Woe-man

Out of the rib of man, she was created,
The source of life and mother of all men,
(And women), her yoke made heavy
By the first sin of disobedience.

Yes, she was not alone in her sin,
But his paradise was taken away
Though not as condemned as her,
In sinning against the Creator.

Thus sorrow became her fate,
She shrieked as her flesh tore
And brought forth her children
And her husband smiled proudly.

A strange tale is a woman’s
Whose flesh takes a man’s name.

Love at first sight

She stood before the holy place hands folded,
Her face all aglow with the beauty of her heart,
Her eyes closed as she muttered her prayers,
Enough wisdom to live well and nothing else.

Stepping out into the courtyard, her eyes met,
A radiant face, equally aglow with radiance,
Purity and love so much that she forgot herself
Felt as if she was looking in a mirror.

Climbing down the steps, her racing heart,
Flashed to her a future of mutual joys,
Her heart, a butterfly fluttered and flew
As she saw the rituals around the holy fire.

She mused wisdom indeed God has given
To walk away from love at first sight.

Where knowledge is free

 “You and your Google Books”, that’s what my friends keep telling me all the time. A few years earlier, friends teased me about quoting from books and living by some book or the other and planning to write books. 

But now with the changing times, I swear by Google Books. Anything from Literary Theory (I’m a student of English literature; the fascination never ends) to cooking, I find this library extremely useful. 

Even the MLA handbook has a format for Google Book entries. So, this is a season of reading but not in any library but from where I am. Thanks to technology!

Orchids

Expression

  FIVE years have past; five summers, with the length
  Of five long winters! William Wordsworth 

A mere string of words
A string of musical notes
All come from the soul,
Of an artistic mind.

A harmony that creates
When from all around
Noises scream at you
Real and imaginary.

A monumental silence
Eclipses everything else,
Unspoken unuttered
Unlived unspent.

Five years have gone,
Since I lost my words.

Paradise

With laser eyes, my paradise open to me,

With hungry eyes, I savour the words given me.

Little did I know how much I am grateful

Until I had to write a few lines about you.

The smell of books- new, fresh, musty, old,

The thirst of knowledge, ancient, new,

A plethora of tongues give us news

Of what happens around in the world.

A familiar terrain when fraught with doubt,

When dumped with work from all around,

A haunt of silence and discipline,

A place to complete education.

For contemplation or for distraction,

You still are to me my inspiration. 

Blog

Blogs are dying, the newspaper said,
And just remembered one that I had,
So thought of checking its pulse,
To see if it is still alive or dead.

Creative Writing

This is from an article that I read the other day. Motivation and Creativity: Effects of Motivational Orientation on Creative Writers by Teresa M. Amabile of Brandeis University. The study focuses on creative writing as an intrinsic activity that writers do with no expectation of any reward. Many people who participated in this study named the following as reasons why they wrote:

• You get a lot of pleasure out of reading something good that you have written
• You enjoy the opportunity for self-expression
• You achieve new insights through your writing
• You derive satisfaction from expressing yourself clearly and eloquently
• You feel relaxed when writing
• You like to play with words
• You enjoy becoming involved with ideas, characters, events, and images in your writing. 

water lily

Perfect

Someday, I want to write the perfect words for what I have in mind. Perfect words written to evoke the perfect feeling. The best of all phrases, wrapped together with the right mix of spices, none too much, just right, none too serious nor too trivial, just mixed like life.

Someday, I would like to gather all my gains and losses, inheritance of words as well as silences and create new music out of them, blending words of joy and love and pain and everything into a perfect little potpourri just like life.But such a perfect day, when perfect thoughts melt into perfect words is yet to be. 

Tiny Feet

May your tiny feet walk beside our big ones,
May your tiny, rosy, tender, toes learn to love the touch of earth,
May you know the night and the sunshine,
May you know your own darkness and light
May you hear the music of rain pitter-pattering on the roof,
May you believe in fairy-tales and epics, dreams and God,
May your eyes, bright and wild shine with laughter as kisses rain on you.
May you touch the tender velvet of flowers,
May you learn simplicity with grace,
May you bask in the beauty of your own souls.

May you learn to love the word and use it to heal all wounds,
May your light shine in our lives and make it lovelier than before,
May you love God as lovingly as you love your father.
May you spread the joy of life in everyone you commune with,
May your eyes be deep and discerning to know the world around you,
May your laughter and smiles be the sunshine in our homes,
May Lord bless you in every step, every dream, every moment of your life,
May you learn the art of transforming thoughts into action.
May you connect with goodness in every dimension,
May you love knowledge and use it with wisdom and serve.


May your heart be lifted by simple joys,
May you sing cheerfully and dance to the music,
May you heart be filled with love for God and others,
May you accept all blessings with gratitude,
May you value time and its passage.
May your thoughts flow in a clear stream of purity,
May you face the world with courage and love,
May your presence be a delight, your love a guide,
May you see change as a rule of life,
May you recognise the good in the rude and the shrewd in the nice.


May the fire of love burn bright in your heart,
May your dreams touch the sky,
May you heart bounce with joy at the sight of a bright blue sky,
May your soul move in unison with the winds, the waves and the orbits of planets,
May your being listen to sweet music sung by the tender moonlit night.
May you live by your own thoughts and dreams,
May you see the inner light in another's eyes,
May you trust in Providence for helping you every moment,
May you love beauty and create for yourself a beautiful life,
May the memory of lullabies bring comfort later in life.

May you value the lessons of life; its sudden turns and tides,
May the seasons teach you lessons of life,
May nature teach you the symbols and signs,
May spring bring you fresh flowers of joy,
May summer teach you courage and endurance,
May autumn talk with you about moving on,
May winter tell you hidden secrets of rebirth.
May you protect the earth from destruction and contamination,
May your life be spotless and pure, may your actions be wise and guided,
May your heart swirl in joy and weep in pain,
May you be courageous enough to weep and show your affection.

May you be kind, considerate, truthful and loyal in your dealings.
May you know life as a tough race as well as a beautiful day in the woods,
May you know its calm flow as well as its torrents,
May you learn the paradoxes and extremes,and find your own balance,
May you use humour to takethe dreariness out of tough times,
May you learn to love deeply, purely and passionately,
May you know our own strengths and weaknesses and strive to see them in balance,
May you learn what to love and what to hate,
What to choose and what to discard,
May you read with a smile all the blessings that a fond soul wishes for you!

Favourite words

Make your own bible.  Select and collect all the words and sentences that in all your readings have been to you like the blast of the trumpet.Ralph Waldo Emerson

Every reader has certain idiosyncrasies, words that s/he loves to visit time and again. But not every reader is able to gather all the words that opened new vistas and changed the boundaries altogether.

Once upon a time, I had a book of favourite verses, of course handwritten and very valuable. It was given as a gift to a very special person. Now, if I write a collection of inspiring quotes and poems, the starting entries might be the same as in the previous book.

Different kinds of entries might follow marking the growth of a mind during ten years. Some of the entries are already posted in the blog under the tag Inspiring words

English silence

I remember reading a tribute to OV Vijayan in an English daily. It narrated a story about his attempts to write a novel in English. Being an MA in English, it should have been an easy job for him; but once he started writing, he understood that his hand was blocked and that he couldn't write with flow. So he tried his mother-tongue and we have the historical Khasakinte Ithihasam. This anecdote stayed in my memory, because at that time, I was an MA student, eager and enthusiastic to devour whatever literary trivia that came my way. Now, five years later, I find that I'm still enthusiastic about writers and their idiosyncrasies.

Home

The metaphysical question popped someday;

When you wondered how a home could crumble,

Tremble and crash without digits on a Richter scale,

Without physical quakes or forces of destruction.

Certainly, it could crumble everyday with a tiff;

Might remain joyless, empty of sunshine and light

By premature deaths that leave eternal chasms,

Or by calamities silently borne with muted tears.

How else could you describe that fleeting security,

A little sunshine and feelings of coziness and comfort,

The cuddling warmth and the elusive happiness

Juxtaposed against violent fights and silences.

It still crumbles everyday with little misunderstandings,

As it has always done since you started all raging fires.

For Baby

My soul you are; my child,
My baby fluttering inside.

My days are full of longing,
Dreams of being your mom.

You were a dream before;
Now waiting at my door.

What bundle of surprises,
Wisdom, virtues and vices.

What a bond will ours be? 
I wait for time to tell me.

Unborn child, my little one,
Teach me again how to love.

Hibiscus

Winca Rosa

Snapshots from my Garden

Anger

There's a soul in me
Who hates to cuss 
And be cussed,
or even a single word
that flies from anger.

But there's a mind,
a little thwarted
a little violent
Who loves to break
someone's complacence.

on such days,my mind
Breaks out of silence,
thrashes the opponent
with bitter words
quite unexpected.

a little remorse felt,
but more satisfaction
at raised eyebrows
that show surprise
and a little awe.

Sunshine

You advise me to write about my life and the things I have known closely and clearly; beings that I have cared about the most; so that you can read into my person and know the workings of my mind, which changes from transparent to translucent to opaque all the time. All you want to do is to know me inside out.

But when I think upon writing about my life, a rein of reticence falls on my hand. It pauses suddenly. It thinks twice before going into details- about writing out its venomous accusations and repressed memories of loss and longing. It hates to point fingers at the usual figures of contradiction who inspire mixed feelings of love, hate, fear and freedom.

Is there truth or only versions of it-yours, mine, theirs- that have become too vague to be recalled with accuracy. So, this heart dislikes to break its own shell of peace and refuses to indulge in resurrecting skeletons in the cupboard, that too in these days of love and sunshine.