Beyondstars

To be a light

2012-01-25T23:32:00.004-05:00

To be someone's light

When the night is long

When the woods are lovely -

but dark and deep

When a child wants to sleep

to a colorful bedtime story

Be someone's light

For to be someone's light

However small, will be a life well lived

A tiny light, even a flickr

A sunshine, even a solar torch

A warm glow on a

cold winter night

A ray of hope at the

end of a long summer day

A pat on the back

A sunshine smile

Be someone's light

- Neha (For Katherine)

Wronged

2012-01-16T22:44:00.013-05:00

"Left out" by Neha

She was wronged

Sometimes a little, sometimes a little too much

He was wronged

Sometimes a little, sometimes a little too much

She was wronged like no one was

or will ever be wronged, she thought.

He was wronged like no one was

or will ever be wronged, he thought

She never did no wrong, she thought

He never did no wrong, he thought

He wronged her, she thought

She wronged him, he thought

How can something right

come from so many wrongs?

Somewhere not too far away

God of all wrongs laughs out loud

In this song of many wrongs

I am the only right, he sings along

- Neha

A Piece of Peace

2012-01-15T13:24:00.010-05:00

A city in progress by shieldkitten

She looks at the blue of dusk

Blueness just before the sky turns

a little blue and a little black

And she waits for the night sky

The blue of lapiz lazuli with

its million golden freckles

Soft night breeze kissing her face

As the moon looks down

At her eyes looking up

To send her way

One of her most burning desires -

A piece of peace

- Neha ( For Sue )

John Anderson, My Jo

2012-01-14T18:35:00.006-05:00

"Her contemplation" by Neha

John Anderson, my jo, John,

When we were first aquent;

Your locks were like the raven,

Your bonie brow was brent;

But now your brow is beld, John,

Your locks are like the snaw;

But blessings on your frosty pow,

John Anderson, my jo.

John Anderson, my jo, John,

We clamb the hill thegither;

And mony a cantie day, John,

We’ve had wi’ ane anither:

Now we maun totter down, John,

And hand in hand we’ll go,

And sleep thegither at the foot,

John Anderson, my jo.

- Robert Burns

Dancing in the Dark

2012-01-13T18:24:00.007-05:00

" A Dance in the Dark" by Neha

Some of us dance in the dark

When the night is black

When the moon is blue

When the candle is yellow

When the firefly is green

Within these shadows

Our eyeshadows lift
We look at colors of the dark night
Sprinkled with sounds of silence
To dance our slow dance

When no one is watching
When crickets sing in a distance

When our hearts flickr like a night streetlight

The waltz of past the midnight hour

Some of us dance in the dark.

-Neha

My Papa's Waltz

2012-01-11T12:49:00.002-05:00

Girl on a Pillow by Pablo Picasso

The whiskey on your breath

Could make a small boy dizzy;

But I hung on like death:

Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans

Slid from the kitchen shelf;

My mother’s countenance

Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist

Was battered on one knuckle;

At every step you missed

My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head

With a palm caked hard by dirt,

Then waltzed me off to bed

Still clinging to your shirt.

- Theodre Roethke

If You Forget Me

2012-01-10T21:42:00.003-05:00

"Roots of Sky" by Neha

I want you to know

one thing.

You know how this is:

if I look

at the crystal moon, at the red branch

of the slow autumn at my window,

if I touch

near the fire

the impalpable ash

or the wrinkled body of the log,

everything carries me to you,

as if everything that exists,

aromas, light, metals,

were little boats

that sail

toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,

if little by little you stop loving me

I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly

you forget me

do not look for me,

for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,

the wind of banners

that passes through my life,

and you decide

to leave me at the shore

of the heart where I have roots,

remember

that on that day,

at that hour,

I shall lift my arms

and my roots will set off

to seek another land.

But

if each day,

each hour,

you feel that you are destined for me

with implacable sweetness,

if each day a flower

climbs up to your lips to seek me,

ah my love, ah my own,

in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,

my love feeds on your love, beloved,

and as long as you live it will be in your arms

without leaving mine.

- Pablo Neruda

Notes: I like this reading on YouTube

Two Cups

2012-01-09T21:04:00.010-05:00

"To be or not to be" by Neha

He gave her two cups

Cup of wisdom

Cup of happiness

She drank from happiness

Happiness flew freely

Wisdom kept distance

She drank from wisdom

Wisdom dropped in small drops

Happiness said I have found peace

Drunk with wisdom

She says, to be or not to be

Now let it be

- Neha

To Be of Use

2012-01-08T19:22:00.004-05:00

"Clipped" by Neha

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.

- Marge Piercy

Her flight

2012-01-06T20:56:00.004-05:00

Parrot of Paradise by Neha

She taught to learn

She learnt to write

She wrote to speak

She spoke to listen

She listened to see

She saw to feel

She felt to live

She lived to fly

She flew..woosh!

-Neha

Arrestati, sei bello

2012-01-05T19:10:00.010-05:00

"Curves" by Neha

If you could offer me
One hour of repose
In which my soul might find peace;
If you could reveal to the darkest recesses of my mind,
My true self and the truth of my world.
Were it to come to pass, I would say
To the fleeting moment:
Stay, for thou art beautiful!
Then might I die
And let fearsome hell engulf me

- From Mefistofele, based in Goethe's story of Faust (Loving Frank by Nancy Horan)

"Arrestati, sei bello" Stay. For you are so beautiful.

Heart of Fire

2012-01-03T22:25:00.008-05:00

"Shadow" by Neha

What is to give light must endure burning - Victor Frankl

He says he sees fire in her eyes

She says fire in her eyes is

a reflection of fire in his eyes

Two reflections

One bright yellow candle flame

Giving light with its molten heart of fire

- Neha

Pilgrim's Progress

2011-12-31T08:49:00.003-05:00

"Twirled" by Neha

..And to stir the mind

To a search after what it fain would find:

Things that seem to be hid in words obscure,

Do but the Godly mind the more allure;

To study what those sayings should contain

That speak to us in such a Cloudy strain...

- Pilgrim's Progress, John Bunyan (1678)

Ode to My Ocean Wave

2011-12-30T08:32:00.010-05:00

"Washed" by Neha

My ocean wave,

Washing over these sand castles we make

Hand in hand

Round and round

As people walk along

As sounds touch our souls

We pick a stranger's tune

My ocean wave,

On a hot summer day

I'd take a dip in you

and you would sooth the sun like a full moon

I'd see a million corals inside,

reflecting like a rainbow made of water bubbles,

a bit salty but welcome

My ocean wave,

I'd just float above you

and you would make heaviness feel like a feather

Making me feel like a puff of air -

floating there

looking at the night sky

My ocean wave,

These waters are calm

You carrying the mermaids

and treasures and the sunken ships-

All this cargo - all in your heart

My ocean wave,

my night and day

my sun and moon

my space travel and handful of earth

My ocean wave,

Your depth is not known

but like a scuba diver,

I jumped right in

And you held my hand

to show me this world below the brine -

the electric fish, the flying horses

My ocean wave,

Wash over me

My ocean wave,

You are my turquoise

You are my horizon, kissing

heaven and earth all at once

You are my dusk red

You are my silhouette

Like feet dipping in your cool water

on a hot summer day

Wash over me

My ocean wave,

breathe in and out

your high tide and low tide

My ocean wave,

Wash over me.

-Neha

Blessed Beads

2011-12-28T09:15:00.011-05:00

"Flower Girl" by Neha

She is recycling old paper

rolling it on a fine needle

turning old news into beauty

She is recycling paper beads and her life

You can still read the old lines -

that is, if you look close enough,

underneath the waterproof varnish and patterns

She is recycling her life, like paper beads

There is boundless beauty in each layer

A sum total more stunning than its parts

She calls them the blessed beads

Just like her life

blessings of many lives within this one

blessings of dreamy dreams within this one

blessings of many lines of living love

blessings of constantly changing change

These blessed beads

Just like her life

-Neha

To Birds of Traffic Light

2011-12-26T22:45:00.009-05:00

"Birds of Traffic Light" by Neha

Today, I looked up the traffic light

and realized how beautiful life is

Electric wires crossing here and there

And there you see the beautiful birds

Sitting gloriously unaware of the traffic signals below

or the mad rush to enter the shopping malls shouting SALE SALE SALE!

or the impatient lines to get out of the parking lots

There they are. Birds of traffic light.

Sitting gloriously

Looking up to the blue sky and beyond

So much beauty that it fills my heart

And I think that is life

it has so much beauty

If only we'd look up to the sky

Like birds of traffic light

-Neha

Saraktee jaye hai

2011-12-26T21:41:00.004-05:00

Saraktee jaye hai rukh se naqaab ahista ahista

nikalataa aa raha hai aaftaab ahista ahista

Jawaan hone lage jab vo to ham se kar liyaa pardaa

hayaa yakalakht aayii aur shabaab ahista ahista

Shabefurkat kaa jaagaa hoon farishton ab to sone do

kabhee fursat men kar lenaa hisaab ahista ahista

Savaalevasl par unko uduu kaa khauf hai itna

Dabey honthon se dete hain javaab ahistaa ahistaa

Hamarey aur tumharey pyar men bass fark hai itna

Idhar to jaldee jaldee hai udhar aahistaa aahistaa

Woh bedardee se sar kaatein "ameer" aur main kahoon un se

Huzoor aahistaa aahistaa, janaab ahista ahista

- Written by Ameer Menai, Sung by Jagjit Singh

Key to urdu words: sarakti - to slip, naqab - veil, ahista - slowly, aftaab - ( vision of) moon, yakalaKht - modesty/shame, shabefurkat - night of separation, savaalevasl - question-answers, uduu - villian,

Gravity

2011-12-23T09:15:00.001-05:00

"Matched" by Neha

Sometimes, we should just let gravity do its thing
Like falling rain washing over the hot asphalt road
Like fall leaves making friends with the wind
Like fallen dreams settling in your open palms
Sometimes, we should just let gravity do its thing

- Neha

The Whitsun Weddings

2011-12-17T14:05:00.000-05:00

....There we were aimed. And as we raced across
Bright knots of rail
Past standing Pullmans, walls of blackened moss
Came close, and it was nearly done, this frail
Travelling coincidence; and what it held
Stood ready to be loosed with all the power
That being changed can give. We slowed again,
And as the tightened brakes took hold, there swelled
A sense of falling, like an arrow-shower
Sent out of sight, somewhere becoming rain.

- Philip Larkin

A German Requiem

2011-12-17T13:56:00.001-05:00

It is not what they built. It is what they knocked down.
It is not the houses. It is the spaces in between the houses.
It is not the streets that exist. It is the streets that no longer exist.
It is not your memories which haunt you.
It is not what you have written down.
It is what you have forgotten, what you must forget.
What you must go on forgetting all your life.
And with any luck oblivion should discover a ritual.
You will find out that you are not alone in the enterprise.
Yesterday the very furniture seemed to reproach you.
Today you take your place in the Widow's Shuttle.

*

The bus is waiting at the southern gate
To take you to the city of your ancestors
Which stands on the hill opposite, with gleaming pediments,
As vivid as this charming square, your home.
Are you shy? You should be. It is almost like a wedding,
The way you clasp your flowers and give a little tug at your veil. Oh,
The hideous bridesmaids, it is natural that you should resent them
Just a little, on this first day.
But that will pass, and the cemetery is not far.
Here comes the driver, flicking a toothpick into the gutter,
His tongue still searching between his teeth.
See, he has not noticed you. No one has noticed you.
It will pass, young lady, it will pass.

*

How comforting it is, once or twice a year,
To get together and forget the old times.
As on those special days, ladies and gentlemen,
When the boiled shirts gather at the graveside
And a leering waistcoast approaches the rostrum.
It is like a solemn pact between the survivors.
They mayor has signed it on behalf of the freemasonry.
The priest has sealed it on behalf of all the rest.
Nothing more need be said, and it is better that way-

*

The better for the widow, that she should not live in fear of surprise,
The better for the young man, that he should move at liberty between the armchairs,
The better that these bent figures who flutter among the graves
Tending the nightlights and replacing the chrysanthemums
Are not ghosts,
That they shall go home.
The bus is waiting, and on the upper terraces
The workmen are dismantling the houses of the dead.

*

But when so many had died, so many and at such speed,
There were no cities waiting for the victims.
They unscrewed the name-plates from the shattered doorways
And carried them away with the coffins.
So the squares and parks were filled with the eloquence of young cemeteries:
The smell of fresh earth, the improvised crosses
And all the impossible directions in brass and enamel.

*

'Doctor Gliedschirm, skin specialist, surgeries 14-16 hours or by appointment.'
Professor Sarnagel was buried with four degrees, two associate memberships
And instructions to tradesmen to use the back entrance.
Your uncle's grave informed you that he lived in the third floor, left.
You were asked please to ring, and he would come down in the lift
To which one needed a key...

*

Would come down, would ever come down
With a smile like thin gruel, and never too much to say.
How he shrank through the years.
How you towered over him in the narrow cage.
How he shrinks now...

*
But come. Grief must have its term? Guilt too, then.
And it seems there is no limit to the resourcefulness of recollection.
So that a man might say and think:
When the world was at its darkest,
When the black wings passed over the rooftops,
(And who can divine His purposes?) even then
There was always, always a fire in this hearth.
You see this cupboard? A priest-hole!
And in that lumber-room whole generations have been housed and fed.
Oh, if I were to begin, if I were to begin to tell you
The half, the quarter, a mere smattering of what we went through!

*

His wife nods, and a secret smile,
Like a breeze with enough strength to carry one dry leaf
Over two pavingstones, passes from chair to chair.
Even the enquirer is charmed.
He forgets to pursue the point.
It is not what he wants to know.
It is what he wants not to know.
It is not what they say.
It is what they do not say.

James Fenton

Quilty as Charged

2011-12-13T20:18:00.008-05:00

"Quilts tell stories" by Neha

She quilted her life

One patch at a time

Her life was long, colorful, complex

And so was the quilt.

It took hundreds of patches

She did not make them perfect squares on purpose

For her life was not all squares

It was more like squares, rectangles,

triangles, circles, hexagons -

All thrown together

The edges not perfectly blending

Still dancing her crazy dance

She felt quilty

So she quilted her life

One patch at a time

Her life was long, colorful, complex

And so was the quilt.

In between these patches

Of many colors, yarns and patterns

Of matches and mismatches

Of decisions and indecisions

Was her entire life's story

And now, looking at the quilt

She felt quilty. Quilty as charged.

She both trembled and tickled

To think of what the quilt knows about her

-Neha

Tears of the Giraffe

2011-12-11T23:07:00.008-05:00

Giraffe Sketch by Johan31000

Mma Ramotswe had a gift for the American woman, a basket which on her return journey from Bulawayo she had bought, on impulse, from a woman sitting by the side of the road in Francistown. The woman was desperate, and Mma Ramotswe, who did not need a basket, had bought it to help her. It was a traditional Botswana basket, with a design worked into the weaving.

"These little marks here are tears." she said. "The giraffe gives its tears to the women and they weave them into the basket"

The American woman took the basket politely, in the proper Botswana way of receiving a gift - with both hands...."You are very kind, Mma."she said. "But why did the giraffe give its tears?"

Mma Ramotswe shrugged; she had never thought about it. "I suppose that it means that we can all give something," she said. "A giraffe has nothing else to give - only tears."

Did it mean that? she wondered. And for a moment she imagined that she saw a giraffe peering down through the trees, its strange, stilt-borne body camouflaged among the leaves; and its moist velvet cheeks and liquid eyes; and she thought of all the beauty there was in Africa, and of the laughter, and the love.

- From Tears of the Giraffe by Alexander McCall Smith

Ab ke saawan mein

2011-12-11T00:33:00.002-05:00

"Wheat Field in Rain" by Vincent Van Gogh

Ab ke saawan mein shararat ye mere saath hui,

Mera ghar chhod ke kul shahar mein barsaat hui.

Aap mat puchiye kya hum pe safar mein gujri,

The luteron ka jahan gaon, wahin raat hui.

Zindagi bhar to hui guftgu gairon se magar,

Aaj tak humse hamari naa mulakat hui.

Har galat mod pe toka hai kisi ne mujhko,

Ek aawaz teri jab se mere sath hui.

Maine socha ki mere desh ki halat kya hai,

Ek kaatil se tabhi meri mulakat hui.

- Gopaldas Neeraj

खुशबू सी आ रही है

2011-12-11T00:04:00.006-05:00

Parinda by Neha

खुशबू सी आ रही है इधर ज़ाफ़रान की,

खिडकी खुली है फिर कोई उनके मकान की.

हारे हुए परिन्दे ज़रा उड़ के देख तो,

आ जायेगी जमीन पे छत आसमान की.

बुझ जाये सरेशाम ही जैसे कोई चिराग,

कुछ यूँ है शुरुआत मेरी दास्तान की.

ज्यों लूट ले कहार ही दुल्हन की पालकी,

हालत यही है आजकल हिन्दुस्तान की.

औरों के घर की धूप उसे क्यूं पसंद हो,

बेची हो जिसने रोशनी अपने मकान की .

जुल्फों के पेंचो-ख़म में उसे मत तलाशिये,

ये शायरी जुबां है किसी बेजुबान की.

'नीरज' से बढ़कर और धनी है कौन,

उसके हृदय में पीर है सारे जहान की.

- गोपालदास "नीरज"

Where are you from?

2011-12-10T22:43:00.013-05:00

The Flowing Hair by Henri Matisse

[ The lady behind the restaurant counter asks me, without a comma:
"You look lovely this afternoon where are you from?"

As always, I fumble for a response to these four words:
Where are you from?

And then there is loveliness
Is loveliness and where I am from related?

I fumble for the first geographical wave that comes to mind.

For "Where am I from?"]

I.

I am from this ground I am standing on.
I am here now. I am from here.
I am from my blue bedroom
I am from my white kitchen
I am from the green study
I am from the lemon bathroom
I am from the white living room

I am from the side street
I am from the progressive county
I am from the green city
I am from the legendary state
I am from this greatest country on earth

But wait. This is my adopted home
I must belong where I came from.

So let's try again.

I am from that ancient country
I am from that mythical state
I am from that dusty city
I am from that revolutionary county
I am from that main road

I am from the plot where my parents house stands
I am from my parents house on the sixth floor
I am from the house number 64

I am from the brown living room
I am from the sea green bathroom
I am from the blue study
I am from my mother's grey kitchen
I am from my pink bedroom
I am from the ground I stood on
I was there then. I was from there then.

But I am standing here now.
Here in a very precise space
Square footage taken by my blue shoes
So ask me again where I am from

I am from where I am right now
Like a magical tree that
grows new roots wherever you may place it
I am from here

-Neha

Take 2: Where are you from? Read Take 1 here.

The listener

2011-12-10T13:38:00.005-05:00

Arabian Song by Paul Klee

He was a listener

Sometimes a bit adrift

Sometimes a bit restless

Sometimes a bit listless

But always listening

Above the lines

Under the lines

On the line

He had been listening all his life

So it seemed natural that he'd listen to her

And when he would speak it would be

about what he had listened

She listened too

Sometimes she was a bit adrift too

Sometimes she was a bit restless too

Sometimes she was a bit listless too

She was not a born listener

But life had taught her

That that is one of the best things to do

To listen

So here they were now:

Two listeners and silence

-Neha

Untitled (aka "Last Love)

2011-12-10T09:41:00.003-05:00

"Love on the Street" by Neha

To my daughters, I need to say:

Go with the one who loves you biblically.

The one whose love lifts its head to you despite its broken neck.

Whose body bursts sixteen arms electric to carry you, gentle, the way old grief is gentle.

Love the love that is messy in all its too much,

The body that rides best your body, whose mouth saddles the naked salt of your far gone hips, whose tongue translates the rock language of all your elegant scars.

Go with the one who cries out for his tragic sisters as he chops the winter’s wood, the one whose skin

Triggers your heart into a heaven of blood waltzes.

Go with the one who resembles most your father. Not the father you can point out on a map,

But the father who is here. Is your home. Is the key to your front door. Know that your first love will only

Be the first. And the second and third and even fourth will unprepare you for the most important:

The Blessed. The Beast. The Last love. Which is, of course, the most terrifying kind.

Because which of us wants to go with what can murder us? Can reveal to us

Our true heart’s end and its thirty years spent in poverty?

Can mimic the sound of our birdthroated mothers, replicate the warmth of our brothers' tempers? Can pull us out of ourselves until

We are no longer sisters or daughters or sword swallowers but, instead,

Women. Who give. And lead. And take and want

And want

Because there is no shame in wanting.

And you will hear yourself say: Last Love, I wish to die so I may come back to you new and never tasted by any other mouth but yours.

And I want to be the hands that pull your children out of you and tuck them deep inside myself until they are

Ready to be the children of such a royal and staggering love. Or you will say: Last Love,

I am old, and have spent myself on the courageless, have wasted too many clocks on less-deserving men, so I hurl myself

At the throne of you and lie humbly at your feet.

Last Love, let me never roll out of this heavy dream of you.

Let the day I was born mean my life will end where you end.

Let the man behind the church do what he did if it brings me to you.

Let the girls in the locker room corner me again if it brings me to you.

Let the wrong beds find me if it brings me to you.

Let this wild depression throw me beneath its hooves if it brings me to you.

Let me pronounce my hoarded joy if it brings me to you.

Let my father break me again and again if it brings me to you.

Last love, I let other men borrow your children. Forgive me.

Last love, I vowed my heart to another. Forgive me.

Last Love, I have let my blind and anxious hands wander into a room and come out empty. Forgive me.

Last Love, I have cursed the women you loved before me. Forgive me.

Last Love, I envy your mother’s body where you resided first. Forgive me.

Last Love, I am all that is left. Forgive me.

Last Love, I did not see you coming. Forgive me.

Last Love, every day without you was a life I crawled out of. Amen.

Last Love, you are my Last Love. Amen.

Last Love, I am all that is left. Amen.

I am all that is left.

Amen.

- Rachel McKibbens

Barason ke baad

2011-12-10T01:08:00.002-05:00

baraso.n ke baad dekhaa ik shaKhs dil_rubaa saa

ab zahan me.n nahii.n hai par naam thaa bhalaa saa

abaruu khi.nche khi.nche se aa.Nkhe.n jhukii jhukii sii

baate.n rukii rukii sii lahajaa thakaa thakaa saa

alfaaz the ke jugnuu aavaaz ke safar me.n

ban jaaye jangalo.n me.n jis tarah raastaa saa

Khvaabo.n me.n Khvaab us ke yaado.n me.n yaad us kii

niindo.n me.n ghul gayaa ho jaise ke rat_jagaa saa

pahale bhii log aaye kitane hii zindagii me.n

vo har tarah se lekin auro.n se thaa judaa saa

agalii muhabbato.n ne vo naa_muraadiyaa.N dii.n

taazaa rafaaqato.n se dil thaa Daraa Daraa saa

kuchh ye ke muddato.n se ham bhii nahii.n the roye

kuchh zahar me.n bujhaa thaa ahabaab kaa dilaasaa

phir yuu.N huaa ke saavan aa.Nkho.n me.n aa base the

phir yuu.N huaa ke jaise dil bhii thaa aabalaa saa

ab sach kahe.n to yaaro ham ko Khabar nahii.n thii

ban jaayegaa qayaamat ik vaaqi_aa zaraa saa

tevar the beruKhii ke andaaz dostii ke

vo ajanabii thaa lekin lagataa thaa aashnaa saa

ham dasht the ke dariyaa ham zahar the ke amrit

naahaq thaa zo.Num ham ko jab vo nahii.n thaa pyaasaa

ham ne bhii us ko dekhaa kal shaam ittefaaqan

apanaa bhii haal hai ab logo 'Faraz' kaa saa

- Ahmed Faraz

Grandma's Pickle

2011-12-10T00:36:00.006-05:00

Garden with Flowers by Gustav Klimt

Like her love

The recipe of the lemon pickle is gone

A taste remains

A little girl tip toeing to grab a big piece

of grandma's pickle,

grabbing it,

running,

hiding again to eat it in the attic

Only a memory remains

Of her love

Like lemon pickle

-Neha

Where are you from?

2011-12-07T22:16:00.018-05:00

Flowing Hair by Henri Matisse

[ The lady behind the restaurant counter asks me:

"You look lovely this afternoon where are you from?"

Yes - without a comma or a full stop she asks me:

"You look lovely this afternoon where are you from?"

As always, I fumble for a response to these four words:

Where are you from?

And then there is loveliness

Is loveliness and where I am from related?

I fumble for the first geographical wave that comes to mind.

For "Where am I from?"]

I am from this ground I am standing on.

I am here now. I am from here.

I think of the mythical tree which grows

roots from wherever it is uprooted and rerooted.

I am from this little box I call home

From the blue bedroom I dream in

to the yellow kitchen I cook in, the dining table

which lives parallel lives as a workstation and

an artist's desk overlooking the petunias smiling

in an inverted old lampshade pot.

I am from this study room with a french window

opening to a big tree - the tree whose name

I do not know, but which I love.

The one on which two baby squirrels

dance, play and nap all day long.

I am from the living room with its multi color carpet

and painting with blown up red

flowers - flowers whose name

I don't know, but which I love. The

one I look at to escape to a bed a flowers with soft

green cushion looking at the blue colored sky

II.

I am from the street I turn on to reach home.

The sidewalks. Resident's only parking spaces. The red light.

The bus stop. Wild yellow flower forcing its way through concrete.

Tall trees which have been here since

long before anyone I know has existed.

I am from the sub-division with its underground

drainage system. The rising and falling

property values. The neighborhood plan and

historic preservation. The advisory groups and

residential conservation areas.

I am from the great city. The great falls road. The farmer's

market. The boards and commissions. The council for dog license

and now waived cat license. The coyote coexistence.

The garden plot rental.

III.

I am from the great state. The queen state.

The monumental state. The free state.

The one which claims many big deeds -

It hopes you too will be pleased.

Founding father of chocolate and chewing gum of self help,

The pink punk pony, fat fish and eloquent elephant.

They were all from here.

I am from the greatest country in the world. The

one which is fastest, strongest, toughest. The

one which was destined to be the greatest. The

one which worked at it through longest works days

and shortest annual leaves. The one with the soul train,

the funk, the rap, the jazz, the country, the pop all rolled into one.

The one with silver diners and soup kitchens.

I am from the west. The wild wild west. The best of west

the land of dreams. The land of starting from scratch.

The land of I-don't care-who-your-father-was.

IV.

But wait. I was not born here

I am from across the oceans

The country I was born in

The capital I was born in

It is not even a state but a union territory

I am from that subdivision

That city

That tall building I spent a decade in

before I grew my own wings

I am from my parents house

I am from the room I painted pink

I am from the mirror who saw me dance

I am from the workstation of my first job

I am from where my parents grew

I am from where my parents spent their childhood.

Where my mother swung on a banyan tree swing

From the house from whose roof my father fell

when he was three. Unharmed from what eyes can see.

I am from everywhere I have been

From everywhere I will go

From the human ocean

The mammal ocean

The living ocean

The non living ocean

The star dust we all share

Yes. I am from the stars.

-Neha

Take 1: Where are you from? Read Take 2 here.

A Neverending Story

2011-12-07T21:30:00.009-05:00

Dance at Moma by Henri Matisse

A neverending story

Only dot dot dot . . .

A sentence left hanging mid-air

Defying the laws of gravity

A neverending story

Only dot dot dot . . .

Fill in my blanks with words

Found in an unfound dictionary

A neverending story

Only dot dot dot . . .

A chapter not written yet

You speak in prose but it is poetry

A neverending story

Only dot dot dot . . .

Like circles in white sand

Our criss crossed geometry . . .

-Neha

If the River Knows

2011-12-07T02:10:00.012-05:00

Current by Neha

Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day. - A. A. Milne, Author (1882-1956)

If the river knows, why then does she fall from great heights ?

Why does she go and hit the rock bottom?

Does she like the slippery green moss?

Does she like the rainbow created by her fall?

Or does the river just know this:

That with countless rise and falls,

she will get there some day?

That she is not in midst of a current,

she is the current herself?

- Neha

Microwaved love

2011-12-07T01:46:00.007-05:00

A microwave safe cup

met a handcrafted saucer

The cup was machine made perfect

The saucer had uneven finger marks

The cup could stand high temperatures

The saucer cracked if not handled carefully

A machine made cup and a handmade saucer

So different. So together

-Neha

The idea of a tree

2011-11-21T04:51:00.004-05:00

The roots that kiss the earth

The branches that salute the sky

The leaves that dance with the wind

The nest of a little bird

The playground of a furry squirrel

The breeze playing hide and seek

Give me just one wish please

Make me a flower or even a bee

For I love the idea of a tree

-Neha

Kharey panee ko

2011-11-19T23:15:00.010-05:00

"Make a Wish" by Neha

Samundar ke kharey panee ko meetha kardey

Ya phir meree aankhon ko pathar kardey

- As remembered

ae khuda ret ke sehra ko samandar kar de
ya chhalakti aankhon ko bhi patthar kar de

tujhko dekha naheen mehsoos kiya hai maine
aa kisi din mere ehsaas ka paikar kar de

aur kuch bhi mujhe darkaar nahin hai lekin
meri chaadar mere pairon ke baraabar kar de

- As sung by Jagjit Singh

Key to urdu words: ret ke sehra = sand castles,paikar = real/concrete ,darkaar = lack, chaadar=sheet of cloth

Tujh lab ki sifat

2011-11-19T22:47:00.010-05:00

"Spread" by Neha

Tujh lab ki sifat laal-e-badaksha soo kahoonga
Jaadu hai tere nain, ghazala soo kahoonga

Jalta hu shabon roz tere gham me ey saajan
Yaha soz tera misal-e-soja soo kahoonga

Mujh par na karo zulm tum ey lailiye khuba
Majnoon hu tere gham ko bayamban soo kahoonga

Dekha hu tujhe khwaab mein ey maya-e-khubi
Is khwaab ko ja yusuf-e-tanha soo kahoonga

Di baadshahi haq mein tujhe husn nagar ki
Ja kishwar-e-imaan-e-suleman soo kahoonga

Yak nukta tere safaye rukh par nahi beja
Is mukh ko tere safa-e-Quran soo kahoonga

- Written by Wali Dakkani, Sung by Abida Parveen

Key to urdu words: Sifat - quality, like/similar to ; lab = lips; laal = ruby; gazaalaaan = deer;so= compare to, badakhshaan= place in Afghanistan famous for its rubies

Better than the Worst

2011-11-17T12:20:00.014-05:00

"Who is this guy?" by Neha

"You are better than the worst thing you've ever done"
- Dhamma Brothers

You are the child who smiled for the very first time

You are the young boy who learnt to ride a bike

You are the teenager who first fell in love

You are the young man who was lost in her big brown eyes

You are the new born father who held her tiny fingers

You are the grown up son who told his mother she will be just fine

You are the old man who forgave those who crushed his garden

You are better than the worst thing you've ever done

Because that thing is only a part of you, not the whole of you

Because you are a human being, in many shades of grey

Because you are the same child, who smiled for the very first time

-Neha

Dedicated to every person serving in every prison of the world - both inside and outside.

Smoke from a Winter Chimney

2011-11-15T23:01:00.005-05:00

"Smoke" by stuant63

Like smoke from a winter chimney

You emerge from the heart of fire

only to vanish in the deep blue night sky

And when you are gone

Like smoke from a winter chimney

a warmth remains, followed by ashes

-Neha

Hand in Sand

2011-11-15T15:55:00.006-05:00

"Hands in the Sand" by dasnake

Hand in sand

Round and round

Waves make a gentle sound

Put this breeze as a crown

You were lost but now are found

Hand in hand in this sand

-Neha

Living Things

2011-11-12T14:40:00.004-05:00

"Chains" by Neha

Our poems

Are like the wart-hogs

In the zoo

It's hard to say

Why there should be such creatures

But once our life gets into them

As sometimes happens

Our poems

Turn into living things

And there's no arguing

With living things

They are

The way they are

Our poems

May be rough

Or delicate

Little

Or great

But always

They have inside them

A confluence of cries

And secret languages

And always

They are improvident

And free

They keep

A kind of Sabbath

They play

On sooty fire escapes

And window ledges

They wander in and out

Of jails and gardens

They sparkle

In the deep mines

They sing

In breaking waves

And rock like wooden cradles.

-Anne Porter

A noon as a noun

2011-11-12T14:12:00.003-05:00

"e-motion" by Neha

He spent a noon living like a noun

A noun living it up like a verb

For people who became a noun

Were immersed in verbs all their lives

-Neha

Unwords

2011-11-12T13:56:00.004-05:00

"Circular" by Neha

He offered me a leaf like a hand with fingers.

I offered him a hand like a leaf with teeth.

He offered me a branch like an arm.

I offered him my arm like a branch.

He tipped his trunk towards me like a shoulder.

I tipped my shoulder to him like a knotted trunk.

I could hear his sap quicken, beating like blood.

He could hear my blood slacken like rising sap.

I passed through him.

He passed through me.

I remained a solitary tree.

He a solitary man.

- Nichita Stãnescu

Little Red Kaleidoscope

2011-11-10T00:05:00.010-05:00

lucyfruit by antpix

She looks inside her little red kaleidoscope

Like she has done a thousand times

This moving circus of colors

She has seen a thousand times

But only now, like a lightening, she realizes

What makes a kaleidoscope beautiful

Its inner self brought together by mirrors

But mirrors are not beautiful by themselves

Its the dance of their reflections

and tiny glass pebbles of all size and shapes

She thinks of people as her little red kaleidoscope

Waiting for the right mirror to make them shine

She wants to go and tell them all

They are the mirrors and the glass pebbles

-Neha

Truth

2011-11-09T22:13:00.001-05:00

There are two kinds of truth: the truth that lights the way and the truth that warms the heart. The first of these is science, and the second is art. Neither is independent of the other or more important than the other. Without art science would be as useless as a pair of high forceps in the hands of a plumber. Without science art would become a crude mess of folklore and emotional quackery. The truth of art keeps science from becoming inhuman, and the truth of science keeps art from becoming ridiculous.

-Raymond Thornton Chandler, writer (1888-1959)

Picture of Gratitude

2011-11-09T21:22:00.008-05:00

"Ode" by Neha

Folded hands, handpicked flowers and a bow

Wish upon a shooting star

Sometimes a smile

Sometimes a thank you

Picture of gratitude

-Neha

Beauty Remains

2011-11-08T20:35:00.020-05:00

"Lifted" by Neha

Some days her heart would fill up

like the water in the crevice of an

old rock on a stormy day

She would hear the news,

see a stranger's face,

feel the uneven edges,

taste the loss not her own,

breathe the air waves.

War. Occupation. Corruption

Allegation. Retaliation.

Economic depression.

Human regression.

What is happening ? Why doesn't someone stop it?

Her heart fills up till it can fill no more

It is a mad mad world and one would have to

be mad to not go mad, she thinks.

She holds a tiny drop from her

eyes on the tip of her index finger

The colors of rainbow shine on the drop

which emerged from the bottom of her heart

And she knows that beauty remains.

-Neha

Copper Giraffe

2011-11-07T22:55:00.002-05:00

"G" by Neha

Tall, spotty and handsome

Head in the clouds

Feet on the ground

He does work, he has fun

He can talk, he can laugh

Meet the copper giraffe

-Neha

Who am I?

2011-11-07T22:30:00.006-05:00

"Spring" by Neha

What is to be done ? for I do not recognize myself,

I am neither Christian nor Jew, nor Gabr nor Muslim,

I am not of the east, nor of the west, nor of the land, nor of the sea.

I am not of nature’s mint, nor of the circling heavens.

I am not of earth, nor of water, nor of air, nor of fire;

I am not of the empyrean, nor of the dust, nor of existence, nor of entity,

I am not of India, nor of China, nor of Bulgaria, nor of Saqsin;

I am not of the kingdom of Iraqain, nor of the country of Khorasan,

I am not of this world, nor of the next, nor of Paradise, nor of Hell.

I am not of Adam, nor of Eve, nor of Eden and Rizwan.

My place is the placeless, my trace is the traceless,

’Tis neither body nor soul, for I belong to the soul of the Beloved,

I have put quality away, I have seen that the two worlds are one;

One I seek, One I know, One I see, One I call,

He is the first, he is the last, he is the outward, he is the inward;

I know none other except ‘Ya Hu’ and ‘Ya man Hu’.

If there be any lover in the world, —’tis I.

If there be any believer, infidel, or hermit,— ’tis I.

The wine-dregs, the cup-bearer, the minstrel, the harp, and the music,

The beloved, the candle, the drink and the joy of the drunken,—’tis I.

The two-and-seventy creeds and sects in the world

Do not really exist: I swear by God that every creed and sect—’tis I.

Earth and air and water and fire, knowest thou what they are?

Earth and air and water and fire, nay, body and soul too—’tis I.

Truth and Falsehood, good and evil, ease and difficulty from first to last,

Knowledge and learning and asceticism and piety and faith—’tis I.

The fire of Hell, be assured, with its flaming limbs,

Yes, and Paradise and Eden and the Houris—’tis I.

This earth and heaven with all that they hold,

Angels, Peris, Genies and Mankind—’tis I.

-Rumi

Time Change

2011-11-06T10:03:00.005-05:00

Unfolds by origamidon

Did we loose time

Or did we just gain time

His head is spinning

He checks wall clock,wrist watch,

guest room clock, kitchen watch,

World clock in phone watch

Not sure about time, but he is lost

-Neha

Lonely Sock

2011-11-04T06:42:00.004-04:00

Sock is lonely

It should have been sockS

but his soulmate got separated in the washer

Now the sock is lonely. It really socks.

Can someone please invent a sock pair up machine

to match them up within the washer?

-Neha

Plastic Flowers

2011-10-29T23:03:00.014-04:00

"Shadows" by Neha

To some you are not real

Without a fragrance

Without the frailties

They fail to see a meaning in you ...

But you are real to her

If only just different

With your plastic soul

You make her days bright

Winter frost doesn't freeze you

Warm reflections of your pinkness glow

Nothing is permanent

But then, you are more permanent

You don't fall in fall

You are a bright spot on a cloudy night

So what if you are a plastic flower

[Don't tell them...but here's our secret]

She loves you for your plasticity

-Neha

Last words of a rubber ball thrown on the sea

2011-10-24T00:24:00.009-04:00

I never thought I'd feel so free.

Surrounded by green ocean water.

Far away from any sign of round people who made me,

Or little round people who played with me.

For who thought that I, a rubber ball, would have feelings?

Even I, a rubber ball, never thought that I'd have feelings!

Yet, here I am - a rubber ball thrown on the sea, with feelings.

Drifted.

I feel drifted. Like someone took the solid ground from right under my feet.

I look up to the open blue sky, soft mist on my face and I think of my mother.

She was not a rubber ball like me. She was a stainless steel machine.

Yes, I was born in a factory with 20,000 other bouncy rubber balls - my brothers and sisters-

You see, we never played together - each one of us gone to the house of little round people.

Oh!I love little round people. Especially the little round one they called chubby cheeks.

I was his most favorite possession on earth. Even more favorite than the talking cat.

He drew a smily on my face.

And here I am, a rubber ball thrown on the sea.

What will I become - a coral reef? a fossil of human civilization?

A stranger in the land of brine at bottom of the ocean?

Surrounded by electric fish, sharks, whales

The little fellow, the predator, the creator

And in the middle of them all:

I, a rubber ball thrown on the sea. Still smiling.

-Neha

Lunchbox of my dreams

2011-10-22T21:07:00.009-04:00

"Flight" by Neha

Lunchbox of my dreams,

Dreams of my childhood,

Childhood of bread and butter,

Butter cream biscuits and noodles,

Noodles with oodles of playful fork,

Fork with five stainless hands,

Five hands joining to play ringa ringa roses,

Roses of very first love,

Love of a mother rushing to work,

Work of everyday dreams,

Dreams of my childhood,

Childhood of lunchbox,

Lunchbox of my dreams.

-Neha

Wasted War

2011-10-22T20:19:00.005-04:00

You fought ignorance with hatred

Your hatred got hatred

Hatred loved ignorance

You spread ignorance with hatred

And now you sit wondering what went wrong

While god of ignorance smiles.

-Neha

Hero

2011-10-15T21:16:00.005-04:00

[I thought a hero was not supposed to show his pain. Ever.
I was wrong. All this time]

You don't become a hero by hiding your pain,

You become a hero by showing your bruises.

-Neha

If change were a piece of art

2011-10-14T21:37:00.019-04:00

"In my element" by Neha

If change were a piece of art, I will make a start..

Knowing that you can get there part by part

Knowing that it gets messy before it gets pretty

Knowing that the lines may not be perfect

Maybe it will be a blank canvas made by someone's rough hands..

Waiting for me to splash my colors

Waiting for me to give it a form

Waiting for me to change its destiny and my own, hand in hand

Maybe it will be a discarded piece of art found under the rubble at a goodwill store..

Waiting for me to pick it up despite the scratches

Waiting for me to not give up on it

Waiting for me to tell it I see beauty, not junk

Maybe it will change "the" world or "someone's"world

I will paint the elephant in the room pink

I will give wings to the frog of the well

I will make the sun shine in the darkest corners

If change were a piece of art, I will take my brush and make a start..

Knowing that inch by inch a painting is completed
Knowing that as a child, I had the courage to sketch mighty castles
Knowing that tiny humming bird migrates miles starting with a flap

So start even if you don't see the end of the road

For you can imagine the end of the road

For what you can imagine, you can create

For you have to start somewhere someday

So start, let's make change an art..

What better day than today?

What better place than here and now?

What better person that the one you see in the mirror?

-Neha

This is for Linda who knows the beauty of change

Pehla Kavi

2011-10-13T12:54:00.004-04:00

Viyogi hoga pehla kavi,
Aah se upja hoga gaan,
Nikal kar nayanon se chupchap,
Bahi hogi kavita anjaan.

- Sumitra Nandan Pant

Dono ore prem palta hai,
Priye, patang to jalta hi hai
Dipak bhee jalta hai.

-Maithli Sharan Gupt

Kewal badal nahin aankh ko,
Thodi si dopahar bhi lena
Jeetey jeete marte hain sab,
Tum marte marte jee lena

Jab thakan sindhu ho jai,
Aur chetna lagey doobne
Baith hridaya ke madiralai mein,
Tab -Tab dard sura pi lena.

-RamSanehi Lal Sharma 'Yayawar'

Courtesy: Manish Chauhan

Song for Maggie

2011-09-27T21:54:00.021-04:00

"Joy of Life" by Pablo Picasso (1946)

I never met you.

I only heard about you the day you died.

He said he got a call late at night-

Maggie is no more.

He switched his phone off

It was now silent

Just like you.

Two days later, he drove everyone

to your final resting place

He said it was the same van in which

you all went on a picnic not so long ago

The same van in which you laughed.

Now he is driving me to the airport

I look at the road ahead

As his mind flashes backward

They took you to the hospital

five days before I came

They said it will be simple.

But it wasn't

You packed your bags thrice

Third time you went

straight to the door to heaven, if there is one.

It must be heaven there

Where your four month baby waits for you

He said maybe he too will see you there one day

That's what they told him

He wasn't sure though

He said he wanted to shout loud and ask:

Why hasn't anyone who has visited that

sought after side ever come back to tell?

The truck ahead blows dark smoke in our faces.

As if to tell a message in a language we don't understand

It has been four days since you have gone

Dim lights flickr on the endless roadside

He takes a deep breath and says

This is life. This roadside

Bright electric light with total darkness at end

Everyone is sad

But he wants to celebrate your life

His voice breaks

He wants to drink and dance and smile.

I never met you Maggie.

But I celebrate your life

and the life you carried inside

And I imagine you sitting behind the welcome desk

A wildflower in your hair

Stars shining in your big black eyes

Eyes full of life like the blue nile

And I imagine that's what you have become

A wildflower, a star, the sparkling

water of nile on a moonlit night

Smiling from the cloud number nine

I never met you Maggie. But I miss you still.

And I celebrate your life

With your song born on

a moonlit night on a long drive

Like the beginning of a fairy tale

once upon a time

-Neha

This song is for Maggie, who I never met and Saison, who I will not forget.

Take your leave

2011-09-27T16:16:00.015-04:00

"Renew" by Neha

And again, the heart lives through the eyes

looking through the soul of a glass door

Green leaves are leaving. Again

Reddish yellow is peeping. Again.

They slowly dance in the cooling sun. Again.

Brown earth is calling. Again.

To be born. Again and Again.

-Neha

Humko dushman ki nigahon

2011-09-26T16:36:00.003-04:00

Humko dushman kee nigahon se na dekha keeje
Pyaar hi pyaar hain hum humpe bharosa keeje

Chand yaadon ke siwa haath na kuch aayega
Is tarah umr-e-gureza ka na peecha keeje

Roshni auron ke aangan mein gawara na sahee
Kam se kam apne ghar mein to ujaala keeje

Kya khabr kab wo chale aayenge milne ke liye
Roz palkon pe nayee shamme jalaya keeje

- Sung by Chitra Singh

Turquoise

2011-09-25T09:39:00.003-04:00

A little blue, a little green

Like the end of daylight

Like the ocean meeting the sky

She reflects on turquoise

-Neha

A Thermodynamic Affair

2011-09-24T07:56:00.013-04:00

burned water by /pitzyper!

Fire meets water

Fire cools down

Water heats up

Fire cools down

But it has known only burning

Where is the flame?

Water heats up

But it has always been a liquid

How does one become a vapor?

-Neha

To Black Butterflies

2011-09-23T06:35:00.007-04:00

They think you are not colorful

like all the other butterflies,

For you are just a black butterfly.

Don't they know that black

absorbs all colors in its heart?

You accept all of them equally

And that makes you more colorful

than any other butterfly

The black butterfly.

-Neha

This is dedicated to the memory of Ingrid Jonker

The lucky ones

2011-09-22T17:59:00.002-04:00

"We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here."

– Richard Dawkins

Summer Farewell

2011-09-22T15:39:00.009-04:00

"A glimpse"by Neha

You take so long to come

Yet so fast to go

You've been good

But now you've gone.Again.

- Neha

Wants

2011-09-21T19:46:00.005-04:00

Black wants to be brown

Brown wants to be white

White wants to be a little tan

What she doesn't have is exactly what she wants

Why is this the women song?

-Neha

My name is Yellow. I am innocent

2011-09-21T19:28:00.010-04:00

I am not on anyone's side

I am just a color

I am like the air which blows for all,

like the sun which rises for everybody,

like the birds which fly over the house of rich and the poor

My name is Yellow. I am innocent.

I am not corrupt

I am not an oppressor

I am not violence

I am not the dove of peace

I am not the status quo

I am not sweeping change either

I am not the power

I am not the opposition

My name is Yellow. I am innocent.

I am whatever you want me to be

I can be all of these or nothing at all

because whatever you want me to be

is what you yourself are.

My name is Yellow. I am innocent.

-Neha

Dedicated to all the innocent colors falsely implicated by wise and otherwise!

Rain

2011-09-21T18:21:00.001-04:00

It is raining outside

But the sun is shining

Inside his heart

-Neha

Eyes of a tourist

2011-09-20T13:48:00.004-04:00

Make me the eyes of a tourist
Looking at everything with wide eyes
Filled with wonder and curiosity
Filled with hope of possibility
Make me the eyes of a tourist

-Neha

Healing

2011-09-06T22:35:00.003-04:00

You are your own patient

You are your own doctor

-Neha

Stars from the other side

2011-08-24T15:49:00.003-04:00

I saw stars from the other side

They were just the same

I met people from the other side

They were like stars

-Neha

Punctuation. So important.

2011-08-16T18:30:00.013-04:00

Punctuation. So important.

For you could be a comma - keeping it all separated

or a full stop - the end is near here

or a bracket - enclosed within your lines

or maybe dot dot dot - the story continues...

Punctuation. So important.

For you could be a therefore - the mark of a thinking woman

or a semi-colon - dangerously addictive vide Virginia Woolf

or an apostrophe - the mark of a possessive case

or maybe an interrobang - unison of question and exclamation

Punctuation. So important.

or is it so important?

or would you rather be?

Unpunctuated. Just as is

-Neha

In Im Perfection

2011-07-29T23:54:00.002-04:00

"The public works" by Neha

My country

Like life

So imperfect

So beautiful

Perfect in imperfection

Imperfect in perfection

-Neha

An observation

2011-07-29T23:46:00.003-04:00

"Text" by Neha

If you are not an observation

You are a reaction

What would you be ?

-Neha

Baat Shanasai ki

2011-07-29T08:03:00.004-04:00

" A wish" by Neha

kubaku phail gayee baat shanasai ki
us ne khushboo ki tarah meri pazirai ki

kaise kah dun k mujhe chor diya hai us ne
bat to sach hai magar bat hai ruswai ki

wo kahin bhi gaya lauta to mere paas aaya
bas yahi baat hai achee merey harjai ki

tera pahlu tere dil ki tarah abad rahe
tujh pe guzre na qayamat shab-e-tanhai ki

us ne jaltee hui peshani pe jo hath rakha
rooh tak a gai tasir masihai ki

- Parveen Shakir

Listen to this ghazal on YouTube by Abida Parveen and Mehdi Hassan

Nostalgic

2011-07-26T22:56:00.007-04:00

You make me nostalgic
for a place I've never known

To miss someone
you have never met

To hear the tune of a song
you have never heard

You make me nostalgic
as the world (re)turning upside down.

- Neha

Thanks Amanda Jiron-Murphy for the nostalgia

Apni Parwaaz

2011-07-20T23:16:00.000-04:00

Apni Parwaaz-e-Takhayyull Hain Zamane Se Juda
Jiss Jagah Koyi Na Pahuncha Wahaan Tak Pahunche
Main Samajhta Huun Harr Dil Mein Khuda Rehta Hain
Mera Paigam Mohabbat Hain Jaahan Tak Pahunche

- Ahsan Sherazi

Ab ke hum

2011-07-20T23:14:00.000-04:00

ab ke hum bichDe to shaayad kabhi khwaaboN meiN mile
jis tarah sookhe huye phool kitaaboN meiN mile

dhoonD uJde huye logon meiN wafa ke moti
ye khazane tuJhe mumkin hai kharaboN meiN mile

tu khuda hai na mera ishq faristoN jaisa
dono insaaN haiN to inum itne hijaaboN mein mile

gham-e-duniya bhi gham-e-yaar meiN shaamil kar lo
nasha behta hai sharaaboN meiN to sharaboN meiN mile

ab laboN meiN hooN na tu hai na wo maaji hai faraaq
jaise do saaye tamaana ke saraabOn meiN mile

Writer: Ahmed Faraz
Singer: Mehdi Hassan

Life and Airline booking

2011-07-19T23:12:00.012-04:00

The Lipstick Flight by Pleasant Plaines Workshop

It is more than the distance
between departure and arrival

It is more than the speed which says
that you have finally arrived

Do you want a non-stop journey
or the most adventurous one?

Do you want the shortest time
or the lowest price?

Will economy class do or will
you keep dreaming of an upgrade?

Will you check and recheck all reviews
or make that reservation on pure instinct?

Will you need an agent in person or
will an online booking do?

Will you negotiate your way through a dozen
pricelines or will you pay whatever you can?

Will you knowingly choose to arrive after the sun
goes down or run to catch sunshine?

Will you take the cheapest fare if you'd
know the airline name only once you book?
(Somewhat like a blind date...)

Will you be fine if no one is waiting at
the airport with a sign that has your name?

Life is an airline booking
Surprise yourself !

-Neha

Le chala jaan meri

2011-07-18T15:03:00.004-04:00

le chala jaan meri rooth ke jana tera
aise aanay se to behtar tha na aana tera

tu jo ay zulf pareshaan raha karti hai
kis ke ujre howay dil mein hai thikana tera

aarzu he na rahi subh e watan ki mujh ko
shaam e ghurbat hai ajab waqt sunhana ter

apni aankhon mein abhi kond gayi bijli si
hum na samjhe ke yeh aana hai ke jaana tera

tu khuda to nahi, ae naaseh naadaan mera
kya khata ki jo kaha maine na maana tera

le chala jaan meri rooth ke jana tera
aise aanay se to behtar tha na aana tera

-Daag Dehlvi

Note:

1) See performance by Abida Parveen here

2) For complete translation see Ek Fankar's Blog

Weighing Machine

2011-07-17T02:28:00.024-04:00

Dear Weighing Machine,

What you don't know about me

is that even though you say it has been

over twenty pounds since ten years back,

I actually feel very light. L-i-g-h-t-n-e-s-s.

L-i-g-h-t-n-e-s-s. Not the one that you can weigh really.

The one which just has no weight.

For you don't weigh a heavy heart - the one

I carried for many years but which magically

became light as a feather because I no

longer care for the weight and the heaviness

I carried - but accept it with open arms.

I weigh in your eyes weighing machine :

NO I am not telling you how much - for you

already know that in your own binary way-

but I am telling you that

in my heart and soul I have become after all

these years weightless like a feather-

a feather which flies higher and higher with

winds both cold and hot.

What you don't know weighing machine is

that there isn't just the cumulative weight-

the body mass index

the body fat percentage

the muscles, the clothes,

the hairband, the earrings

the bangles, the ring with big stone

this silver watch....

There is the spirit

How do you weigh the spirit?

-Neha

Dedicated to Kelly Zen-Yie Tsai for the light-ness!

Journey of the Magi

2011-07-16T13:38:00.002-04:00

Journey by Neha

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times when we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities dirty and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wineskins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

- T S Eliot

The Ages

2011-07-16T12:45:00.002-04:00

"Fallen" by Neha

WHEN, to the common rest that crowns our days,
Called in the noon of life, the good man goes,
Or full of years, and ripe in wisdom, lays
His silver temples in their last repose;
When, o’er the buds of youth, the death-wind blows,
And blights the fairest; when our bitterest tears
Stream, as the eyes of those that love us close,
We think on what they were, with many fears
Lest Goodness die with them, and leave the coming years.

- William Cullen Bryant (1794–1878)

Certain

2011-07-16T12:35:00.001-04:00

She didn't prepare for the only thing certain in life, death.

-Neha

Crossing Over

2011-07-14T22:41:00.001-04:00

You can't make a plant grow by pulling at it
You can't make water boil by putting a burning matchstick in it
You can't climb a mountain by looking at it
The only way through is the way through
You can't cross over before building a bridge

- Neha

Watering the grass

2011-07-07T14:16:00.004-04:00

She said "If the grass is greener on

the other side, you need to water yours"

I said "Or maybe water less-

depending on the state of the grass.

Too much water too often can do

much damage too - 'tis the lesson

from gardening"

-Neha

Unsettled Revelry

2011-07-06T20:19:00.012-04:00

"Hay" by Neha

Like a tiny speck of dust in moving water -

an atom forever and ever in motion

Drifted by this gush, that breath.

Not settling at the bottom of a glass.

But dancing its delirious dance

Agitated again and again

Not a balanced equilibrium

No perfect bell shaped curve

But Heisenberg's uncertainty principle

An unbalanced equilibrium

Not a poorna viram (a full stop)

No hence proved

But unfathomable question

An ardha viram (comma)

A blessed unrest in

reverence of unsettled revelry

-Neha

Trivia:

1) Read about Heisenberg's uncertainty principle here

2) In Devnagari script a poorna viram (literally meaning eternal rest) is full stop ( represented by a verticle line । ) and ardha viram (literally meaning half rest) is a comma.

A Visiting Pass

2011-07-06T20:11:00.004-04:00

"Station" by Neha

"When will we come here?", she says.

He says ,"we are here"

She says,"but we are only passing through,

when will we visit here?"

He says ,"you can't visit without passing through.

so we have visited here.

We have a visiting pass."

-Neha

Knots

2011-07-06T19:59:00.005-04:00

Circles by Neha

All in all
Each man in all men
All men in each man

All being in each being
Each being in all being

All in each
Each in all

All distinctions are mind, by mind, in mind, of mind
No distinctions no mind to distinguish

-From Knots by R.D.Laing

Song with no title Acoustic # 6

2011-07-05T16:54:00.006-04:00

"Cinderella Dreams" by Neha

I don't have the words to explain

the look in your eyes

I don't have the words to explain

how you move

I don't have the words to explain

the touch of everything you touch

I don't have the words to explain

the hum of your silence

I don't have the words to sense the senses

with some sense and some sensibility

when I am around you.

So I wrote this song.

But I don't have the words.

So this song is called

Song with no title Acoustic #6

-Neha

Dedicated to the guitar player who played Song with no title Acoustic #6

If you lived here you'd be home now

2011-07-05T16:06:00.026-04:00

"Wheatpasting the Moon" by Neha

If you lived here you'd be home now -
Says the highway sign
I know - if I lived here I'd be home now

But I don't live here. I could.
But I don't want to live here.
Not now at least.
My home is far
My journey long
I'm not home now but consider
this road as much my companion
as the other travelers - Some my own
Some unknown.

If I lived here I'd be home now.
But I don't.
Home is far
This road is here
And I roll on like the treads of tire.
Tired.Tried.Again and Again.

..Da capo sine fine

And it is fine.

- Neha

Note: Da capo sine fine is a term in music meaning "repeat from the beginning to end". Learn more here.

Distance of Sound

2011-06-30T17:15:00.017-04:00

Must have by Neha

I travelled a distance to meet sound

The journey went inside me

The journey went outside me

Like two atoms of hydrogen and

one of oxygen coming together to

form water - The H The 2 The O as H2O

One of me merged with an ocean of sounds.

I became the thumping of a drill making

out with brown earth on a sunny Saturday afternoon

I became the deep breath

pulling me to the present moment. Now.

I became the boombox playing a distant song.

The distant song I went and found as I

walked closer and closer and closer.

So close that I felt it in my pulse.

I became the tapping sandals of the girl

in yellow shirt dancing as if boombox got

electricity right out of her.

I became bus tires screeching on dry grey road.

The car engine roaring. The van horn begging

for attention. The volunteer fire truck alarm says

someone needs me. Needs me NOW. A call for help.

I became the laughter of the

little girl in pink dress

swirling around the tree. This is fun.

This is free when nothing is.

I became the voice of men

passing time. Or maybe time was passing them.

The man in oversize safari walking like

a high tide wave. Half drunk half alert.

He says : Hey Baby!

The drill is making out with the brown earth far away.

I enter the gates of historic house of man who broke

the chains - the ones inside mind and out.

I became the sound of wind brushing against my face.

The house sits on a hill watching the neighborhood

like a guardian deity of a kind. I am ready for a hike.

I became the footsteps climbing

the stairs. The breath just a little short of itself.

I became the park service guide's baritone voice.

I became the phone beeping in between. The door

opening. The air conditioner buzzing in the room

where he once sat - the man who broke the chains.

I stepped out to the backyard.

I became the sound of a rite of passage going on

under the shade of crisp green trees.

I became the vocal cords of a Jennifer Hudson

waiting to be found. The African drums beating.

The woman in white reciting a poem.

I became her poem. She called me 'at the crossroads'.

I head back.

I became the birds chirping, crickets electrifying

the afternoon. The motorbike breezing through the

snailing traffic. I became the drill making out

with brown earth. No. This is not the climax yet.

I walk on.

I became the silence of the glass

front of worn down closed store.

The sticker on my face says :

It must have been here all along.

It must have been. I just heard.

Many voices.

Many beats.

One city.

Welcome to Anacostia.

- Neha

Dedicated to KCDC and Robert Peterson's sound recording immersion!

Cafe Timetravel

2011-06-30T15:55:00.012-04:00

Which road to which Rome ? by Neha

Old world cafe in a new world strip mall becomes a coffee grain brewing through the filter paper, living a life between that side and this other world, like the end of morning

frozen in time between sleep and half consciousness - stirred by the

intoxicating smell of coffee they meet to speak of soccer scores,revolutions,

politics,pirates - all in the old world cafe in the new world strip mall

where they seek the flavor they tasted day after day

for many many years but the one they left behind and now they

don't want to let go of how it felt when they sipped the hot fuming coffee

from tiny white ceramic cups with golden engraving while

making slurping sounds - they challenged each other who could make

a louder sound and the crowd joined in the revelry - but that

was old world cafe in the older old world not the old world cafe

in a new world strip mall where engines roar on the highway and pedestrians

are few and far- but they had to leave for the new world where they walk like a plant uprooted from the ground it belongs- here but not quite-

morning frozen in time between sleep and half consciousness

the sun shines outside the old world cafe in the new world strip mall

while the sunsets on the new old world cafe

-Neha

Ballad of a wilful woman

2011-06-24T23:57:00.001-04:00

So she follows the cruel journey
That ends not anywhere,
And dreams, as she stirs the mixing-pot,
She is brewing hope from despair.

- D H Lawrence , From "Look! We have come through!"

Apni Dhun Mein Rehta Hoon

2011-06-20T23:54:00.002-04:00

Apni dhun mein rehta hoon
Main bhi tere jaisa hoon

O picchli rut kay saathi
Abke Baras main tanha hoon

Teri gali mein sara din
Dukh kay kankar chunta hoon

Mera diya jalaye kaun
Main tera khali kamra hoon

Apni leher hai apna rog
Dariya hoon aur pyasaa hoon

Aati rut mujhe royegi
Jaati rut ka jhonka hoon

Apni dhun mein rehta hoon
Main bhi tere jaisa hoon

- Written by Nasir Kazmi , Sung by Ghulam Ali

Tyranny of Things

2011-06-16T11:14:00.008-04:00

We grow tyrannical fighting tyranny.

--E.B. White, Writer (1899-1985)

We judge because they judge us

We fight because they fight us

We answer their fury with our fury

We become insensitive with our senses

We want to speak so much we forget to listen

We worship the symbols not the meaning

We divide me, you, us, them, they, theirs

We are perfect they are not

We are born of angels they of devils

We use peace forces

We grow tyrannical fighting tyranny.

Such is the tyranny of things

-Neha

Mary Morison

2011-06-12T22:49:00.000-04:00

O Mary, at thy window be,

It is the wish'd, the trysted hour!

Those smiles and glances let me see,

That make the miser's treasure poor:

How blythely was I bide the stour,

A weary slave frae sun to sun,

Could I the rich reward secure,

The lovely Mary Morison.

Yestreen, when to the trembling string

The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',

To thee my fancy took its wing,

I sat, but neither heard nor saw:

Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,

And yon the toast of a' the town,

I sigh'd, and said among them a',

"Ye are na Mary Morison."

Oh, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,

Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?

Or canst thou break that heart of his,

Whase only faut is loving thee?

If love for love thou wilt na gie,

At least be pity to me shown;

A thought ungentle canna be

The thought o' Mary Morison.

- Robert Burns

Hotel by a Railroad

2011-06-12T20:14:00.012-04:00

Hotel by a Railroad by Edward Hopper (1952)

Listen to me, I ..

Wait with you. Wait for you.

Wait for the early morning train tomorrow .

To visit the home of your childhood.

It has been thirty years

since you went back.

I hear the sound of engine.

This hasn't changed in all these years.

Years since you made castles in sand.

I see you glance outside the hotel

window - looking at the porter.

Are you thinking how you have been

a porter too? In a way. Carrying the

burden. A new one every single day.

I see the pigeons making the sounds

pigeons make. I wonder.

Do pigeons think of porters too?

I wait with you.

Not to settle the past

but to accept it.

I wait for you. To feel my pink satin gown.

This new rose perfume I got for you.

The housemaid has changed the bedsheets

with fresh tea spots and old stains.

I wait for you to change the bedsheets too.

As we take the early morning train tomorrow.

-Neha

The Old Wisdom

2011-06-12T15:36:00.000-04:00

When the night wind makes the pine trees creak

And the pale clouds glide across the dark sky,

Go out, my child, go out and seek

Your soul: the Eternal I.

For all the grasses rustling at your feet

And every flaming star that glitters high

Above you, close up and meet

In you: the Eternal I.

Yes, my child, go out into the world; walk slow

And silent, comprehending all, and by and by

Your soul, the Universe, will know

Itself: the Eternal I.

-Jane Goodall

You, Your Shadow and Your Reflection

2011-06-04T23:36:00.007-04:00

"Reel" by Neha

I see the three of you together
You, your shadow and your reflection
None aware of the other
Yet so visible from where I look at you.

You, your shadow and your reflection
You real.
Your shadow darkness
Your reflection light

For me. All of you.
You, your shadow and your reflection.

-Neha