Monday, March 31, 2008


Have been hibernating for too long. So picked up this tag from Amazing Grey's blog. Some poetaster rhymes for my patient, forbearing fellow-bloggers-

A for anger, and a bit of heaven when we make up

B for banana pancakes, brush strokes across my easel

C for chocolates, dark, sinful, caffeine in a coffee cup

D for daddy and death when pop goes the weasel

E for emotions when expectations ensnare

F for football matches, food, freedom , fiction

G for Gypsy blood, a mind game of solitaire

H for haiku, hide and seek and hazelnut addiction

I for what I am, what I have, what I can't be

J for Jack in the box from days gone by

L for love that leaves you weak in the knee

M for music or marbles in a pocket full of rye

N for NHL and almost losing my best friend

O for occasionally swallowing my pride

P for procrastination and poetry to comprehend

Q for quietly sitting with you, by your side

R for the red herrings and rambling in the wild

S for shoulders to rest on and silly rhyme

T for twinkling stars I wished on as a child

U for uneasy silence, coming undone just in time

V for Violin and the fiddler's symphony

W for waking dreams of you and me

X for two bones under a skull

Y for coming years that don't gaurantee

Z for the zzz..gotta sleep, feeling dull….

And if you wondered where is K

K for keeping you forever and a day...

Monday, March 10, 2008

Not Entitled to Title.

My days are becoming something like the magpie's fondness for collecting shiny things. Being pulled back from bewildering dreams early in the morning, you finally realize that you don't want to lose yourself to sleep for reality feels better. Shards of sunlight throw patterns on the wall, on my skin, still softly dissolving music and a few moments of stillness before the pace of life quickens again.

Its been quite a while since my last post, hasn't it...and I am growing to be regularly irregular. But between the headlines and cups of coffee, between the hurried scribbles about whats keeping the world on it's toes and psyching myself for the upcoming 20th May exams, I have tried to catch my frisking thoughts but...words don't do my bidding anymore. And dear reader, try as I may, I could never give my mute expressions a voice.

And yesterday, someone turned the hourglass upside down. Going to the book fair, sifting through books I grew up reading, leafing through titles I have been wanting to read, and holding works I never knew I never knew, it felt honestly good. I felt like the six year old again who was bewitched by her first volume of Russian folktales...
Came back home with Tom Holt's Falling Sideways and a coloring book for my baby brother. Its mostly filled with pictures of grisly prehistoric monsters so I think he will be very glad when he gets it. [ by the way, Macademia what are Beyblades? I feel like a square peg in a round hole with kids these days...]

But what I wanted to talk about was going back to my flute. After nearly twelve years, I fell back in love. I thought when I played half remembered half forgotten tunes of long lost years, that it couldn't get better. But with N. Autist around to help me pick up chords[ yes, chords] on the flute and his D harp for company I am glad to say I was wrong.

Its growing dark here already...and the fireflies flash across, a piece of the night bounded by window panes. And the moon arched just like a soft smile on the face of is good.