Month: March 2017

“That much I can do
I am exhausted,”
cries, Mona.

She is a resolute girl,
Her ways are different.
Sincere she is always.

She never gives up
fights to the end
wins finally.

Why is she so downhearted?
I find not any means
nor any clue.

Mona turns sullen.
Her quietude is stifling
against her sprightly nature.

She tries in this endeavour,
finds little success. She feels let down,
being something new to her.

I leave her to herself ,
hoping she would recover
as Time is the best healer.

It is been years since
It is been a decade or more.
I had been out of my town
not permanently but as often
I did not foresee.

It is one I did not expect.
It is a surprise could be a shock too.
Away from my place of love,
from a place of comfort.
I did not foresee.

It has been a venture.
Can I call it an adventure?
In a land completely new,
strange and different.
I did not foresee.

A shudder passes down my spine.
I turn back and look.
Being a retrospection in general.
I have crossed many a hurdle.
I did not foresee.

How did my sojourn pay me?
It promised a lucrative revenue.
How did I pay it back?
It extracted a return being my health.
I did not foresee.

I know not when this would end.
I saw a flash the day before.
My ordeal seems to come to a close.
Well, that was the day before.
Today, I see a blackout.
I did not foresee.

Little by little shall I say
came up the writing
ideas intercepted in a row
thoughts gathered in a flow.

The script takes a form
beautiful in a way
graceful in its stride
focusing on the environment.

The stretch out and stretch back
carry a lot of information
interesting and based on reality
a circumspection of the ignorance around.

The behaviour of the masses
the disrespect to Nature
condemning its beatitude
by their discourteous acts.

The words express a concern
a cry like situation as a whole
emanating from the depth,
appear crazy but are authentic.

The writer loses herself
deep into the topic
with illusions and delusions
that keep her on toes.

The involvement has been for years
The indulgence is proactive.
True to the word, the script
would become a masterpiece.

The happenings portend a challenge.
Merging and acquiring pose a threat.
It is the business that calls for action.

The years of quarrels without any insight.
The ego clashes for nothing at all.
The control being in the hands of few.

All the years it has been no progress.
Seen a lot of dormancy and delay.
One not letting another to live.

This is apparent being a slow death.
The one being a torture than the real.
The immediate kills you at the moment.

Feel it is better to die a valiant death.
Patience devolves a withdrawal.
Not that I mean to be hasty.

Action should become the prerogative.
Let us act and accomplish the duties
before we take the final rest.

The wrong side of an age
brings in a discipline.

Traversing the wrong side of the road
leads to a chaos.

Eating the wrong type of food
causes an illness.

Speaking at the wrong time
creates a panic.

Such be the wrongs one does
sets in a disaster.

The flaws and mistakes
place us in a situation
dark and gloom.

If it is the wrong that governs
obviously Satan holds control.

My mind is not in one place.
It is always on the move
whilst my body stays constant
living in a town all throughout.

I am in India in the morning
fly to Toronto in the afternoon.
Visit Sydney during tea tile
back in Malaysia to sleep.

I visualise the temples in my town
the snow-clad roads in the noon
listen to a concert in the Opera House
duly hear the sun set namaz in the mosque.

It is so all through the year
I being in my sleepy town
relaxing on my couch with closed eyes
while my mind is flies.

A little while ago
heard a blast.

It seemed so near
the heart jumped out.

Held on to the wooden door
as if it would protect me.

It did to a certain extent
being sturdy and strong.

I tried to call out
my voice did not work.

Could hear only a whisper
inaudible even to me.

Oh! Have I lost my voice?
I wonder still holding the door.

I tried to move.
I could not take a step

They turn heavy.
Fixed to the floor.

Oh! Cannot I walk?
I wonder still holding the door.

I wish to release my hand from the door.
I am unable to do so.

Oh! my hand, my hand. I cry.
am an immovable being.

I am able to see.
How long I do not know.

I hear music in my ears.
Lo! am I deaf?

My status continues.
I moan.

Am I to be like a doll forever?

The Krishna Leela, a cosmic dance
a game of infatuation and romance
tantalises the beholders.

The world comes to a standstill
portrayed in the miniature scenario.
The Gopikas are bewitched by Krishna.
The churning of curd stops abruptly
while the hands that hold the rope
remains motionless, the eyes seem to fall out.
The Gopikas see him in a corner
face smeared with butter as a toddler.

In a few houses, Krishna walks in as a boy
climbs up the ladder steals butter
and plays with the Gopikas.

A little away he enters as an adult
teases and plays a love game with them

All at the same time Krishna takes the various forms
An implication that he is one and the same,
a child, a boy and an adult. All to make people merry.

Perhaps for a reason known to those who read between.
Creativity is a fruit of passion be it anywhere and anytime.