There is more yet!

Played against
The whims and fancies
Held on
To the ground beneath.
Of rational choices
Difficult as ever, it seemed to be!
Uncertainty lurks yet
And, hostility the world gives to me.
The torrent that lies within
Resilient to subside
Thrusting to unseen fronts
The soul surging to begin.

Reflections

True deceptions
Falltered perceptions
Farce, our guise
Life, less wise!
Overlooked, felonies
Life, a blur
Nothing i hold, to stir.
Pardon, my faith
No more
I can bear, the charade
To the truth
Of yonder
I wish to wilt.
Too dosed by life
I walk along
I know I am lost!
I know I am lost!

Soliloquy!

It never occured to me until my roommate here left to her vacation, that I had never lived alone! Incidentally, it so happened to be one of those times when i was feeling very low. The fact that I could not reach out to my parents whenever i felt like took the toll over my emotions. Of course, I was mentally prepared that a roomie( a long time friend at that) would be no substitute. The least I expected here was a person to talk to atleast. I was not prepared to be all alone, and here I was facing a situation where I did not have a choice. Oh yes! Now I know why they say "Life teaches it's lessons the hard way!"

I was quick to snap back at friends when they called me a spoilt brat. I did not want to be called so! And i loved being spoilt, and now i miss all of that, although all the while i denied it! Time brought me to a juncture at which I had to cook myself, fend for myself, pay my bills, cook and take care of myself! Its so hard to beleive that I was not even bothered about taking care of myself back at home. Mom was always there!

Few hours into my soliloquy, i started getting used to it. Not that I had a better choice to choose from to say! I am glad my friend was not here, for I realized that loneliness is really a state of mind. I am sure i did not feel lonely when I immersed myself in my favourite book or when I put in all my efforts to complete my assignments!

All of life!

Moments,Ephemeral
Much as I do not want it so.
Sparks of memory
Relentlessly, reminisce they do.
Horizons,ever changing
Leaves me guessing, of things I do not know.
These winding paths,
Insight on me they bestow
All of life!

Back to Ogden Nash! Not really!

Ok! I have a confession to make. I was introduced to Ogden Nash's poems by my friend VJ, fondly called so by me. Incidentally, VJ happens to be a good poet too. Whats more! He can be at his best when it comes to sarcasm, Biting sarcasm.

Here is a recent mail that I got from VJ, in which he refers to my liking for Ogden Nash(or so i think!).

I hope you all enjoy reading the poem too!

Now the mail!

---------------------------------------

"Okay, so I promised P that I'd write out Ogden Nash poems for her: she'd liked that other one so much.

And I figured all of you are likely to enjoy it, so you're all in the 'To' list.

A Mars bar apiece per meter of poetry would be considered adequate recompense. :P

Oh well, if wishes were wings, fish would ride bicycles....or something like that, right? Sighhhhhhh......... Anyway, here goes. Hope you enjoy it!"--- (This is VJ' part)


VERY LIKE A WHALE - Ogden Nash

One thing that literature would be greatly the better for
Would be a more restricted employment by authors of simile and metaphor.
Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts,
Can't seem just to say that anything is the thing it is but have to go out of their way to say that it is like something else.
What does it mean when we are told
That the Asssyrian came down like a wolf on the fold?
In the first place, George Gordon Byron had had enough experience
To know that it probably wasn't just one Assyrian, it was a lot of Assyrians.
However, as too many arguments are apt to induce apoplexy and thus hinder longevity,
We'll let it pass as sone Assyrian for the sake of brevity.
Now then, this particular Assyrian, the one whose cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold,
Just what does the poet mean when he says he came down like a wolf on the fold?
In heaven and earth more than is dreamed of in our philosophy there are a great many things,
But I don't imagine that among them there is a wolf with purple and gold cohorts or purple and gold anythings.
No, no, Lord Byron, before I'll believe that this Assyrian was actually like a wolf I must have some kind of proof;
Did he run on all fours and did he have a hairy tail and a big red mouth and big white teeth and did he say Woof woof?
Frankly I think it very unlikely, and all you were entitled to say, at the very most,
Was that the Assyrian cohorts came down like a lot of Assyrian cohorts about to destroy the Hebrew host.
But that wasn't fancy enough for Lord Byron, oh dear me no, he had to invent a lot of figures of speech and then interpolate them,
With the result that whenever you mention the Old Testament soldiers to people they say Oh yes, they're the ones that a lot of wolves dressed up in gold and purple ate them.
That's the kind of thing that's being done all the time by poets, from Homer to Tennyson;
They're always comparing ladies to lilies and veal to venison,
And they always say things like that the snow is a whilte blanket after a winter storm.
Oh it is, is it, all right then, you sleep under a six-inch blanket of snow and I'll sleep under a half-inch blanket of unpoetical blanket of material and we'll see which one keeps warm.
And after that maybe you'll begin to comprehend dimly
What I mean by too much metaphor and simile.

------------------------------------
That ends Vj's mail.

What i loved about this poem, are the last two lines. It contracts the entire poem and the sarcasm is poignant!

I replied to VJ- "Way to go Charlie"