Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Fairy tale
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For there be a life, akin a fairy tale,
To the nameless isle it lets me sail,
The time flips, whilst the raindrops drip,
The words rinse, for a to be told tale hence,
I puff away fresh fag, devoid any jetlag,
I smell berries, also farm-fresh cherries,
The land is weedy, no one greedy, neither needy,
Gulping wine, slurping, burping, singing fine,
It wasn’t night, time wasn’t right,
But I don’t care, for it was a dreamy fare,
No no no… it wasn’t the shire...
For there be a life, akin a fairy tale
Like I pen down in an email….
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Thursday, June 12, 2008
Drizzle
Drizzle reminds me of the monsoons to come, Clouds promise me of the frosty days,
Wind escorts the dry leaves on the side roads, Walls wait for the shadows,
Dripping sparrows chattered away in joy, Tinted trees said they love it,
Rusty roofs said they aren’t, so did my Nike shoes,
Asking me how far is too far, said I, “I know my destination”
For the journey is just the time spent in between….
For the blog asked me a clumsy poem, I did it thus far….
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Monday, June 9, 2008
Monday
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The other day, I bought a pair of balloons from a girl at the traffic signal.
I realized that balloons were such fun whilst I was child, to play with. Now too, they weren’t bad as they made me recall my childish days….But the same balloons didn’t mean so much fun for the girl, who was selling them as she too was a child…
I couldn’t help but to think of it for a minute and then I forgot.
On a lighter note, a couple of things I observed over the last weekend…
RGV almost got it right, this time in Sarkar Raj, whilst at the other part of world Roger Federer never gets it right at the French Open….
Then I got two things:
- Greats fail because they do, they try…
- Every post isnt a great post.. The fun part is in writing.. not in making it the best..
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Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Grandpa
Grandpa,
It’s with deep self-indulgence I think of you today... I don’t want to give any fancy reasoning for not being able to recall you for such a longtime since you left for heaven…
I remember growing up listening to your 1950’s stories when you said that you were able to fill in a bullock cart with vegetables, edibles, fruits et all for a mere 100 rupees…I was fascinated...Later when I really grew up, you were still around but no more I was enthused at listening to you, as you were by that time an element of gag subject with the cousins… I was growing up you see...
It’s been really long since I thought of you, what with me being busy with my studies, settling down and stuff like that. I never could really realize that you weren’t like walls, books, furniture or any other “thing” with which I grew up... But you were in fact the very reason why I am here, seeing this oh so busy world, talking, meeting, living with people like me…
Pa, pardon me for not giving you enough time in my life, as I realize I was busy wasting my time…
Come back to me, my dreams at the least…
Luv,
D