INABILITY

By Ruchika Jajodia
PID 401
11.7.2008

Sometimes when I read a poem,

How do I ever write one?

I toil at it,

yet nothing rhymes or flows from within,

Nothing lyrical,

Nothing poetic,

Nothing simple,

Nothing complicated,

Nothing at all.

Just blankness. A space.

A space so empty and white and hollow.

A space so pure.

Yet it beckons confusion, irritation and frustration.

Why can’t I do it? I waste.

Why do I feel like that?

Too much do I expect of myself, maybe?

Too much do I go against the tide?

Pushing extremes,

Managing expectations,

Of me and my neighbor.

I question – Why do I do that?

What am I trying to prove?

Nothing!

Nothing at all…

Or maybe a lot.

I guess at the end, I achieve nothing

but pain and suffering,

is self-inflicted,

torturing

More than anything else.

“Life is a suffering” said The Buddha.

So, am I trying to negate it?

Go against it?

What stops me from accepting it?

Why don’t I just accept it?

Acceptance is the key

Something with the ability to sail the destructive storms

to serenity.

If I am peaceful within,

Then I am peaceful without,

And there is nothing to fight about.

Nothing to dwell upon,

Nothing to relive,

Nothing negative.

It destroys and removes the garbage,

Clean.

Just blankness. A space.

A space so empty and white and hollow.

A space so pure.

I have the choice.

I always had the choice.

Either worry and trouble,

Or happiness and peace.

Being comfortable with my own self.

Accepting myself the way I am.

When I am happy

Good thoughts flow in,

Good things happen,

Expectations are not burdening and over powering.

So maybe,

One day by the grace

Of the power

Much more greater than I,

I’ll be able to

Write a Poem.

Isn’t that what I intended to do in the beginning?

So for now,

I am not going to get perturbed,

I will let my thoughts flow as they want to.

Is there anyone who has been able to stop time

Apart from The Greatest?

Let go and let in the Almighty!

(END)

Ruchika Jajodia

11.7.08

PRERNA GUPTA'S POEMS

The lines below are what Prerna dug out as she felt she identified it as "poetic" in nature. This was followed by the poem she wrote herself as her assignment.

THE POETIC STUFF

Want to get back to old times

Want to talk

Just talk

Careless whispers floating high

Independent of the guilt of dependence.

Is there existence without dependence?

Any kind of dependence

But what is dependence…?

What are you scared of?

Independence from the guilt of dependence?

Is man self sufficient?

Who epitomizes loneliness as success?

Is it you or is it them?

Can’t escape the pinching pain

With the unbearable strain

Lurking fear of him going away

Who conditions this in you?

Is it you or is it them?

Share of your struggle you will have to bear

Or the caterpillar will die inside, my dear.

I can feel the silence and the movement of these ripples in me. It is amazing how the water can be fluid and still at the same time the stillness soothes me. It gives me the strength to be, to see, to take in, to breathe..

Can you feel the power? Can you feel the cold, the silence.

COMMON Language?

Is there one common language..?

How do you talk then..?

How do you make the other understand?

How do you communicate, then?

The words are the same

But the meanings just change

It doesn’t mean the same

There’s a mis-match in the common game

But ‘mis-fit’ is the one who fails.

THE POEM ITSELF

A search

An unquenched thirst

An encounter, soon to be there

A meeting that was arranged

And we met again

Bewitched by his words

I was already slipping away

In a mad rush things changed

A stranger became an insider

I worshipped him all the way

I was a dreamer who dared to dream

He instead fed on my dreams

My fear was what led me to him

A paradox from the beginning

A parasite at the end.

(ENDS)

A search

An unquenched thirst

An encounter, soon to be there

A meeting that was arranged

And we met again

Bewitched by his words

I was already slipping away

In a mad rush things changed

A stranger became an insider

I worshipped him all the way

I was a dreamer who dared to dream

He instead fed on my dreams

My fear was what led me to him

A paradox from the beginning

A parasite at the end.

WHAT THIS COURSE IS ABOUT!

It feels good to be doing a course on Poetry or, to use a wider term, the Lyrical. This is what Koshy and I intend to do this time around.

Enduring Understandings

· The poetic and the lyrical are modes of expression and communication needed not only by writers but also by designers and artists
· The ability to read, listen to, appreciate and create one’s own poems and lyrics abets this process.

Misconceptions and Assumptions

· The lyric and what is lyrical are the same.

· The poetic and poetry are the same.

· Poetry and its influence has ceased to be of much relevance in today’s world.

· Reading, understanding, enjoying, appreciating and writing poetry is only for the few and not for everyone.

Questions

· Are the definitions of lyric, lyrical, poetic, poetry and influence clear to you?

· Are the bridges already there or the ones you can make between these terms and art and design clear to you?

· Which is more powerful the verbal lyric or the lyric aided by audio- visuals etc?

· What are the different types of lyrics?

· Are you aware of the history of the lyric’s growth and evolution?

· Where do you think the lyrical mode will go/take you from now and here?