tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35539786007930021032024-03-05T17:00:59.291-08:00Erratic ThoughtsSome stray strands of twisted brain waves...Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-36058585359372383282011-09-05T20:17:00.000-07:002011-09-05T20:35:54.662-07:00A dry spell...<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9_Jmj_u2qeDSSu5QmTpHWUEkLOJrCWmPetAH41WjGzKUwaiWNOXqI7-1IqXpoUomzkf4arB2ud4SMlnbRXj-ZFm8WQu9XUmOe2jUqAljci5ZfxuHmZOoDfU624NJpONX02zTauBAhU0bp/s1600/magpie_81.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649080968296621378" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9_Jmj_u2qeDSSu5QmTpHWUEkLOJrCWmPetAH41WjGzKUwaiWNOXqI7-1IqXpoUomzkf4arB2ud4SMlnbRXj-ZFm8WQu9XUmOe2jUqAljci5ZfxuHmZOoDfU624NJpONX02zTauBAhU0bp/s320/magpie_81.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></p><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:60%;">abandoned farm, Dublin, Ohio</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Raking the stillness<br />I leant on hope<br />watching memory gravels<br />clogging my rusty desires<br />and I fell on a lost trail<br />wounding my pride.<br />I yearn for warmth<br />of a woolen caress<br />to smooth wrinkled needs.<br />I search sunshine<br />in the blazing wet spirits<br />burning my feisty soul<br />I hear a cough<br />from mislaid wishes<br />mowing at wry silence<br />I believe it is<br />a momentary interlude<br />trespassing my life<br />I trust it will pass<br />with the rolling wheel of time<br />into a new dawn<br />bringing shimmer of faith.</span><br /><span style="font-size:60%;">~ET 06/09/2011</span></p><br /><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Written for </span><a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Magpie tales</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> #81.I tampered with the brightness of the pic,my apologies! Do visit other takes on this prompt:)</span></p>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-87004404454253769642011-08-22T03:19:00.000-07:002011-08-22T22:16:10.790-07:00Do people really change with time?<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-E_anuWmhRtJlSV_bbm68CzatWAYmFWVZuYO7APWMXHu7eLW-J3H1KW5bvpPgjpYjRtqUhwlhWEUBmELrd4hBEMKWiW-TScGnuFufgySrqZeRWQVBW8ha8Kb7wA8qLWRY2PLjR-HZVY-c/s1600/Magpie79.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643623398226267986" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-E_anuWmhRtJlSV_bbm68CzatWAYmFWVZuYO7APWMXHu7eLW-J3H1KW5bvpPgjpYjRtqUhwlhWEUBmELrd4hBEMKWiW-TScGnuFufgySrqZeRWQVBW8ha8Kb7wA8qLWRY2PLjR-HZVY-c/s320/Magpie79.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p>
<br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:60%;">unidentified photo, found in a Missouri antique shop</span></p>
<br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:60%;">as shared by Tess at </span><a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:60%;">Magpie tales
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<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">It was a hot July afternoon. Hitting the 3rd bottle of Heineken from ice box, he wiped sweat from his forehead on his upturned sleeve. What is it with summers? First you wait for them to come by and when they do, you can’t seem to wait for them to get over.
<br />
<br /><em>Okay Jeff! Just one more plank and the deal is over. Stop grumbling!</em> He cuffed himself mentally.
<br />
<br />Keeping the bottle aside, as he was working on the last plank he remembered summers weren’t always so grumpy. In fact, as a child he never felt the heat of it. Along with three of his friends he used to have a lot of fun in summers. They had their own Fantastic Four version, scooping around the small town looking for trouble. He grinned at the things they sometimes found out. Folks here were scared of them especially during summers when schools were off and the fantastic four were let loose. Moreover, July was a special month to him because it was his birthday month. He used to rule their group for an entire day with no school, no studies, lots of cake, many surprise gifts & just pure fun.
<br />
<br />Lost in his thoughts, he hammered the nail by mistake on his thumb.
<br />With an <em>Ouch!</em> and serious cursing he was brought back from flash back.
<br />Silently appraising his work he jumped down the last tree step he just plugged in.
<br />
<br /><em>There! It looks good. It could use one more coat of paint.
<br /></em>
<br />He had been working on the tree house which the four of them had built and battered. All his friends long gone their separate ways were coming in town a week later and he wanted to give them a big surprise by bringing back some of their memories. He was considering about that paint job, rubbing at the back of his neck, when a car honked from behind him. It didn’t register him instantly that the honking was for him as he was spaced out again with his mind imagining the dumbfounded faces of his friends when they see their tree house again. Screeching tootle of the car then pierced through his thoughts and he winced as he turned around.
<br />
<br /><em>Surprise. Surprise. Surprise.
<br /></em>
<br />Three voices screamed simultaneously from the car.
<br />
<br /><em>Holy shit! What are you guys doing here?</em> Jeff yelled as he ran towards the car.
<br />
<br />Emma all but shrieked
<br />
<br /><em>Hap Hap Happy Birthday Jeffie boy!
<br /></em>
<br />Just the way she always used to wish him. Behind her Erick was smiling widely.
<br />From the front seat, Ella whistled wolfishly.
<br />
<br />Speechless as he saw his three friends beaming at him, he wondered did anybody ever get over their childhood?</span>
<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>
<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">***Written for <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/">Magpie Tales</a> #79. Have a look and enjoy some refreshingly nice takes on the prompt!</span>
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<br />Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-20738250292529548542011-08-17T02:21:00.000-07:002011-08-17T02:31:01.313-07:00Such is life....<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-2tIRbQSjhf3UUJQgfwd-fqT73TjoffdOF9KkhxVowoOTzDbUQT4Ub2emoJCDmAnEVzeuEg5gWZN1H7Phz-oCYkinezZfET2WcuEiItZzbvBCkCSJt-a2tBSUEMXYuzimXA74xKmCXVg/s1600/Magpie_78.jpg"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641752879044717650" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-2tIRbQSjhf3UUJQgfwd-fqT73TjoffdOF9KkhxVowoOTzDbUQT4Ub2emoJCDmAnEVzeuEg5gWZN1H7Phz-oCYkinezZfET2WcuEiItZzbvBCkCSJt-a2tBSUEMXYuzimXA74xKmCXVg/s320/Magpie_78.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> </span></div>
<br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Image by Tess as </span></div>
<br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">shared at <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/">Magpie tales</a></span></div>
<br /><p><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Jane stepped on the front porch of her little cottage. She hadn’t seen Robin all day, but she was too tired to think about her 5year old. Juggling her newborn, Kierra, from one hip to other she searched for the keys in her purse.
<br />
<br />If only her husband was still alive, he would have been there with her all along.
<br />In a moment of helplessness, soothing her restless baby, she dropped the keys on the door mat. Cursing under her breath, with every ounce of her strength she retrieved them.
<br />Three bloody stitches, big ones all paining at the same time. How is somebody expected to manage them singlehandedly all at once was getting beyond her.
<br />But she got Kierra out of it, she smiled.
<br />
<br />She opened the door and stood for a whole minute to look around.
<br /><em>Where are you Robin? What are you up to?
<br /></em>
<br />Placing her bags by the door, trying to ignore her empty stomach, she went straight to Robin’s room. As expected he was not there.
<br />She dragged herself to the adjacent room, once a parlor, was now turning into a store room. It was locked from inside. She knocked and called out.
<br />
<br /><em>Robin, are you in there? Mama’s home, sweetie.
<br /></em>
<br /><em>Coming</em> said a muffled voice.
<br />The door slowly opened and she was spellbound.
<br />
<br />All messed up, Robin was standing there and beaming at them. The room was painted with a big welcome note in wobbly words, for his kid sister. Sparkles on every free surface and a small table in the middle of the room with small candles and clumsily put together peanut-butter-lettuce sandwiches and baby bottle of milk and whole jug of lemonade.
<br />
<br />Tears in her eyes, her faith in God rekindled!</span></p>
<br /><div align="left"></div>
<br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Written for </span><a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Magpie tales</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> #78. Have a look at other lovely takes on the prompt.
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<br /><div align="center"></div>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-20519163464762586692011-08-08T23:44:00.000-07:002011-08-11T23:11:56.718-07:00Cold Summer Evening…<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju8WjCFGfZJCd8qwbvK_sqVTKzeoqluPYiTZpHNk7xJXK1lwZ8Iv3jlMLd4KsQCfX0OQfB_12InBJRhXzni2m1Zqks46LrdgEP92kJeAFppoWCkONyEseKyyTmT4ly7qY_f6pfm-6dx7wz/s1600/Hopper%252C_Edward_summer_evening_1947.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638743746451517218" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju8WjCFGfZJCd8qwbvK_sqVTKzeoqluPYiTZpHNk7xJXK1lwZ8Iv3jlMLd4KsQCfX0OQfB_12InBJRhXzni2m1Zqks46LrdgEP92kJeAFppoWCkONyEseKyyTmT4ly7qY_f6pfm-6dx7wz/s320/Hopper%252C_Edward_summer_evening_1947.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></p>
<br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Summer Evening, Edward Hopper, 1947
<br /></span></div></span>
<br />
<br /><p><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">It was happening, after months of waiting, it was happening.
<br />She thought of the time she had patiently wasted. On <em>him</em>.
<br />To adjust and to adapt to his whims and ways.
<br />10 years, 2 months and 14 days, but who was counting?
<br />And she was weak in math, but she managed the counting.
<br />
<br />She could have been anywhere at this moment, enjoying a drink at
<br />the pub down the street or having her shop in the countryside.
<br />For crying out loud, she could have been happily married and would
<br />have been enjoying a mid summer make out on the portico on a quiet farm.
<br />
<br />But she was here, she had to be here.
<br />How couldn’t she be here after spending so much time scheming to get to him?
<br />She almost choked at her resentment.
<br />
<br />Any minute, and she knew, he will kneel down and say it.
<br />He will give her that warm knowing smile, waiting for her obvious yes.
<br />
<br />But did she want this? Want him? After all this time?
<br />After all her sacrifices?
<br />She had to make a quick decision before he said those words.
<br />And she made her choice, love for him overwhelmed her.
<br />
<br />A hand on his heart, he said those words. <em>Some words</em>.
<br />She was dumbstruck.
<br />
<br /><em>I am getting married.</em> Waiting a beat<em>. To your sister.
<br />I finally asked her, today.
<br /></em>And he smiled.
<br />She shivered.</span></p>
<br />
<br /><p><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Blind-folded or blind-fooled in love, she still remembered that mid-summer night.
<br />******
<br />Written for <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2011/08/mag-77.html">Magpie Tales</a> #77. Thank you Tess, for that excellent prompt.</span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">
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<br /></span>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-24938417069717079612011-08-02T00:33:00.000-07:002011-08-02T03:43:01.298-07:00Hidden secrets<p align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">This one is for <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/">Magpie Tales</a>. Have a look at the amazing takes on this prompt from fellow bloggers.</span></p><br /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636184667722365362" style="WIDTH: 204px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGARMEWqGfY_saEv36wqhDQYwN5hI89mqsKh0LZtO3GXGJIhEtFjaICO_G-r9cmvuCbAGX0CGxmAqJE_dgysnIjpNzW2GrlbtXCkBlCLXay6UH6TAlKtOrRltqXRomHM6BvRJ66YSxT06/s320/old-wind-mill-skip-hunt.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><br /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Image by Skip Hunt<br />as shared at </span><a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:78%;">Magpie Tales</span></a><br /></p><br /><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">It was getting quite dark outside; she couldn’t see clearly through the mess.<br />She reached out for the last box and gave up. It was too dark to make out its contents.<br />With a grunt she stood up and searched for the switch.<br /><br /><em>It had to be somewhere around here.</em><br /><br />Cursing a little, she started feeling her way through the clutter in her basement. Finally her hand hit the switch and light poured in the damp and dirty basement.<br /><br />That’s when she saw the discarded rusty fan lying in the far corner of the room, on the floor. Along with the rust she saw the fan tinted with lot of yellow patches.<br />She went closer to get a better look at it.<br />Squinting, she picked it up. Scraping the little patch, she tried to smell it.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Hmm.<br /></em></span><span style="font-size:85%;">So this is where her jelly beans and orange gumdrops went. Her <em>missing candies</em> have been coming down here, been devoured by sticky-hands. She was sure the culprits were her 4 year old twins.<br /><br />Boxes forgotten, she stomped her way up to the nursery. </span></p>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-12865968746432264802011-07-28T22:12:00.000-07:002011-07-28T22:17:43.716-07:00Just me and Just you.....<p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Caught up in my book of memories<br />with every turn of these crunchy pages<br />I recall each solitary moment<br />we spent in cradle of happiness<br /><br />A nudge here, a kick there<br />a grin for shared private joke,<br />a wink for a stolen coke,<br />a hug for euphoric madness,<br />a lunatic day of total shoplift,<br />a panic on burnt food<br />- nothing to eat,<br />a joint cry on onion peel<br />or was it a combined cry for no from him?<br /><br />A shout on unruliness,<br />an understanding silence,<br />a push for confidence,<br />a pull of remembrance,<br />a dance in new outfits,<br />a whisper on heard tidbits,<br />a fight with wooden spoons,<br />a drink on twilight moons,<br />a prank on ungrateful neighbor,<br />a gossip of hard day’s labor;<br />-each page gracefully enfolds<br />an album of reminiscences<br /><br />I challenged that sky<br />with the vastness of my joy<br />when I found a hand to hold<br />with a heart of gold<br />Friends better entwined than us<br />God kept them for himself<br />For you are my closest friend<br />And I am yours, too<br />We're stuck to each other<br />Just me and just you</span></p>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-35848185227558376232011-03-16T22:26:00.000-07:002011-03-17T01:38:09.624-07:00Running temperature and mind!The other day, I was taking a walk, now I don't know why I was walking in the middle of an afternoon with the sun sparing not even a slightest thought to me...but after walking some I was thirsty, sweaty and tired..You get the picture, right?<br />So I leaned against a tree trying to compose myself...I did not notice it at first, may be my sweat was winning over rational thinking...But I noticed, rather felt, after sometime that the bark was warm at a particular spot...rest all was cool against my burning skin. <br />A normal person should think that somebody might have just left this very spot, doing just exactly what I was doing...<br />But thinking of the thoughts that crossed my mind then, they were really funny...err, quite foolish actually...<br />My first thought, am I leaning against a ghost leaning against this tree? Couldn't have been more absurd...Wait listen to the second one...is something going on inside the tree at this very spot? N seriously, wait and read on...next I started looking up if there was a gap in those thick leafy braches, that the sun rays were burning up this spot... Well, this could have been a good one unless goddamn it! why wasn’t I feeling those sunburns if I was leaning at that very spot….Okay I won't mention the next one...it's pretty lame...if you have't already labeled me with that, that is...<br />After a few minutes of total insanity, my sulking consciousness gave me mental kick and I stopped gawking at the tree so suspiciously...I was attracting quite a few curious looks from the audience gathering around...humph...A nosy audience always brings you back to reality, I guess, a staring one especially...<br />I tried to shoo away my convoluted thoughts and excused myself and practically ran away from the spot...<br />Later, I was told by an ever-enthusiastic friend of mine that a duffer created a ruckus down the lane. I thought it best not to mention who the duffer was!!!<br /><br />P.S.: I stopped taking afternoon strolls…They are truly injurious to my mind!!!<br />P.P.S: How does one wel-come summer? well I just did...Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-86298263353574656472011-02-09T05:27:00.000-08:002011-02-09T05:48:12.696-08:00An affair with emotions….<div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;">Late one night I sat down thinking about different expressions on the faces passing by and mused at their trigger points. I zeroed down to emotions and this was what I came up with...</span></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"><br /><br /><br />Ever seen that vast sea-<br />Still water& bustling waves<br />Ever seen that cosmic sky-<br />Burning sun & serene rainbow<br />I have dissolved velvety memories in this sea<br />spewed dwindling thoughts into this sky<br /><br />I have been the needle that stitches its prick<br />I have been the wick that melts its candle<br />I have been vulnerable & quivering<br />-coy silence on sensuous red lips<br />I have been mushy juicy cherry<br />-crushed between tangled tongue licks<br /><br />I have felt sovereignty<br />of a bird set out of its cage<br />Free to fly-<br />I have felt confinement<br />of the trap of his arms<br />me ready to comply –<br /><br />I have been pleased like the stray string<br />Just freed from a windblown tousled hair<br />I have been content like the clay<br />Secured in a thick pricey ware<br /><br />I have been transparent like<br />black on white love letter<br />-from gramps to granny<br />I have been mysterious like<br />black dreamy almond eyes<br />-his martini’s ignominy<br /><br />I have had the imprint of my gold band<br />-dint of thirty years<br />I have had the mark from a winning dive<br />-dent from jolly peers<br /><br />I have been drunk for the losing goalie<br />-Had a thing for him<br />I have been drunk for crossing finishing line<br />-Got a kiss from him<br /><br />I have been caught unawares<br />By a graze from a hurrying stranger<br />I have been lured into awareness<br />By a flick of robe over my shoulders<br /><br />I have banged my head<br />For a yes to an on-the-knee proposal<br />Words stuck somewhere-<br />I have banged my head<br />For a song strummed on my guitar<br />Words blurred somewhere-<br /><br />I have ached<br />for the lost Men in white,<br />on a lonely stormy night,<br />for the mother in labor,<br />for a birdie at mercy of a fowler .<br />I have missed<br />My mamma’s pat, bro’s smack<br />A dad’s high-five, my friend’s spank.<br />I have been perplexed<br />confusion rolling with the pen between my fingers<br />uncertainty potent in my weary cringers.<br /><br />Cursed them, blessed them<br />Wished them, missed them<br />Emotions have played mayhem<br />pushed my mind aside, clogged my thoughts<br />pressed my heart tight , caressed my feelings<br />Emotions have nudged life<br />in my momentary existence,<br />in my fleeting subsistence.</span></div>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-67620112353656924432010-12-12T23:22:00.005-08:002010-12-12T23:42:24.594-08:00For a friend...<div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;">I have been real busy for the past two months, but no excuses...Here is my next post...</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">One of my friend is getting married and shifting places...</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">I am gonna miss her a lot...It's a bitter-sweet emotion. I wish her the best in her life ahead :)</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">This one is for her:</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">I wasn’t looking for it,<br />Or I thought so.<br />Until it came & found me<br />Wrapped me in its splendid warmth<br />Like the bonfire on a chilly winter dawn<br />Smiling brightly over me<br />Like the neon stars on a full moon night<br /><br />But it came and went<br />Or I thought so.<br />Like the time flickering by<br />But, the besotted I resolved<br />Until chance comes again,<br />I'll let my thoughts dance upon the wind.<br /><br />As I look<br />beyond the ripples of my reflections<br />to examine my inner self;<br />the ripples begin to fade<br />As the reflection lays beside me<br />grasping my hand<br />the vision of my reflection appears…<br />it has a name,<br />I think they call it friend<br />But I call it U! </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"> ~ET 2010</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;">P.S.: Friends Forever! :)</span></div>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-60498637000277387692010-10-16T07:52:00.000-07:002010-10-16T08:03:43.842-07:00Threads of time...Magpie#36<span style="font-size:85%;">Willow's </span><a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Magpie Tales</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> is bustling with poems on yet another interesting prompt:</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqGTFcPfG-Vki46Ui7OzmAI9uet0TBfCL6D-g8LtInuULDtadrNj8igDuTqlMNEZ9bvv-hI3yGBLxFUUvLCTDncWf4xmtyHMN0XQ1YiKCymQH4NrbQzTPVBzaJz0tkGpz-D0OeNABsWj0F/s1600/IMG_4848a.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 240px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528658528920342882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqGTFcPfG-Vki46Ui7OzmAI9uet0TBfCL6D-g8LtInuULDtadrNj8igDuTqlMNEZ9bvv-hI3yGBLxFUUvLCTDncWf4xmtyHMN0XQ1YiKCymQH4NrbQzTPVBzaJz0tkGpz-D0OeNABsWj0F/s320/IMG_4848a.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Fate plays a game without a score<br />bringing me back where I grew<br />Musing at the apron of loneliness<br />covering me, hovering over me<br />in a room once painted with memoirs<br />opening a window down memory lanes<br />joints cricking , reminiscence aching<br />dusting those sun-kissed<br />work hardened hands<br />brows wiggling against blinding<br />rays of my county’s sun.<br /><br />I see weeds sprouting despondently<br />worming a dried up backyard<br />where we rushed over fences<br />to catch the first carol every Christmas<br />where the castles in sandboxes<br />were the only known sands of time<br />when edgy rainy dull Sundays<br />stranded us in our rooms<br />waiting with noses against this window<br />chin upon clenched hands<br />sniffing running noses<br />spirits only soaring higher by the minute.<br /><br />I changed, aged, matured<br />but this place remains unaffected<br />I’ve grown wings, wrinkles<br />challenged, failed, bruised with time<br />stabilized which was a gamble then<br />when daring an enemy-clad sibling<br />was the only mission in tow<br />failure was getting a B in art<br />while that neighbor’s acing it<br />bruising meant a wounded knee<br />or a scraped elbow over sunset<br />times do flicker and people do differ<br />you realize smiling a little<br />that was then & this is now… </span><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">~ET/MD, 2010</span></p>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-22192420570316383482010-10-07T02:44:00.000-07:002010-10-07T02:54:58.849-07:00Magpie #35...<span style="font-size:85%;">Willow's </span><a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Magpie Tales</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> is up with a new prompt...Oh God! There comes a next one, in a blink of an eye!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFxFzX_woKvkQBkBQTUdJPBlhThfDYUYnboKk5y8HfEqahutHvriHAQ2dWQ2SAPcXYg-VOEvOHvnzpXHfDakpv0Da3TED2LDEXdu9fCKotHyHrmDO2aRpWYF3PKM1QKQLw0ixzvV_kZoMc/s1600/Magpie_Tales2.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525238547322685858" style="WIDTH: 262px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFxFzX_woKvkQBkBQTUdJPBlhThfDYUYnboKk5y8HfEqahutHvriHAQ2dWQ2SAPcXYg-VOEvOHvnzpXHfDakpv0Da3TED2LDEXdu9fCKotHyHrmDO2aRpWYF3PKM1QKQLw0ixzvV_kZoMc/s320/Magpie_Tales2.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I have two pieces for this: </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Take #1</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">“It’s amber or…hmph…may be chrome yellow” she said.<br /><br />“It’s dark yellow, I think”, he said.<br /><br />“There is nothing known as dark yellow”<br /><br />“Why is that? If you can have dark green or brown, what’s wrong with dark yellow?”<br /><br />“No! It could be <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Shades_of_yellow">Urobilin or Goldenrod</a>” her chin going up.<br /><br />“Ahh…could be what?” he gave a no-clue expression.<br /><br />“I said…”, then she looked up at the stranger beside her “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Shades_of_yellow">Urobilin?...Goldenrod</a>?” giving him a <em>duh</em> expression.<br /><br />He shrugged with a blank expression.<br /><br />“Let’s ask the artist. Who is it by the way? Do you know him?”<br /><br />Narrowing her eyes and searching for a name on the painting…<br />”It’s some Nick Tad”, he interrupted.<br /><br />“Ohh, do you know him?” she started scanning the room.<br /><br />He removed his hands from his pockets, uncurling them first; pressed his lips tightly.<br />Coughing “Hi, this is Nick Tad and it’s dark yellow”, he informed.<br /><br />Turning around, he left the room smiling; leaving behind a gaping <s>completely insulted</s> lassie. </span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">****</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Take #2</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Arid, dry they fall<br />without a din <br />along a calm breeze<br />waving, swinging<br />back and forth<br />beckoning autumn<br />blithely ardent<br />lay in a golden-stretch <br />those aged leaves.<br /><br />Churned, stomped<br />underneath a sadist being<br />they soar edgily<br />flinging dust<br />now making noise<br />summoning winter<br />sullenly somnolent<br />lay in a earthy-mellow<br />those aged leaves.<br /></div></span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-7522581308488383222010-10-01T02:56:00.000-07:002010-10-01T03:49:53.624-07:00Magpie #34...first for me!<div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">My first magpie on </span><a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Willow</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">'s prompt.</span></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJlf_oDq63HZCvgzzu82cQmHmr8NjnxtjYA_rjAE5NPTDTMiOso_QQ1sE7xbbq6lHZFnSY_QP5xgAUw0Mf-eDKi1xlopcSlwFDq9XG7ihXmQXxCWfffK4AfDqL_Tw2RPL4zBd2oJXOUSfu/s1600/Magpie_Tales1.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523019873535628370" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJlf_oDq63HZCvgzzu82cQmHmr8NjnxtjYA_rjAE5NPTDTMiOso_QQ1sE7xbbq6lHZFnSY_QP5xgAUw0Mf-eDKi1xlopcSlwFDq9XG7ihXmQXxCWfffK4AfDqL_Tw2RPL4zBd2oJXOUSfu/s320/Magpie_Tales1.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></div></span><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Solitary, wickless<br />you blew out my fire<br />i still burn<br />silly ceiling fan<br />you chipped my wick<br />maiden, naïve.<br /><br />You forgot<br />my metal still tepid<br />ashy tad hung in air<br />you overlook<br />the smudge I left<br />in the cold night.<br /><br />I stand tall<br />abut the pane<br />sunshine warming me<br />glowing<br />in myriad colors<br />no more lonely<br />no more gloomy.</span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-44094304221954829372010-09-28T06:27:00.000-07:002010-09-28T07:22:18.486-07:00Animated bus ride!<a href="http://crowd-pleasers.blogspot.com/2010/09/next-weeks-poetry-bus-back-to-old.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+RamblingWithRachelFox+%28More+about+the+song+-+rambling+with+Rachel+Fox%29"><span style="font-size:85%;">Rachel Fox</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> drives the poetry bus this week and she has given an interesting prompt for ride.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This is my ticket for the ride-</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Tom & Jerry<br /></strong><br />Roll n Spin, Spin n Roll<br />my eyes crawl along their trail<br />Hoping, jumping, chasing<br />Tom hunts Jerry, or<br />my hazy mind asks<br />is it Jerry hunting Tom?<br /><br />Jerry’s shrewd attempts<br />wrecking, stomping<br />Tom’s feline femme seductions,<br />unrelenting struggles<br />to slice, chomp Tom<br />or chipping his tail<br />under that waffle iron,<br />hitting him with mace, club, mallet<br />brings out <em>lion</em>-in-Tom.<br /><br />“<em>Cheese</em>” meows Tom,<br />clicks Jerry in gobbledygook trap,<br />stashing him between bread crumbs<br />sautés amid lettuces, creamy pottages<br />in peppery & salty layers.<br /><br />Loving & hating<br />they come to you<br />mind you!<br />they will saunter<br />in & out of one room<br />to other, then comes kitchen<br />followed by garden<br />two musketeers<br />will create mayhem<br />& humiliate laughing gasps<br />out of you.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-76505536579423855012010-09-23T00:10:00.000-07:002010-09-23T04:46:55.707-07:00A Special Dedication...<span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I wanted to dedicate this post to two close friends of mine. They did something really exceptional this week. They have been a great help ever since I have known them but some days are just indescribable (and I am doing my best to put it into words!). <em><strong>S </strong></em>& <em><strong>R</strong></em> this is for you.<br />Yes you and you! Sitting there, reading this with a smile on your face and amusement glittering in those eyes. I can see it! This one is for you buddy!<br /><br />What did they do, You ask? *with wide eyes*…Yeah?<br />Okay, so without further ado, I will dive straight into it.<br /><br />It was Ganesh Visarjan (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ganesh_Chaturthi">Departing of Lord Ganesha</a>, to those who do not know this tradition) and there was heavy traffic all over Pune. I left office to catch the office bus scheduled at 8 o’clock in the evening unaware of the severity of the situation outside. It hit me belatedly and smack on my senses that buses had not left since 6:00 pm. The last bus left at 5.15. Since then due to heavy traffic buses were stationed in the premises sound and safe. Me and my friend (a female colleague…ahh chuck it, <em><strong>M </strong></em>I am referring to you!) just like everybody else patiently started waiting outside our office premises. <em>Standing</em>. 9:00 o’clock went by, 9.30p.m became 9.45 p.m.<br /><br />My friends <strong><em>S </em></strong>and <strong><em>R </em></strong>(both guys) were worried about us because normally to reach my place it takes an hour. From where the bus drops me I have to walk for 15 mins. Going by the heavy traffic it was going to take more than 2.30 hrs to reach. So it was completely unsafe to be reaching and walking home after 12:00. These two guys come in shifts and have cabs at their disposal after every one hour. Normally they leave by 9.30p.m. Their cabs were ready to leave. <strong><em>S </em></strong>stays very much near my place but <strong><em>R</em></strong> goes in exactly opposite direction and it normally takes him more than 1.30 hrs to reach his place. So <em><strong>S</strong></em> after talking to me and hearing my panic-stricken voice, had a long discussion with <em><strong>R</strong></em> (as they put it), got down from his cab went to his cubicle got a temporary bus pass and rushed practically all the way from his cube to the bus at 9.50p.m. At around 10.00p.m finally the engines started reviving and buses were scheduled to leave.<br /><br /><strong><em>R</em></strong> wanted to accompany us, but he would have had to stay overnight at <strong><em>S</em></strong>’s place and he quite literally regretted for not making it.<br /><br />I reached my place just after midnight. <em><strong>S</strong></em> left me at my doorstep (!) and went home enjoying the walk at midnight. He says, “I should have some such walks. Middle of the night, with my mobile phone shrieking loud music in my ears, no one in sight, cold night, with just me and my thoughts.” Now how cool is this person?<br /><br />By the way, <strong><em>M</em></strong> got down before me and she had quite a few people to accompany her to her place. I, <em><strong>M</strong></em> & <strong><em>S</em></strong> had a time of life on that simple-late-night journey back home which we will never forget for many years to come, I am sure <strong><em>M</em></strong> and <em><strong>S</strong></em> agree. Instead of getting irritated by the bus-service, traffic and getting agitated we enjoyed the journey. We relished a big huge Cadbury (courtesy <strong><em>S</em></strong>), cracked jokes, sang, hooted, clapped, called <strong><em>R</em></strong> to give updates, encouraged others and basically lived in the moment!<br /><br />All things considered, all of us reached safely. Bless <strong><em>S</em></strong>, <em><strong>R </strong></em>& <strong><em>M</em></strong>! </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><strong><em>M </em></strong>you are a dear!And I respect you a lot for reasons known to me and me alone...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Thanks to <strong><em>S</em></strong> and <strong><em>R </em></strong>for being such caring kind friends. What you did was quite out-of-<em>the</em>-ordinary. I am glad I have friends like you :) </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I can’t seem to praise the three of you enough!<br /><br />Furthermore, I would like to mention the flock I hang with, they are really incomparable and diverse minds. They all have something special in them. Each one of them has carved a mark on their own and are just as special. So taking the occasion in hand, I would thank them all for being who they are. Knowingly or unknowingly you have made a difference.<br /><br />Cheers,<br />*clink*<br />MD/ET<br /><br /><em>P.S.: I would have liked to elaborate more on the last note, but I feel ya’ll deserve a separate dedicated post to describe each one of you in detail. When I start appreciating you all, I can’t seem to stop. So stay tuned, it’s in pipeline.</em></span>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-60254538336802735962010-09-20T07:26:00.000-07:002010-09-23T04:52:08.515-07:00A Naïve passenger for the poetry bus...<div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">I am Monstrously late for the bus this week. Argent is driving the bus </span><a href="http://argent-delusionsofadequacy.blogspot.com/2010/09/poetry-bus-dont-feed-pixies-challenge.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">here</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> for DFTP...DFTP asks us to write about non-denominational wedding, but at the same time insists not to be slushy,tacky,cheesy or mention any religion or God.Writing about a wedding and not to be slushy is tough, but when has been a poetry bus ride easy. I have no personal experience of this, so I am running late for the bus. This poem is written in a hurry to catch the bus. I am writing this based on my observation. I've been observing the most lovely couple i know- my parents for now 24 years and this is just a jist of it. </span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><div align="center"><br /><strong>My <s>not-so</s> fair life...</strong><br />26 years to search you<br />Just a lifetime to hold you<br /><br />Only a minute to kiss at I Do<br />A pout to say Will do<br /><br />A smile to submit to you<br />An innocent lie to say no cue<br /><br />A hug to coax me for work<br />An embrace to impede me leaving for work<br /><br /> A nudge to say speak up<br />A sideway glance to say shut up<br /><br />A sigh to convince me<br />A raised eyebrow to question me<br /><br />A punch to tell the truth<br />A peck to lie for you<br /><br />A glance to make me forget everything<br />A wink to pull at my heart </div><div align="center"><br />You are a pill for a miracle life</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">A jewel for a lovely wife!</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>P.S.: I have no clue how the other passengers managed to pull through this, but they did it smoothly.</em></span></div>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-39689063680911013992010-09-13T05:59:00.000-07:002010-09-23T04:45:14.348-07:00For the bus...<p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Heya all! I have been down with a terrible flu and couldnot hit this place for gosh(!) three whole weeks.And I missed two poetry busses and many wonderful reads. I will be catching up with all those pretty soon. Here's for one more striking poetry bus challenge given by Colorful Marion and she tells us to write on colors. <a href="http://dragonflyspoetryandprolixity.blogspot.com/">Here</a> you will find other passengers with their beautiful poems. :) Marion is influenced by yellow and it shows in her brilliant poem.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">This one from me:</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>White<br /></strong><br />I wonder which white<br /> -I am most fond of<br />Something in white<br />-ticks me off<br /><br /> Must be the silky white<br /> -of my wedding gown<br /> Or are those white tulips<br /> -from the neighboring town<br /><br /> It oughto be the white of<br /> -Christmas-stocking’s loaded sock<br /> It gotto be the white of<br /> -pearl under that shiny rock<br /><br /> Could be the milky white<br /> -toothy-grin of her baby<br /> Might be the white bear<br /> -in her musical lullaby<br /><br /> Oh is it the white jumpiness<br /> -to the road to altar<br /> Maybe the white fear when<br /> -caught puncturing a car<br /><br /> Yes it must be my gram’s<br /> -Salt-n-pepper bushy hair<br />Or is it my granny’s<br /> -buttercream-frosting’s share<br /><br /> Should be the twinkling white<br /> -spread of glittery stars<br /> It could be the white of<br /> -dappled moon’s attar<br /><br /> But mostly it’s idyllic moments<br /> -in every white<br /> Something that strums <br /> -in my heart so bright<br /> & right.</span></p><p align="center"></p>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-60067184722379185992010-08-22T23:56:00.000-07:002010-09-23T04:45:14.349-07:00On the bus...early morning!<p><span style="font-size:85%;">This week the po-tree bus is been driven by ever-enthusiastic </span><a href="http://logb-chiccoreal.blogspot.com/2010/08/chiccoreals-drivinon-poetry-bus.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">Chiccoreal</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">. She has given us three options and I have chosen the first option which says:</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">I want you to write a poem on the first thing that you think, see, feel, do, taste, etc.,POPS into your head BE IT THE DOUBLE DECKER ON THE POETRY BUS or BE IT A DAGWOOD DOUBLE DECKER SANDWICH IN THE MORNING ABSOLUTELY THE FIRST THING IN THE MORNING!!! be honest! I MEAN THE FIRST THING YOU DO IN THE A.M. ABSOLUTELY THE FIRST THING!!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">I am being absolutely, truly honest about the first thought that crossed my mind first thing today morning ( Guess that is what I think first thing every morning)</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Morning Blues</strong></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">When morning<br />dawns new beginning<br />when sunrise<br />breaks between two nights<br />Tangled in the sheets<br />freezing from the sleets<br />reliving the night<br />rendezvous under moonlight<br />I wake up, look at you<br />blank without a cue<br />hear you sing<br />merry old ding<br />munching on remnant sleep<br />canonized recitals<br />cajoling my siesta<br />humming in my ears<br />searching you with languid hands<br />eager for the contact<br />agitation vivid in my eyes<br />scratching my head<br />I finally holler mutely<br /><em>Where is that danged stop button<br />on this alarm clock?<br /></em><br />I stare blankly<br />time ticking away<br />cursing the unknown<br />fully awake<br />charged for the challenge<br />called--<em>today</em>.</span></p>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-15141212767635689692010-08-16T00:35:00.000-07:002020-05-14T00:07:35.709-07:00Onboard-Poetry bus!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 85%;">An Inspirational writer, </span><a href="http://chrisalba-enchantedoak.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 85%;">Enchanted Oak</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 85%;"> (Chris Alba) is driving the poetry bus engineered by superb writer </span><a href="http://totalfeckineejit.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 85%;">Totalfeckineejit</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 85%;">. Chris has given us two age-old pics as the prompt and this is my entry for the ticket. Please visit Chris's blog for reading the different versions of these pics putforth by wonderful fellow passengers.</span></div>
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<strong>Drifting Reality!</strong></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">-</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: start;">Blue fingers, cold hands</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">itching to be set free<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">tight binds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">breaking me from inside<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">suffocating, harrowing me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">aimless, helpless, powerless<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">coming to my senses<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">whacked on head<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-33708362169603925612010-08-15T20:26:00.000-07:002010-09-23T04:53:32.275-07:00Wishes!<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">A belated <strong>Happy Independence to all my fellow Indians</strong>. Belated because, I had no net access yesterday :( but I wrote this yesterday(I swear!) and I'm posting it first thing today morning!</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">To my mom's surprise I was up early yesterday(At 6.00 am)! I went for a morning walk; saw kids going patriotic;flags being hoisted at various places. Oh I got nostalgic.I remembered my school days. I used to be in the singing group; the entire school listening to us while the flag was being hoisted. *sigh* miss those days...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Everywhere the rich tricolour was making it's mark and I just loved looking at it! It was a beautiful morning! :)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">So here's wishing ya'll a Super Independence Day...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Enjoy the freedom...Be Good..Be Nice..Be Harmless!</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">I m trying my hands on writing a Haiku# </span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Independence is</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">when chains transform into silken strings-</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">'You' becomes a second self.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">(Taking Inspiration from Dave:) )</span></div>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-86548380357613444362010-08-08T22:48:00.000-07:002010-09-23T04:45:14.350-07:00Catching the bus...<p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">HAPPY BIRTHDAY Jeanne!!!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><a href="http://revolutionaryrevelry.blogspot.com/2010/08/poetry-bus-august-9-mid-summer-magic.html" target="_blank"><strong>Jeanne Iris</strong></a><strong> </strong>the birthday girl is driving the poetry bus this time on a very short notice.She has given us three options for this week. One is flash Fiction on Mid-summer memories and I am trying my hands on that...(This person is Somebody's Somebody...It was narrated to me one summer) Tough one but very inspirational.Some summers are not that playful, I realized it that day.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><strong>*********</strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><strong>Chase...</strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">For the past one hour he was on the run, well aware that he had crossed the <em>line</em>.<br /><em>But this is needed</em>, he assured himself.<br /><br />They had just won the peak ZZ2 and he had been instructed to distract the militia.<br />Hungry Alsatians snarling and yapping behind him; men following them.<br />He was running out of his breath keeping this charade.<br /><br /><em>Oh shut up you idiots! You are making me nervous.</em> He silently cursed those barking dogs.<br /><em>Which way next Jeff? Where next? There is a ravine about 2kms from here and this way I will have to scuttle more and I might end up dead early. No use; can’t go this way; I have to take the ravine.</em><br /><br />He started sliding downstream, towards the ravine.<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Yes this is the right one. This will take longer time for search.<br />Ha! Longer time, it’ll take an entire night.</em><br /><br />He edged nearer to the ravine.<br /></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Now what?Jump down just like that?Nah…<br /></em>He turned around and back again. <em>You won’t have me that easily.<br /></em><br />There was a tree at the edge of the ravine, with a foot’s distance between them. He ducked behind it and wrapped a big boulder with his blood smeared jacket and sent it rolling down the other side into the ravine.<br /></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Ha, gotcha…Now keep tracking me you hounds…<br /></em><br />The Alsatians got confused. They could smell him in the ravine and along the edge upto the tree.<br />For a split second he leaned on the tree behind him, rested his head, closed his eyes and caught-up with his breath. He heard a rustling noise from the nearby bush. His alert mind missed a beat. It was a hare, but a terrified one. They stared at each other. He realized and looked down; he was standing on a rabbit hole. He stared back at the hare. What a melancholy? Both of them could not move. He wanted to buy time and the hare could have been a meal to those frustrated Berger Allemands. <em>But at least one could survive.</em><br /><br />One wrong move and it would all end. He moved his foot forward…<br />Furthermore…<br />...<br />Now on the edge…<br />...<br />Little more…<br />...<br />A second passed…<br />...<br />And he slipped…<br />...<br /></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Into black awareness…<br />Into Time…<br />Under the epitaph in front of me…</em><br /><br />As I looked on, I saw a hare climbing the grave stone. Clutched in his mouth was a daffodil still dripped in the morning dew. He placed it besides my fresh roses and nuzzled it.<br /><br />We looked at each other and connected on an unknown level…<br />He bequeathed his life and love to us. We are in his debt for life.<br /><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>“ What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.”<br />~Pericles</em> </span></span></p>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-82541429061561175782010-08-06T02:48:00.000-07:002010-08-06T05:34:47.026-07:00Realizations<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">I have been hitting this place only on Mondays these days.Thanks to the poetry bus (and shame on me!). Well, so I tried writing some. Nothing special, just a popcorn read, but may be worth it. I'm following "Keep writing" practice...</span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">~~~~~</span></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnAM3OazuPNiY-iL8UVl2mDkn623KStcXkBxy7goA59kNfgTjn7QnObz_9y6AIPsf-_87VNWasNouEglLGnm-jQ-BU0zOnzt6U7ZhhSeHi8nOfzkBUZ_kLpWR51iIUdUWLNy_ZjJAAxVpq/s1600/CampsBaySunset.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502236787047931778" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnAM3OazuPNiY-iL8UVl2mDkn623KStcXkBxy7goA59kNfgTjn7QnObz_9y6AIPsf-_87VNWasNouEglLGnm-jQ-BU0zOnzt6U7ZhhSeHi8nOfzkBUZ_kLpWR51iIUdUWLNy_ZjJAAxVpq/s320/CampsBaySunset.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">~An incredible sunset that was mistaken for a shady dawn.<br /></span></div><p></p><br /><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">“Do you remember the last time we came here?” she asked.<br />“’naw, but it’s been a long while” he said.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">She looked at him and back again.<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>Sun was setting in…<br /></em>But there was still some hope. <em>Wishful thinking</em>.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">“So why are we here?”<br />“I was home alone. Wanted to be somewhere. With someone.”<br />“Why me?” she asked sending up a silent prayer.<br />“Why not you?”<br /></span>She frowned.<br /><em>Where was this wordplay going?<br /></em>Silence settled between them.<br /><br />“Will you believe me if I say there was a reason I could not speak to you for the past one year?” he broke the screeching silence.<br />“If you explain” she said.<br />He thought for a while and said “I have got something for you.”<br />He removed a book from his bag. It was a John Greg book <em>My Confessions</em>.<br />John Greg had been writing a wonderful column in the daily News High and was getting a lot of readers. His column was in huge demand.<br /><br /><em>Wait! John Greg was going to release his first book on the morrow.</em><br /><br />She enquired hastily, “How did you get this copy? It’s going to hit the stores tomorrow. It’s going to be released tomorrow…”<br />“By the author? I know” he completed.<br />She was stunned. Warning bells banging in her head.<br /><br />“Don’t look at me like that.”<br />“Somebody might sue you, do you know that?” she cried.<br />He sighed and said, “This is author’s personal draft copy and he wants to dedicate it to…you!”<br /><br />Her eyes widened. She screamed, “What? Do you mean <em>You.Are.The.John.Greg</em>?”<br />“Yep! That’s me.”<br />He smiled at the myriad of expressions on her face.<br />She repeated, “<em>You.Are.The.John.Greg</em>.”<br />“Look, the fact is not going to change. Do you want it or not?”<br />“Like hell, Yes!”<br />She grabbed the copy and hugged him tightly.<br /><br /><br /><em>Serenity of the bright moonlit night settled…</em><br /><br /></span></p>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-90659733069890829402010-08-03T00:23:00.000-07:002010-09-23T04:45:14.350-07:00Verification Poem<span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">I'm very very late to catch the poetry bus this time, n I'm not sure a ticket is still available for me!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The poetry bus, started by </span><a href="http://totalfeckineejit.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">TotalFeckinEejit</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, driven by the ever-intelligent sciencegirl <a href="http://sciencegirltraveler.blogspot.com/2010/07/bus-stops-here.html">NanU</a>, wants us to write a poem on:</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">We are all familiar with those wiggly almost-words used to verify that a blogger leaving a comment is in fact an actual blogger and not a machine. Yes. Those words are your mission. Collect them this week. Pick your favorite, or several, and include it/them in your poem.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Verification words that I have used are: Mupin, Taire, Spome, haily.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Here goes my poem:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><strong>Toddler Bites<br /></strong>That l’il toddler next door<br />Has a funny little lingo<br />Uttering his first-words<br />is the mighty flamingo .<br /><br />Wants’ a sugary <em>Mupin</em>(muffin)<br />dipped in sweet jammy<br />wrinkles his bunny-nose<br />when it gets all clammy .<br /><br />Sitting on the <em>Taire</em>(Stair)<br />on my corbie-step<br />babbles out my name<br />and I know a prank is in prep.<br /><br />Cereal in his <em>Spome</em>(Spoon)<br />Lobs them on floor<br />Cajoles his mamma<br />with a giggly implore.<br /><br />Sleeps at the tick of nine<br />Tucked with a <em>haily</em>(hairy) bear<br />To a bed-time story<br />of a wary mare.<br /><br />Dreams of a housie-mousey<br />wakes with a weepy uproar<br />such an innocent pirate<br />is the l’il toddler next door </span>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-2948880403133321242010-07-26T03:00:00.000-07:002010-09-23T04:45:14.350-07:00Some comical moments- for a ticket to poetry bus<span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Niamh B is the poetry bus driver this week. She tells us to write something on confusion see </span><a href="http://variouscushions.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">here</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">...</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">Ohh she has written one beautiful poem herself...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">This is my entry for buying a ticket. This has really happened, so it's no invention.As I think about it now, I can't stop laughing. Good god! For the life of me, when you are sleepy, go and sleep instead of doing such antic things at night.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Confusion was writ large<br />as I saw an admiral’s barge<br />that seemed like a sergeant’s targe.<br />‘twas some work of art<br />with a spray of mossy colors<br />melting into that one street light<br />on a full moon night.<br />As I looked on thinking<br />bewilderment pasted on my face<br />little portrait budged.<br />My heart took a sudden leap<br />cause it was a man asleep<br />on a wooden wheel cart<br />abut a painted wall<br />beneath a tree tall.<br />Scurrying into my room<br />took a deep long breath<br />burst into a roaring chortle<br />on my murky vision<br />or on my sleepy conclusion. </span>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-76011855575903745102010-07-17T23:57:00.001-07:002010-09-23T04:53:12.325-07:00Week's Poetry Challenge<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Argent the Super Poetry bus driver of the week has set a challenge Tunnel of (unrequited) Love/Excursion to the Comedy Store</span></span> <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong style="font-weight: normal;"></strong></span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://argent-delusionsofadequacy.blogspot.com/">Check here</a><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">This is my entry as I hop on to the bus...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> He said </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;" >I Do</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> It was not for me</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> He said </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;" >love you</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Empathy whispered it’s not true</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> One bridesmaid was I</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Was happy or was it a lie</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> She was my friend for life</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> He was the reason of my life</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Elegant, neat he had a black bow tie</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> I chided and suppressed a sigh</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Lavenders and tulips blossomed all around</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Colors got lost, smile faded, grief profound</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Toasts raised, cake cut served with sweet pies</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> He was oblivious of the love floating in my eyes</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Shattered, I felt like a loner on seashore</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Well, there goes one more</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Searching & screening the ecstatic crowd</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> I saw many peas in the same pod</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Sailing in the ship of </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;" >Just Dumped</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">, oh god</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Cracked open a bottle, I sipped & slurped</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Got drunk and waved</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> That free beer that cost my heart</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Tell you what, finding a guy is an art</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Snickering, </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;" >Here I come</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">, I said aloud </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Winking I dived in to the crowd.</span></span>Erratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3553978600793002103.post-29906643900147293852010-07-17T08:20:00.001-07:002010-07-18T22:46:22.724-07:00"The Poetry Bus Challenge!", by DominicOkay! So I m trying my hands on Dominic's assignment n hopping on the poetry bus for the first time...This was a bit difficult...n i suppose m the last one to hop on...<br /><br />But just about the background..I would suggest don't try this at home, i literally landed up getting screwed...<br />I was about to write on my mom's handbag, but my sanity saved me on time...Do all writers go in a trance when something comes up in their mind?<br />I hope not...<br /><br />I wrote it on a plastic carry bag...*phew*<br />It does come handy sometimes...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYvoY6RKCCi2Oh9dDcQa91AzO-4jdG6r6zc6ni7h-Zu3fqYEM-nb4eVatyYkKRdZoZUYYuWH-qHv02d-ZQ-lmmlRvn2lIgZxKJvpOh70nbdSmNkvuW9gVKChRZeKuzV6fStZz1HJRhLpss/s1600/Photo0157.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYvoY6RKCCi2Oh9dDcQa91AzO-4jdG6r6zc6ni7h-Zu3fqYEM-nb4eVatyYkKRdZoZUYYuWH-qHv02d-ZQ-lmmlRvn2lIgZxKJvpOh70nbdSmNkvuW9gVKChRZeKuzV6fStZz1HJRhLpss/s320/Photo0157.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494895690160535394" /></a><br /><br />I know it is not legible, so i'll decipher it for you<br /><br />:: Features so sharp, blunt is the built...<br /> Press it & tips tilt...<br /> Ideas clack when it's put on paper...<br /> Runs wild when ends taper..<br /> ~ A PencilErratic Thoughtshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14852558150033296079noreply@blogger.com4