At darkness, I screamed
To light, I whispered
To air, I sang
To all the world
I simply smiled.

Caste away to the sublime
I hear bells chime
Ringing,
So I drown, deep
Into silence.

Good times, no crimes.

Louder and louder
The air breathes
Sharper and sharper
My voice weeps
I now bow
To silence.

No leaves pass
Quite unusual
It is only a passing wind
Through my skin and the other,
Emptiness.

Filling gaps, seeking sounds
Finding the void
Uncomfortable and now I walk.
Further and further
Gathering light and sound, I move.

*It's hard to explain but there is this turmoil I feel which I've tried to put into this poem. Shall continue later.

One Moment

No song, no triumphs are good
For the soul alone weeps
And smiles of gentle beauty
No longer glow.

The highest crest
Have I fallen from
Even though it is yesterday
I still have wronged.

Thoughts often charred
Crisis often unheard
Because
Love not forgotten
But sense indeed.

Quite far, quite bizarre
For always knowing
And yet doubting
The only chance.

Who's pleased ?
Or perhaps not
Truth alone
Saw and laughed.

That moment
And now
Has caused
Revolution of the mind.




P.S-to be completed later.

ARCHIVE.
I found this poem of mine, written in grade8 in this booklet called 'Images of Innocence' published in 2005 by the English Department.


WAR
The epaulette, far from a distance;
the flame of courage that I often desire.
The courageous mind shows no resistance,
Just a second, I see the fire.
As you are, even they are
Strong and bold enough to begin the war.

One is injured, one is dead;
Still you show no signs of deserting,
This is the war, you've lead.
Stand no still, continue the combat,
Wait until the last breath,
Till you face death.

Over the seas, through the mountains
The victory that you wish, you must seek.
The counquered territories, the soldiers
Don't feel giulty and remorse
For the many you've killed.
Think of nothing but your destiny.

Now I reminisce those war days,
Cherish all the memories I have
Sing to my grandchildren rhythmic rhymes,
With blood pouring down as tears.

The vision can never fade
For the efforts I made,
And in my memory,
Celebrated to honour the soldiers
Who carried the heavy rifle on their shoulders.

P.S I was rather tempted to edit it because at parts I feel stupid but i gladly resisted.

Comeback.

Okay.
I do realize.
I know.
I really have mastered the art of delaying, of latecomings and more appropriately, late posting.
So, yes, I was listening to the soundtrack of 'Chariots of Fire' by Vangelis and that is masterpiece.
Sadly, Rahman's Jai Ho is far away from a musical symphony like that of Vangelis.
Am I to blame the time the movie is/was set in? The country? The director's bad choice?
Perhaps Dilli6 Drained Rahman of all his best.

So I've made my comeback and I'm glad.
There are bigger plans for this vacation .
Hope's there's something major to write about because this randomness is really getting quite boring.
Have been catching on a number of movies and think I found Seven Pounds pretty brilliant.
Will Smith worked his genius.
Maupassant seems boring to be read now, let's see, some suggestions should be great.
I'm thinking some utterly hideous Sheldon kind of fiction-pulf fiction?Is that what it is called?

Liars Paradise.

A holiday has been declared for Saturday but I have little to be happy about.
'Holiday'-it's such a misnomer here at Assam Valley that I simply cannot help but laugh at the futility of having one.
It's an immediate chance for a million more practice sessions; most often; unrequited.
Just when I felt the desperate need for sleep, to catch the first movie in the past three months and perhaps even having something creative on my blog-I can see the dreadful and undesirable Saturday ruthlessly approaching .
My first poem with some romantic element(in today's term) shall remain incomplete till eternity.
Another awful yet rooted story is half way through typing process.
But, I can only complain, whine and even wail if the need may come, which undoubtedly is close.

Rush, and more rush is the way of life. Incomplete prep work, dark circles of the worst kind and constant chiding has become an essential aspect of my daily life here.

And to think of it all,
I am writing a 'quiet' poem.

"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it."
OSCAR WILDE

I so relate to it that I could hardly believe it when I found this one, however, from Wilde you do not expect some long drawn moral-ish jargon.

Man's progress, especially in the last few years, has been swift and remarkable yet he continues to degenerate into the depths of regression as rapidly as he has attained success.

We are all progressing and developing, but only into becoming more ignorant and intolerant. It is unsettling to see how we actually we seem to personify  hypocrisy. We advertise for "fair, beautiful brides" and "eligible Brahmin grooms" in matrimonial sites; vilify the inclusion of financially secure Scheduled Castes and Tribes, and as if these with their colour and caste bias are not enough, we now give vent to our angst in the most primitive of ways. I speak of the rage of my fellow Indians against the recent racist attacks in Australia. That simply is not fair and if I may add, neither is the racism.

Also, I find the situation rife with irony. The students that have been attacked  have apparently chosen the country for a 'better' education, but what great education is it offering, I wonder, when it fails to instill among its own people respect for the varied shades of ethnicities. We discriminate, we are communal and yet, we dare to call ourselves educated. We suffer from pomposity  and our vision is narrow. What use of an education if it does not teach us patience, tolerance and above all, humanity?