Tuesday, October 30, 2012

(W)here

The Gold of the Azure by Joan Miró
Happy that she's almost there
Sad that she's almost there

For there means not here
As this here unfolds there somewhere

- Neha

Painting On A Stormy Evening

Bloombars 
When not staring out the window, we painted.
We painted, in half excitement and half fear
Half fear fully subsided ( painting does that to the nerves)
Half excitement rose to fill the cup of our evening
Colors of paint turned the chairs to pink, blue and purple
As the grey clouds of our hearts lifted

- Neha

Monday, October 29, 2012

A Different Kind of Rain

Chaorder by Neha

This rain
Its not that different
The pitter patter is the same

But this rain is not the same
The pitter patter is like a grandfather's clock
tick tock tick tock - someone is coming
The air is full of anxiety
Shallow breaths of what will we all become

This rain
Its different
Gas station is out of gas already
Whatmart is out of toilet paper
Water aisle is empty
Batteries are long gone too
(sales have hit a five year daily high,
the manager is smiling amidst the chaos,
his weekly forecast is that god is on his side)

Children are happy to have the day off at school
(they plan to play hide and seek)
Their mother is scared out of her wits
(she feels powerless without utility power)
The husband is following live weather reports on his computer
(he says they say the full moon will make it worse, and mid-sentence steals a moment to check the football scores from yesterday)
The neighbor in grey track pants is happy his tortuous office will remain closed
(he has lined up his favorite movies for reruns)
The 80 year old Mrs. Smith has got all her medicines
(she is not worried or happy. She has seen many storms.
This too shall pass, she knows )

The rain has stopped now
He is stretched out smartly with a phone in hand
Was that all?
Or is this the lull before the storm?

- Neha

The Storm

The Manneporte by Claude Monet 
1

Against the stone breakwater,
Only an ominous lapping,
While the wind whines overhead,
Coming down from the mountain,
Whistling between the arbors, the winding terraces;
A thin whine of wires, a rattling and flapping of leaves,
And the small street-lamp swinging and slamming against
the lamp pole.

Where have the people gone?
There is one light on the mountain.

2

Along the sea-wall, a steady sloshing of the swell,
The waves not yet high, but even,
Coming closer and closer upon each other;
A fine fume of rain driving in from the sea,
Riddling the sand, like a wide spray of buckshot,
The wind from the sea and the wind from the mountain contending,
Flicking the foam from the whitecaps straight upward into the darkness.

A time to go home!--
And a child's dirty shift billows upward out of an alley,
A cat runs from the wind as we do,
Between the whitening trees, up Santa Lucia,
Where the heavy door unlocks,
And our breath comes more easy,--
Then a crack of thunder, and the black rain runs over us, over
The flat-roofed houses, coming down in gusts, beating
The walls, the slatted windows, driving
The last watcher indoors, moving the cardplayers closer
To their cards, their anisette.

3

We creep to our bed, and its straw mattress.
We wait; we listen.
The storm lulls off, then redoubles,
Bending the trees half-way down to the ground,
Shaking loose the last wizened oranges in the orchard,
Flattening the limber carnations.

A spider eases himself down from a swaying light-bulb,
Running over the coverlet, down under the iron bedstead.
The bulb goes on and off, weakly.
Water roars into the cistern.

We lie closer on the gritty pillow,
Breathing heavily, hoping--
For the great last leap of the wave over the breakwater,
The flat boom on the beach of the towering sea-swell,
The sudden shudder as the jutting sea-cliff collapses,
And the hurricane drives the dead straw into the living pine-tree.

- Theodore Roethke

Storm In The Garden

The Large Plane Trees by Vincent Van Gogh
The good thing is that she is surrounded by trees
Shade. Beauty. Jumping Squirrels. Chirping birds.
A room with a view just as she likes.

A storm is coming.

The bad thing is that she is surrounded by trees.
Glass greenhouse. Droopy branches. Falling leaves.
Blue sky turning gray with hourly age (a mad rage)

A storm is coming.
Reflection. Attachment. Fury. Silence.
Circular circle of life makes a turn.
(as it always does)

- Neha

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Mad Girl’s Love Song

Seated Odalisque by Henri Matisse 

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

- Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Half A Dream

Half figure of a young woman by Gustave Klimt 
You gave me your words 
Written in blue ink on the palm of your white hands 
A morning gift between half sleeping and half waking 

You gave me your words
I gave you one half of a broken green earring as a piece of me
You said it is beautiful despite being broken, 

maybe even because of it 

Just like half of you and half of me 
Like the taste of our mouths
Full of half longing and half belonging

Half a dream of you and me 

 - Neha

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Rain of Leaves

Fallen again by Neha

This rain of leaves
Green. Brown. Yellow
Sway. Gravity. Pull. Fall
S e p a r  a  t    e     d. United. Again and again
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Rebirth. This life
This rain of leaves

- Neha

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Love is more thicker than forget

The River Epte by Claude Monet
love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail

it is most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea

love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive

it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky

- e. e. cummings

Boundless

Letter from Henri Matisse to Andre Rouveyre
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.

- Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Tuesday, October 09, 2012

Easily amazing

L’Odalisque, Harmonie Blueue by Henri Matisse 
"If she's amazing, she won't be easy. If she's easy, she won't be amazing. If she's worth it, you won't give up. If you give up, you're not worthy. .. Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for."  - Bob Marley

But Bob, she could be easily amazing
or amazingly easy
if only you don't create a web amazingly difficult
or difficultly amazing
It really is that easy
Truth is, nobody is going to hurt you
Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional

- Neha

Thursday, October 04, 2012

Dangerous Things

The Red Sun by Joan Miro

Said Myrtias (a Syrian student
in Alexandria; in the reign of
Augustus Constans and Augustus Constantius;
in part a pagan, and in part a christian);
"Fortified by theory and study,
I shall not fear my passions like a coward.
I shall give my body to sensual delights,
to enjoyments dreamt-of,
to the most daring amorous desires,
to the lustful impulses of my blood, without
any fear, for whenever I want --
and I shall have the will, fortified
as I shall be by theory and study --
at moments of crisis I shall find again
my spirit, as before, ascetic."

- C.P.Cavafy