mandira sharma edited - i don't get it but it's a good poem - maybe about mother or place or city or nation or lover?

When the days are about her
'She' is in all her form,
When the rose is her
And so is the thorn.

I lie there under her Blue,
I am surrounded with freedom,
Now true, I am now grounded,
I know my elements,
I don't belong to the fragile supplements,
I am part of her, I was 'Born'.

With her it's easy,
To think of the 'Infinite',
Rhyme becomes breezy,
Close my eyes, I just might.

But it's never a complete darkness with the sun,
And it's never a complete daylight when it's all done.

I toss between 'Life' and 'Me',
They are not the same, I am sure,
'She' can be with me and I with she,
But life knows how to lure.
It drags me to the edge
And then releases !
But she is the pitching wedge,
A lofting stroke, yes, please.
The game begins again and I run,
Wire, maze, player, all that's done.
But will I return, oh yes, I will !
Will I return, oh yes, I have to !
Game of ladder and bill,
Somethings I can never do.

Clock strikes mid-night,
They run inside the caves,
For it's the time of monsters, silly plight,
For if you open your eyes in the days,
Their silhouettes are visible in broad light.
The night is scarred for ever,
But it belongs to her,
And she is so soft, oh yes, sir !
Then why all that terror ?
The match sticks strike,
There is light,
Darkness and her now alike,
There is still freedom if I might.
Rhyme has a different meaning now,
Life is not the 'Belligerent',
Me not 'Neutral', that I vow,
For now I am as indifferent
To her, as life to 'me' and 'how'.

Prerna

is working on a film on Indian gypsies.Interesting.

Samia's new blog

samiasingh.wordpress.com

MORE NEWS

Shyamli made one of the best pixtella's in her class.
Farewell to Aditi, Shyamli, Prerna and Roanna too.
Last I heard Roanna was doing a kind of film on the MAIS Principal with Philly.
Aditi was doing the creative writing course. Along with Shyamli, Aashim etc.
Prerna is still writing.
Pol Science is much in many people's thoughts these days. Radha Mahendru, for instance.
Tejus wrote something on Taare zameen par, which I thought a worthy attempt..
The show must go on as does the bandwagon.
I'm reading Lila by Robert M Pirsig, a book given to me by Pratap, and doing research on Bob Dylan, writing to friends and writing, in that order.
Arka is busy traveling and performing.
Avy has superb stuff written and put up on his blog.
http://avygravy.blogspot.com/
Am I like a rat deserting a sinking ship?

Phantastikon - modern Tagore

Hooked.

My voice has many shades.
It pours out of my inner body,
Throat and neck.
At the end, empty
I feel like a fool
And wait anxiously
For anything,
Even an echo,
In return.
But as usual, nothing -
Silence.
I switch off,
Nauseated by, my voice;
Switched on,
Permeated by, your Silence

Till the next, time.

What is poetry?

Ezra Pound said: Literature is language charged to the uttermost with meaning.
If so: Poetry is langauge charged to the uttermost with significance. - Koshy.
Poetry is prayer. - Samuel Beckett.
Phanopoeia
Melopoeia
Logopoeia
That is poetry. Plagiarized from the Grecians via Pound.
Amen.

News

Roshan is back and still writing, wrintg poetry and doing it well
Look at his blog often, please.