Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Veiled

30 peoms in 30 days challenge! Day 6

Life Magazine's Top 50 Photos of 2009

I am enveloped in a sea of white,
The scarf, neatly tucked underneath my chin.
I am faceless and nameless,
My eyes, black slits, my windows to the world.

I walk through the busy streets.
My beauty a mystery,
My feelings invisible, just like I am.

But in my silence there is strength,
My veil is my honour and my identity,
It is my inheritence,
The legacy of my ancestors.

It liberates me because I am unknown,
It stifles me because I remain unknown.

It is not shame or fear that makes me look down,
But prayers, my eyes closed and head bent
As I hear the familiar call to The All Merciful,
Ringing in this land of Seven Sands,
A land I call my home.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Shiva, Hitler and Venus

30 poems in 30 days challenge! Day 5

Shiva, a young boy with divine powers,
When he sang, there were storms and torrential rains,
Trees fell, mud houses melted,
But crops flourished and villagers prospered;
He was their destroyer and their saviour.

Hitler, the neighbour's cat, a menace to mice,
Dreadful and dangerous,
Regal and solitary,
An unforgiving hunter who killed them all.

Lake Venus, beautiful and serene,
White as an angel's white robe in winter,
Blue as the blue bird in summer,
The seductive Goddess of the the Island.

The question begs to be asked, dear reader:
Would ol' Shakespeare's rose by any other name
Indeed smell as sweet?

Sunday, April 4, 2010

The Scramble

30 poems in 30 days challenge! Day 4

The bride hurled the bouquet into the crowd,
It took its own whimsical path through the winds
Before landing in her hands.

There was a scramble and then a shout of joy,
Her destiny was sealed by roses,
Yes, she would have her boy.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

The Masterpiece

30 poems in 30 days challenge! Day 3

The Prima Donna sang while he painted.

She swirled through a lyrical melody,
He brushed a stroke of blue serenity on a white canvas.
She strung a low note with dramatic intensity,
He drew a circle of melancholy, bold black and centered.
Her pitch and tempo rose; high and fast,
He splattered crimson onto it with passion.
Her voice was building into a crescendo,
He knew better than to stop now.
A swish of anger,
A smear of dread,
A trace of eternal bliss!

Then suddenly she stopped.
It was his modern art masterpiece.

Friday, April 2, 2010

She knew

30 poems in 30 days challenge! Day 2

She knew it would rain today
The cloudless, sunny sky had nothing on her.

She knew the sky would darken with thunderous black clouds,
And the rains would fall like never before,
Just like her tears had, the day he'd left her.

The weather report on the radio
The weatherman on TV
The Weather app on the iPhone
And The Weather Channel
All proclaimed three days of blissful sunshine
But she knew otherwise.

She knew the forecasts were tricking everyone,
But she wasn't fooled.
She's been fooled before - not again, no, never.

She knew it would rain just like she knew he would never call,
But he called and it rained.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Lift

30 poems in 30 days challenge! Day 1

High heels and a nose job,
Nothing else could lift her spirits.

Parachutes, airplanes, a rocket to the Moon,
Lifting him up and setting him free all at once.

The first Rising Sun, martial arts, Yoko Ueno,
She rises and shines, deep in concerntation then soaring in rhythm.

If the things that could lift us up, could keep us there forever,
Would we know ecstacy?

Saturday, November 7, 2009

The Coffee Shop

Gulp and drown,
Sip and escape,
Swallow and let go,
The experience of drinking coffee.

Soft-spoken words,
Echoing clinks,
The scent of Java beans
And Sumatra.
You take in all.

A modern-day barista,
Like a traditional chashitsu,
Tranquility, Attaining the Zen,
In ecelectic beats and cosmopolitan thoughts.

Apples and mice,
Books and newspapers,
Art and aroma,
Thoughts and notes,
Conversation and creativity,
All intertwined,
In this technicolor quilt of life.

The sign in the window reads: "Espresso for the soul".

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Being free

What is freedom?

Is it standing by the ocean and letting the waves wash away the day's grime and disquiet ?

Is it drinking hot coffee curled up under a blanket, sitting on the terrace under the starlit night, street lights, whistling winds and rustling leaves keeping you company?

Is it standing atop a mountain, feeling the weight of the world lift up and disappear into the winds?

Is it jumping into a waterfall, eyes wide open, cannon ball stance, secretly dreading and desiring the big splash at the same time?

Whatever it is, it is worth having. And never worth the sacrifice.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Phone Calls

Inspired from movie watched last night
Theme: Repetitive and boring day-to-day phone conversations

"What's up, Mom", she mumbled through the crackling line.
"Ummm... I said what's up?", a little louder this time.
She hated how she always had to do that on international calls. Repeat herself.
"Oh, nothing much... I just got back from work, sitting around. Ya, everything's fine."
Yesterday's four lines repeated today.

"What's up, hon?, she got the tone just right.
Upbeat, just how she's practiced right before dialing his number.
"Umm, nothing much...just got back from a movie with the ladies."
"Why didn't you call me yesterday?", she mocked a fake jovialness.
"Oh... aliright. Ya, everyhting's fine."
Relief laced with disappointment.

"Hiya, what's up?"
"No, not today. How is everything going on your end?"
"That's good to hear. Good. Great."
"Maybe we'll do lunch next week. Ya, everything's fine."
Both lies.

Phone calls or bullshit social conversations?
Distance was in more than just the miles.

Monday, June 1, 2009

The Beholder

She was a show-stopper, a heart-breaker,
A porcelain doll, always perfect and proper.
He was her friend, her confidante,
Uncontrollably in love, but too afraid to touch her.

One day, she was gone
T’was past midnight, no text message or call.
He sat there wondering, is she with another man?
One more deserving of her elegance and charm?

Suddenly there was a weak knock at the door,
His stomach churned as his angel’s eyes he bore.
Grimed and bleeding,
She lay crumpled to the floor.

He cleaned her wounds, and washed her face
And noticed for the very first time,
The wrinkles under her mascara-smudged eyes,
The small freckles on her cheeks usually hidden under pink blush,
The scar on the nape of her neck, old and deep and dramatic.
Always concealed under wisps of foundation.
The frown on her brow created crevasses in her soft, white skin.

He stood stunned.
In her imperfection, she had never looked more beautiful.
He made love to her like never before.