”not all tears are bad”  
The end sums up the beauty of the philosophical words by leaving a beacon of hope.


The second by Christine
http://aninklingofsorts.blogspot.com/2011/04/question-of-day.html

So I asked my kids:
"what do you think about when you hear, April showers bring May flowers."
 the Reader said, "I think about showers and flowers."
the Helper said, "lying on flowers while it's raining."
the Professor said, "I think about people wearing flowers on their private parts
while taking a shower."
the Artist said, "our really ugly shower curtain."
 Is it that bad?  I guess I need to take a trip to Walmart next week.

This piece uses the conversational style to make the point with a dose of humour added .
It demonstrates the diverse thought process and the association that is unique to each one of us even on a simple, common topic.
The author provides a wonderful example of stereotypes and their expected reactions.
The fact that they were all taking of the same thing, in this case the shower curtain, in subtly different ways is brought out in the end...a master stroke.

The last one by  CJ Schlottman



Arrangements of flowers decorated the house. The date, April 10, 1955, 36 hours since Estelle’s husband died in a car crash.
She and her four children, the youngest two months old, rode to the church in silence. Grandmother smoothed the childrens’ clothes and hair.
At the church, the perfume of the flowers assaulted Estelle’s senses, making her almost swoon, but she was not a woman to swoon. Head high and carrying the baby, she passed the open casket and made the other three look at their dead father. 
“April showers bring May flowers?” She would never enjoy flowers again - never.

This is a moving, succinct tale of a tragic event recollected, as seen from the eyes of one of the children perhaps .
It depicts the strength and will of the recently widowed Estelle as her husband's final journey commences....
The flowers here, are perfectly used to describe her true emotional state beneath the calm exterior.... that she tries to pass on the children.
The author has brought out the story through striking imagery and the final words are creatively used to convey the turning of symbols of joy into reminders of pain.

2.  My vote of thanks to Deirdra at http://astorybookworld.blogspot.com for the Creative blogger award ....
and to Jingle Poetry And Thursday Rally for giving  me a choice of 1 to 5 awards, not being  that greedy, I take the one I feel fits me best....

3. Which reminds me that its time I acknowledge my earliest supporters and daresay “friends” with the  delectable  blog award (my creation) to the Enticing Eight whose wordsman/wordswomanship I enjoy and who browse through patiently all that I spew...You don’t have to display the award if it makes you shy.  ;P 

4.  Well Nonna  Beach@ 

 For reviewing my centus with such honesty and glowing words you get the cool blogger award... !

The awards are displayed here.

April 16, 2011

Nebulous Voices - Haiku 13

The thoughts meander /
Precious memories blaze by /
Distant resonance //



April 15, 2011

Mistake, Honestly

Weary,  delayed flight
grabbed the bag off the shelf
rushed down
against the chilly breeze...
“That’s mine,  a Louis Vuitton!!, here’s yours “
bristled the loud voice on the bus.
All eyes on her,
red faced, muffled a swift apology.
“Don’t fret”,  said his kind voice from her side,
“Must be fake like her accent!!”

  





April 14, 2011

Kafkaesque Love




The starry night,
a red moon crescent,
the rhythm unfolds...
take a step forward
with fresh hope lingering
warily, the distance kept
the tables turned abrupt
 the warrior sizing me up
a cruel smile, a rough tumble,
beaten, retreat into the cocoon.


Now it’s you, stepping
 on the invisible line
pushing, prodding,
in disturbing waves
another piece of my heart
on the floor stomped,
the bright red blood
trickling under your
hob nailed shoes.



Dawn and momentary succour
to gather dense thoughts
find the will to break free
from the obsessed, maniacal
gaze you bestow.



Footfalls of the evening
all in vain
This submission of  mine*
Still could be the death of me*
To the dance floor we take
long ago willingly
often now at your behest.

 Another twirl, another piece broken
till I can leave
without a backward glance.
Until you, someday,
 see me for myself
Our love story not,
nor hints of normalcy,
the makings of a tragedy.

{Written 6 yrs ago, except for the * lines added recently.... :) }





April 12, 2011

Just A Reminder - Yuri Gagarin

 There she was...
after a dizzing burst
into the cold dark space
leaving jet streaks behind...
The enchantress
so blue, even Misha's eyes
paled in comparison
Numero Uno means little
In this void....
Hammering heart
as Home beckons
Nikita seemed happy for once.
What’s with the Babooshka and loaves
When samogonka would make me float.



("babooshka" - grandmother, "samogonka" or "moonshine" - homemade vodka, Nikita Khrushchev - the then Russian President.)




April 11, 2011

Insipid Interview ??



April showers bring May flowers...

The words kept echoing in her mind....nervous to the point of sweaty palms, this wasn’t doing her any  good.
The sheer number of ties and jackets in her peripheral vision sounded the death knell in her guts....what was she thinking, turning up?...the entire city had landed up here, well all graduates from the top colleges at least.
The interview surpassed her expectations, the panel of seven did intimidate her but fumbled across to the finishing line....
Until  asked how soon she could join...blurted out without a second thought, “April”. Blushing at the puzzled faces , realised it was almost September.






April 09, 2011

Hunger Strike - My Take

The occasion called and many rose to it...not all could tamper their schedule to represent...the ones that did, were splendid and articulate...bringing to its knees...an adamant, corrupt serpent of a government was no mean achievement...
They fasted under camera glare...I skipped my dinner in the unseen confines of my den...raised slogans, placards, held candlelight vigils...I applauded quietly forming the backdrop...
The goals achieved, the promise proclaimed before millions of witnesses...they parted, extolling the virtues of meeting again...
I wondered if things would indeed change how many of those raddled, weary denizens could withstand the urge to take the easy way out of bribe and scribe....or stay steadfast on the moral high ground they preached from, to one and all.

April 08, 2011

Girl Child - An Alternate Reality





Burned to ashes...


Never to be held to the warm bosom.
As I watched, weak and helpless,
The comforting embrace of known arms 
Enclosed in their hold, not for long.
Mud I smelt, wet, dust caused sniffles
Calloused hands unwrapped the blanket
Shivering  body laid to rest...
The billowing earth, burning lungs,
Choked cry stuck in the chest
Wriggled, twisted in agony,
The ochre colours blinding the vision,
Left to breath my last.
The heavens sadly smiled,
Warm burrowing hands desperate in their search
Burning tears of rage, echoing growls from deep within
My saviour stood fearful
Till my feeble cries of thanks he heard.
Grandfather never minded
Was his daughter's last thread left
You murdered me almost, father
Your own flesh and blood
Wouldn’t it have made a difference 
 Had I been a born a boy??





April 07, 2011

Friends - Love Them Or Leave them - Here To Stay


I came, I saw, They conquered 
Anxious
Ballistic
Charming
Diffident
I came, I saw, They conquered
Enriching
Fierce
Gullible
Honest
I came, I saw, They conquered
Inspiring
Jealous
Kempt
Lovable
I came, I saw, They conquered
Miserable
Nerdy
Opinionated
Popular
I came, I saw, They conquered
Querulous
Restless
Sacrificing
Temperamental
I came, I saw, They conquered
Unique
Versatile
Worldly
Xenophobic
I came, I saw, They conquered
Yesterday’s
Zenith
We met, We lingered, We parted, We reminisced.
April 06, 2011

Enterprising - Breaking Male Street Bastions


The dawn filtered through the flimsy curtain.Time to hit the road again...a quick breakfast....morning ablutions completed, the door to her tiny tenement locked.The drizzle made her glad at fixing the shades last week.Taking her usual spot at the stand, she awaited the call...kick starting with ease, drove at a comfortable speed...obvious.with kids in the back seat. Dropping them off to school 4 kms away, she parked near the gates....early morning meant that she never lacked company. Soon it was noon, busy more often than not...home, a leisurely lunch later; she left for the weekly meeting at the tiny shed. Two hours of advice and tips later, an urgent call to the railway station had her rushing off.The meeting always brought back old memories of her violent marriage, her escape to Delhi, her house and job hunts and to the curious path life had taken her..
Being the first female autorickshaw driver in North India hadn't been easy. The lack of funds, uncooperative, disgruntled male drivers had made the first few years miserable...her commuters,specially women had made her stick on...now 9 years after her first ride, she was a proud owner of her own vehicle.




















April 05, 2011

Dutiful Daughter And Wife


She seemed out of spirits...the normally bouncy 24 yr old wore a pensive look. Even her favourite niece’s antics couldn’t erase the sadness etched on her face.


She didn’t pry, not her nature but sensed something amiss. She would ensure that these two weeks brought her sister’s old self back. Sure enough, by the end of the fortnight Kaveri seemed reluctant to go back....
The sisters had been close in childhood but the last 3 years had seen them drift apart.
Marriage, motherhood and living far away had made her unaware of certain things back home, not totally oblivious.
 Shifting back to childhood city seemed perfect at the moment. The first few days went in settling her children into a new environment, summer holidays and half a dozen cousins scampering around made things easier. She and her husband had just picked out a small but beautiful apartment...the advance paid, he was awaiting the loan clearance from the bank he worked in, they would be moving into their dream home within a month or two. Her happiness overshadowed by the vibes around the family dinner.
She questioned her elder sisters.....the answers saddened her and her husband deeply. So much had happened in the time they had been away. Her father’s ancestral home was heavily mortgaged. His brothers withdrawing their capital from their small wholesale firm, competition, manufacturers’ misgivings and rising debts meant he would soon be bankrupt. Unable to sell the ancient home to modern buyers, Kaveri’s marriage alliances drying up as a result.
They mulled over it for a month....the loan approval bringing little joy. Her husband loved her father to the point of adoration, losing his own at a tender age may have had something to do with it. He wanted to help but how....until Kalpana had a brainwave. They decided to postpone their dream and pay for the wedding instead (Indian weddings being costly affairs hosted by the bride’s family)...
The only glitch, her mother would never agree....Suresh decided on something better, buy off the ancestral home where they could live together with her parents and his mother. He wanted a big house of his own, having been at the mercy of relatives for the first 15 years of his life. She was reluctant as the aging home was more trouble than worth, feeling the first option to be the best, besides her brother’s wife was a vile woman she preferred to stay away from....
His mind made, nothing she said would sway him...the home changed hands, the marriage happened as planned.....things were bad from day one...crumbling interiors and exteriors that ate all their savings and a sister in law who made live hell in their own home. She never thought of making her brother leave, she loved him too much, his handicap rendering his earning capacity limited.
 Two year later when her husband got transferred, relief coursed through her veins...in a new city, another rented home, watching her nine and seven year old sleep...often she wondered if her notion of love and duty hadn’t stolen their dreams away.

 Count 512
April 04, 2011

Companion - An Ode To Thee

A white vision of loveliness approached
 The doomsday come and gone forth.
Moody and cantankerous
Breaking down at junctures of urgency
She made clutching hairs in despair
A meaningless, everyday gesture,



Her gaze loomed across time and space
Civilizations and mindplay, all a day’s worth.
Alas that good things come to a closure
So, it was, as the Wise Anon are wont to say.
True friends with benefits, never in the vulgar way
The parting amicable yet disturbing
 Pieces of heart and mind cut with invisible hands.

Adorning someone else’s room,
Enriching some other lives,
Frivolous pursuits of another like minded
Ageing grace she epitomises
My beautiful, wondrous companion no more,
For a span of eight earth years
My precious secret keeper – my Pentium 4. 






( Well, Aesthetic Blasphemy...your post and your reply comment prompted this...)

Succinctly Yours - MFM # 2



Lost in heavy trance
her son, glistening eyes saw
the bike rider start.

he drove on; unaware of shouts to stop,
she still stood, awaiting.

Added to Haiku Heights (first 3 lines), Grandma's Goulash (all 5 lines).




# 39 RandomMusings For The Day

If being a blood sucker is cool, aren't mosquitoes the coolest?....they don’t even sparkle in the sun. ;D



April 03, 2011

The Journey


Let me go..
Let me find my own road

Every journey begins with a desire,
To see, to feel, to touch the world
With all we possess.

Let me go...
Let me find the fork I need to take.
Everyone needs a marker
To say they passed this way..
Let me be the marker
Of my own new way

Each and every soul has a story to unravel,
A journey to commence,
Some need a guiding light,
Others a glance that propels them ahead,
And then there are those that need
To see the destination from afar.
And through all this only the wise realise,
whatever be the end, or the middle
The beginning is all that matters....

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 19.














































Haiku 12

Rajasthani Puppets : Image courtesy Flickr


Puppets of the world /


Brother always quoted him /


Years later, agree //








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