Verbatim

[crazy]

yes i love this song too
but i guess my favourite is "kaakkai siraginile ........"

[Designer]

Q : your translation of Bharathiyar song: "NallathOr VeeNai SeythEn" is good and so is the poem 'bleeding beats' !

to seep
into the pain
that always
had its place
---
don't tempt its jealously
it will only
make me bleed

[thamizhvaanan]

What happened to the Nightingale? no more poems?

[Querida]

:P @ Thamizhvaanan...am no nightingale!...be careful or i might prove my point by singing!

if i resent life
with all my neccessities met
if i question faith
with wayward goals met
then it is not life i question
but the vile being
that has in hell its destiny met

*********************************

woman do not
falsely anoint me
as the gift of god

nothing more than
the consequences
of animal desire

why pestilence
strive to spread
on a dying source
is beyond any reason
that is credited to higher beings

if this is life...there is nothing more to see.

****************************************

Ashes To Ashes
Dust To Dust
To Return Once More
Is A Merciful Must

[crazy]

Ashes To Ashes
Dust To Dust
To Return Once More
Is A Merciful Must

nice....welcome back

[Querida]

if in failure
facades scatter
and claim to
have henceforth
been summoned
does truth
stand by and
act out its
realization
or does it become
the ultimate mask
of placid
acceptance?

**********************************

there is a prudent opaqueness
that demands to seep
through the holes
reflected in the panes
that house the glistening
shards of visionary panes
its call lingers lost
slinking in and out of the clinks
in shattered shreds
ruminating loudly yet ignored quite sharply
refracting the reverberations
of melted sand
which continue
to see only
what is transparently
dark

**********************

there lies tragedy
just beyond the hills
of stones that dot the
fields of the listless dead
whatever rest
that was promised
lays unslept
treachous livingness
slithers hither and thither
and nibbles at the ashes
drying upon the waves
hurrying to capture
the soul that remains
trapped in the clutches
of its cursers
mercy be upon
all those who slumber
in the slighted hope
of idleness

[Querida]

A friend showed this poem to me and both agreed on its truthfulness...however biting...thought i'd share it with you all.

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sank chill on my brow -
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me -
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well: -
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met -
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee? -
With silence and tears.

- Lord Byron

[Querida]

After a long while I'm back....foolishly thinking that a trip to the motherland would yield creativeness unbound....what i didn't know was that i would be too awed to even put what i felt into words...but of the few i did pen i will share.

there is a rumour
of empty space
its hallow call
fills the breath
of room it
usually occupies

as it tries its
feeble best
to spread its peace

the clusters of chaos
have advancedly arrived
they nudge and jostle
trilling their slogans
each wanting to
trigger

struggling one above the other
to subsume
in desires to consume

"that is the dilemma when you think too much"

[Querida]

When will the
words that spill
from pen step aside
to the native inside?

The brimming pronouncements
do not carry the heart as do
the foreign sounds
that claim they are indeed
original
yet the thinkings
remain clattering away in
latin
inching forward to express
what too many words
cannot feel

[Querida]

there is a yearnful parting
that never came

we search for it without notice
whether or not an illusion

not even the id will scandously admit

never knowing if each met
will ever be the ONE

as a replacement eager to be betrayed as us.

two strangers never encountered
convinced they will know:
innately, irrevocably

and as they contemplate thus
seemingly guarenteed in deed

each pass the other
remaining one less solely.