points of view

When I sit down to write a post, I often worry if I am able to convey what I am feeling with honesty, in a voice which is my own and on top of that, hopefully in a well crafted sentence, not gratuitous (I have been dying to use that word!) though. Now my posts are merely a paragraph or two, maybe with a picture thrown in and so I am filled with awe for the intelligence and sweat of all those writers whose books / poetry I enjoy.

I am a bit quirky in the sense, that I enjoy, (its almost a physical sensation) an intelligent, honest mind. That intelligence might be in a song, a conversation, image or the written word. It gives me a high. When I had started blogging I had no idea, this would become a place for my daily fix for the aforementioned buzz. I have come across such incredible writers here!!! Phew! They write in different voices and I recognize each one by their individual voice by now. They write about their lives, their desires, their fears, and their points of view. The beauty of their minds shines through in their words and i enjoy reading them. Thank you guys! All of you.

However, I come across some comments on blogs, usually anonymous by people who feel smarter when they run down others and it makes me sooo angry! I wonder at these people, I wonder at their spirits. I am not saying one should only say nice things or not criticize but its the mean-ness which galls! Anyway they are small stuff, should not sweat them. So adios for a few days, I am gone tomorrow. ;)

june later

The wind carries the scent of the soaked earth on its fingers. I can feel those fingers above my lips and my nostrils flare, just a bit, as I deeply inhale the sultry warm satisfied scent and I get so excited with this smell.

The monsoons, the dark, swollen clouds are here, bearing beneficence. Suddenly there is twinkling gladness in the hearts, the greens are greener and the sun is milder like a father in a good mood.

I like my skin when it rains. Its moister and I don't really mind the sweat too in these times as it cools me down. Just a few days earlier and it was too hot even to sweat. I would get headaches almost daily, sort of like a fever. Thank god for those tiny tablets of Paracetmol, I must have them on me, for I never know when a headache strikes. Those drying winds and that angry sun have made their exit for this part of the play.

The sound of ceaseless water dripping and the cooler winds are still to come but the promise has been made.

There is something about this time of the year so special. I think the romance of the clouds is scattered with the rains and it imbues all that which it soaks.

Poetry tastes better with raindrops, I think.

Tell me, is the rose naked...? by Pablo Neruda

Tell me, is the rose naked Or is that her only dress?

Why do trees conceal The splendor of their roots?

Who hears the regrets Of the thieving automobile?

Is there anything in the world sadder

than a train standing in the rain?

Bricks

bricks upon bricks

and they make up a wall

they go high and they go wide

and they go nowhere at all.

bricks upon bricks

and you can break your head

against the wall.

bricks upon bricks

one day they will all

crumble and fall.

bricks upon bricks

and they make up a wall

they go high and they go wide

and they go nowhere at all.

collected sign posts

It’s a terrible longing when you cannot even put a name to it. Restlessness. There is a need to be somewhere else yet strangely totally at home with myself, here, now. I lay for a long time on my unmade bed, over the disturbed quilts, thinking about nothing at all. On my tongue, names kept rolling along like a slideshow on a lollipop and they all seemed like a taste remembered but not the flavor sought.

Names are good; they are like the filing system of the brain, the single word codes to many meters of memories. Those memories are like tiny maps of time and me at a certain place and those names are the signposts, some saying don’t go there, that road is no good, others doubtful and still others, good enough campsites. Some fractions of those names belong as much to me as they belong to the namesake. I own some parts of those names, those parts which were with me and which I took away with me. I carry those names but I don’t need to or maybe I do, as signposts to me. I think there is something wrong with this. Those signposts are pointing backwards but I have to follow the road ahead.

My friend has been calling me to her city for a mini holiday and I think will go soon. I can hardly wait to see her. We always have so much fun, being silly together. Even when we talk about sad stuff, we end up laughing like a couple of pre-adolescent girls. The first time we bonded I think, was the night she slept over in my house and we talked the night through. I don’t remember what we talked about, we must have been six or seven or maybe younger but I remember my mum had laid out a bed for us in the living room and we were sharing it, sharing stuff we could tell absolutely nobody else, mighty important stuff. When we needed to turn over, we switched sides so that we could continue talking to each other, facing each other. She lives in another city. We have spent our lives visiting each other and yet we still have loads to talk about. I must add here, that there have been long spaces in between where we almost lost contact but when we met again those spaces were only just some more stuff to talk about.

I tried writing a bit of erotica today but it ended up sounding false and sort of clichéd. It was true in parts but not true enough. It is important to be true although it is so easy to lie. To steal a heart, one can lie. One can lie to build a home but neither that heart nor that home will remain happy if bought with lies…. although lies are so tempting…like detours to the goalpost. Some guiding souls will tell you when you lie but most will not. You got to watch out for your own little lies.

“This land is your land, this land is my land/ from California to the New York island.”, an old song written by somebody called Woody Guthrie, has been playing in my head, all this while, in the scratchy old voice of Mr. Bruce Springsteen tempting me to sing and all I can remember are the first two lines.

of sea and tea

I dreamt of a lovely painting this morning, so like Finnegan I thought I will write about it. It was of a sea in turbulence and sky the same as sea. There was no disctinction between the two. It was done in horizontal brush strokes of light and dark shades of mauve and lilac, almost blue. From the middle of the sea, something rose up, perhaps a gigantic tide or was it a lightning which penetrated the sea, I am not sure. It seemed like the statue of liberty but it was not a woman, just the shape of her famous outline to give you a better idea. It was only the difference in the depth that made me distinguish the sky from the sea and the enerrrgy and the vigour of that thing in between, for the colour was same throughout. I found it curious to dream about the sea, as i don't live next to one besides its been a long time since i saw one. Perhaps Its the soaring tempartures in these parts which made me dream of water, so much water.

tea in bed
morning comes
with each sip.

dribbling honey on
buttered toast
licking fingers clean

scanning newspapers

hurried search

butterflies in the belly.

hurried rushed
harried frazzled
go, go, go!

Completed by .:A:.

...he holds me
.........spins me
..............around

faster,faster,faster!

...turning all
.......known into
.............a blur

never let me go.

... And
...... The blur
......... Passes you by

hold me

... As
...... He holds you
......... And spins you

tight



.:A:. left the verse on the comments page of the earlier post, which completes it in a way i had wanted to but could not. hence am posting it again, completed, thanks .:A:.

held

..................................he holds me
.....................spins me
.........around

faster, faster, faster!



.....................................turning all
......................known into
..............a blur

never let me go.

past expiry date

-Why are you telling me that you love me, now? -I don’t want to hear it anymore, I tell him.

Why do I feel this strange numbness in my heart, did I not once, want him to tell me that he loves me, why does it not mean anything now? But I don’t tell him that. These words they do nothing for me now. I use to fantasize about these words, I use to imagine that they would thrill me, but it is just a big nothing now, through and through.

-I wish you well but please get it, its bloody over, it was over when you turned your back on me, I tell him through tears which he can’t see. –I let go of my pride for you but all you did was cringe at my cravenness at my stupidity, yes that’s what you called it, then, remember?

-You are just drunk; keep the phone down.
But he keeps on talking, talking, saying words which would have someday, long ago, made me very happy, even though they would have been lies then just like they are lies today, drunken lies, fooling himself and fooling me.

-Why don’t you ever mean what you say? I cry, I meant when I had told you that I loved you and I mean it today when I say it is over.

To amuse yourself, you want to string along my heart and in some stupid way of yours, you do care but you care in a way that means nothing to me now. I want more, I want real! You aren’t that, baby and I finally learned it.

Still, wishing you well.

Mushing around

Silky skeins of amber light weaving a web of light and shadows across her bed, across her back, as she lay asleep, lost.

His warm fingers itching to get lost in that web of light, fingers warmer than sun kissed sand when he noticed her feet peeking out from beneath the sheets.

Feet, whose soles were pale and toes, which were struggling with the sheet, searching for warmth...searching for his hands.

His hands took and then rubbed first one foot and then the other. Rubbed them to warmth, rubbed them to rosy reds.

As she lay there being rubbed and warmed, she thought to herself, this is what love is all about, someone to rub your feet when they are cold. While he felt his heart swell, thinking…this must be love, when your hands alone are more precious and sought than the sun itself.

She is the country he is meant to shine upon, as he is the sun she is lost without.

Too simplistic? Perhaps…but what more is there to it?

Noontide

noontide
an eagle-sentinel
on the rooftop

drained.
life almost still
closed for lunch.

summer songs
wailing winds
round the sun.

parched lips
serenading
you.

Nothing new

You drive me crazy with your madness for more. It’s never enough or its never good enough. I am so tired, I look in your eyes and I can almost taste the bile in your words, the bile on your tounge.
I gave you more than I could, I never held back anything and you took it, you took it all with your grubby greedy hands but then you wiped your hands off your sweet lips and you spit on my face.
I am losing my mind. I am losing you. You stand in a corner always berating me. I am scared of you. Vacuous smiles and empty words are all that you have for me. You are a burden I must bear. You tear my heart to pieces and then you chew those bits of my heart, even as I look on.

I thought you will change, I thought this will be a new day, oh sure, its a new day but nothing new about you.

this did not happen to me.

oopsie-daisy

encircled
in her tiny fingers
many hearts.

her rosebud lips
leave, kisses
on our hearts

baby scent
sweet and milky
- ooh my heart.

God bless all the babies in the world! They are so vulnerable, they make you want to become stronger and prettier and wiser and so much more than what you are today. They make you realize the important things in life, the good things, the correct things, the little things, the big things.

She smiles in her sleep,
god blesses and god keeps.

God's tiny miracle!

kisses
Originally uploaded by gulnaz.

Allah blessed my brother and my family with a lil baby daughter today. I held the wee bonnie lass for a few seconds and it was like holding a handful of roses or candy fluff...she is so soft and tiny and all pink!
She is kept in the nursery today but she is fine otherwise. Though she was born a few weeks earlier and through a C-section, she is a healthy 7-pound and the mama's is fine too! I am sooo happy, quite overwhelmed with emotions, will write about those emotions later, just wanted to share the good news first and thank you everyone for their good wishes. I am quite drunk on happiness right now to compose my thoughts. :)

grimy gritty glass

everything within you is gold
everything without you is sold
in vain, i love you, i'm told
damn you - you are hard and cold


....I'm damned if I don't make you lick these tears!
and so she swore, biting down her lip.