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Just me and the color blue.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

The Tempest of the Clouds

Have you noticed how the clouds tell a story?
On a sunny day it brings upon a glory
of a fun filled day..
Pockets of wisdom seen surreal
If you care to read it..
It seems to pass by
a giant in the sky
quiet in its passing
with a quirky eye..

On a rainy day it coaxes
waters genteel or is cushioned by blights of thunder..
The Genteel a submission of
winds of patience and in escalation
the rage of the tempest rapids..

Monday, November 28, 2011

In pursuit of the perfect blend of recipes

Have you ever thought of cooking as a subject..in that I mean you learn of the culinary skills and master the art of perfection in presenting the work of your hands - like the potter's clay, moulded into the end product of your choice? Cooking has always been for the survival of reliquishing hunger pangs - the ingredients somehow highlighting the means of Man. The poor have a certain recipe as do the rich.
And speaking of recipes - I wonder what the recipe of a blend of cultures and tradition would entail sometimes. Would that Man see the differences or hold on to the notion that one is above the other? I can see in a distant future that the voyage of appreciating the differences will garner a new revolution - one which sees our children emulating and a mixed product of awareness and intelligence taking shape. Right now it is in progress - a little slowly but indocrination of cross culture is on the rise and with that perhaps a new generation of another race. What would you call this race? This new breed of mixed parentages? In normal circumstances the father's race and name is carried on to the next generation and why is that so? What of the mother's standing?
A mother stands to look after a child purely due to her motherly capabilities and instincts when a turmoil arises in a union so since she is allocated a heavy responsibility in nurturing the young with her brand of recipe, I think she should be given her rightful place as the race provider - what say?
Being of a certain race and parentage is an important aspect in the conjoining of Men and Women of this time - wouldn't you say? Each carries forward either a geneology of the old or spring upon us a new genre of race and religion. Religion - depending on the presumed superiority of it.
I for one think that religion is a peaceful divine interlocking of soul within oneself.
For the mockery that Man has made of it, there is so much division today.

I wonder at those who sit at cookery classes jotting down the recipes..coming out as masterchefs - their eventual dream. How perfect it is to perfect a recipe with different ingredients and get the ultimate concoction. The taste being the qualifier. So much like the society we live in. If only we see the need for seeking the recipe to unity. Unity seen through our differences. The qualifier here would be our children who stands to gain what we plant in their minds and be the children of the future.

And so here's me , wishing all of you a great week ahead..the road to harness unity should begin with you and me and so here's a tip to unity...and a great future for our children - may freedom of mind, heart, body and soul be theirs.


Thursday, November 24, 2011

The wisdom of the oyster shells

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they be withered
- Wisdom of Solomon..

The pearls lay scattered in the crystal clear waters
Abeach lay the shells of oysters alive of past..
She picks them with nimble fingers
The transculence of the pearls glittering in the sun..

A basket lay by her side
cushioned by rosebuds and baby breath of white..
Her lips the color of scarlet with rushes
of shy smiles emerging
every now and then as she whispers
in loud sighs..

The beauty of the pearls lay in the
wisdom of the shells
When cushioned by rosebuds
they breathe an aura of
wine induced drunkedness..

A bride's ensemble of
pearly white jewels befitting
her day is never
quite complete without
rosebud lips and bouquet witheld
to her bosom.


Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Of time capsules and getting there..

So I thought I would do a little rambling today - just to get things off my chest for a bit..
I saw a little time capsule in my mind - it went tick tock, tick tock..telling me that for some reason there was a time limit for some of the things that were happening to me - invariably un-understandable I suppose to many of you reading this..
For a limited edition of maybe 20 books I could list it in a paper back cover and sell it for maybe 19.90 ringgit - I wonder if that would make a sale. Thoughts of the famous already are always in demand and here I am wondering how in the world I could get on the famous side!! Just to get my book sold that is..
So here is the thing - I would pretty myself up (that's because looks can get you places these days)  get into some serious business of writing prophecies or maybe even a bit of gossip mingled with half truths and that reminds me during Sunday mass last Sunday - the priest was very adamant that half truths were lies - Gosh caught me there..I mean how can I sometimes get away from things that I want hidden. I sometimes think my religion expects quite a bit from me. Then there is forgiveness! I mean how can I forgive if I really feel that one should not be forgiven and would it really matter to Jesus if he sees a little bit of envy and half-truths (to cover myself that is) and hidden agenda in the way I do things sometimes. Well, I am a good person overall - I know that for sure and shouldn't that be the bottom line? Did I kill someone - no don't think so which brings me to the question - Do you know what killing really means? Killing in the common dictionary must maybe attain for the action induced to finality of life but here I mean it in the sense of destroying a person's inhibitions, character or just erasing him/her from my memory bank.
Why erasing from my memory bank? That is an interesting question? Maybe there is a justification in that he/she would have probably hurt me MUCH so there -  instead of me forgiving them - I just erase them from my mind and deal with them perhaps on the day of judgement..:)
Life is a bit queer sometimes.. At varied ages you have different incidences that take place - like a phase you have to go through. First childhood, then adolescence and then adulthood but even in the adulthood you see a child and an adolescent in you don't you? So then adulthood constitutes an age of the barrierless. Childhood sees a growth that is step by step in essence, adolescence sees an age between the adult kicking in and a twist of childhood flavor and then we step into adulthood and there we are stuck till death do us part..
So then this got me thinking where am I at this stage of my life - probably at the foot of my next birthday - one step in and another hanging in mid-air just wishing to take a backward stride and get away from the age factor in numbers. Do I look the age I am at now - God No!! or that is what I would like to think - who cares what the onlookers say. I remember having a conversation with my mom and sisters about our looks and mom commented that I look the same as before - (mom - what did you mean by before? Was it when I was twenty something perhaps?)I tried dangling it in front of the mirror but it said otherwise..Gee, mothers- they will say anything sometimes just to make you feel good!!
My daughter thinks I look somewhat a little older now just because I don't do the gym stuff which gets me thinking why have a great body when you face is a dead giveaway or should'nt I think that? I was asked by someone to stay the same in looks till I am seventy .. isn't that something? I cannot envisage that as I remember at 20 I thought 40 was old and told myself that I should be dead at the age just so I would not get into the old age thingy. Gosh - young thoughts can be let down sometimes when you don't get it happening the way you want it to..
Anyway, my time capsule just ticked a goodbye note and here's me wishing all of you a great week ahead, the times are anear for advent and its the season to be merry so smile and let the world smile with you..


Monday, November 21, 2011

Riddled Love

They stood looking at each other
the breeze upon their soul
Washing the tides of love
over their silent shores..

They kiss..
the tingles awash them
Caught in an embrace..
their arms their link to bliss
for the mirror of their image
sets two hearts on fire...

They dance the dance of love
where the rush of blood
shatter submerged emotions
caught between two souls..

Alone in a busy world
they chance the quiet
of their riddled love..
One heart bound by two
Two lovers
with the words "I Love you" 


Wednesday, November 16, 2011

When You Frey Destiny

What is the most powerful thought that can lead you to your destiny?

For a far thought took her away
to the time of near yesterday..
for what might that yester be
but  oft times a day that's past with might have been
which brings the question of why its near
for the miss she had of chanced scrutiny..

For the near that's nearly been
of the yesterday that's what it should have seen
For just as a single flower blooms
from a bud and springs onto a groomed
A powerful thought can
frey fate and welcome destiny

The most powerful thought that can lead
one into destiny 
is the courage to face fate 
and chance the state
of ambitious scrutiny..-shobana- 

Sunday, November 13, 2011

The End of a Chapter

tonight one of many nights
a tender invitation rose
from lips so bright..

write me a poem..
write me a prose
tell me a story
I ask of you I pray..

The poet sat in constenation
for his face a blank page
his thoughts a penned foray
inscribing in feathered ink
a little poem of sorts..

"there in a little stellar
stood a tall table of wood
mahogany perhaps
its make
catching the sunlight
from a roofless brickhouse
red its color
the clouds an astute white

Silence beckoning
as the leaves rush is heard
the bugle at a distance sounds the call
Marching ahead  men of war
stood upright
The fight for freedom
tilled in each one..

The table a possession of a man
of much wisdom,
the clouds played witness
as he stroked his end of a chapter
of the bloodless relation between
the pen and its victor

The pen an aide
to a bloodless war for freedom
seldom used thus
as compared to weapons of mass destruction


Saturday, November 12, 2011

The Island of Langkawi

Mesmerizing I say when I watch
the way
The sun mingles with the rays
showing its reflective signs in
sensational shades of wonder

Mountaineous sighs are heard
within the rush of sea waters.
The rush for precedence in a world
of color..
Shades of whispers are heard
when salted waters coincide
with the sands beached
in a shy corner..

Surreal, mesmerizing, breathtaking
the mountains stand witness
to this island in the northern zone
of Malaysia

The folklore of
Mahsuri where once a curse
of seven generation befell
a legend foretold..

The Island of Langkawi
encompassed by its nocturnal splendour..

Written for someone special who requested that I write this poem after his visit to the Island.


Wednesday, November 9, 2011

One of Might, The other Assault

Of the Roman Empire did they represent
Where men and slaves wore
garments that differ
one of might
the other assault..

Women and wine after
the fight of their ruse
worn on sleeves of desire..
Laughing, mingling in a distaste
of drunken stupor.
For their men did the women labor 
For the love of their Gods
did they stand surmounting pressure...

Beckoned by the nuances of God given splendour
The hills remained in a green blanket of cover
and the valleys contained in a blue cascade
of water...

Of Rome did an emperor build a tower
Of cities captured and enslaved did victory march a hither..

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

The Curse

Brazen in her outlook
she wore a face with a mask..
Silence in her thoughts and averbal in her words,
her mind a simple structure of
 a stolen repertoire..

In the coldness of the darkened side
she is beseeched by the cult of the night breeders..
Taken by her beauty and consuming her
Torching her by their evil thoughts
of molten lustiness of sinful ways..
The fires of hell consuming them
and licking their inveterbrae..
Drowning them of night screeches
that fuel their dreadful summons
by the summoners of hellish device..

Dread, dismay and discord
follow the masses who empower her
fighting a battle to salvage her without scorn..
The scorn of the devil..

Fearful she remains as she fights
 the demons..
Cursed for the love she begot,
Cursed by the wicked..
Her walk into the unknown darkness
a curse she's been waylaid..

Monday, November 7, 2011

The Jar of Sushi

So there were two little bitty birds
Who sat in a little corner
called the bird alley..

One by one they caught
little worms and put them away
for a winter drought upcoming..

Days passed and they ticked their calender
made of twigs and little dried leaves...
their worms stored in a container
called the jar of sushi...

One morning as they sat whistling
a little squirrel climbed their alley..
A little jumpy the squirrel made
it to their throne of twig leaves..

Sniff, sniff it went and the birds
were perched on a nearby branch
watching and sharpening their beaks..

One thought I'll poke it
the other I will screech at it..
The squirrel though found the jar of sushi
and thought "Gee what rubbish! and I
climbed way up here and am just so famished"

Its tail in between the squirrel
made the way down - way down where
the ground was..
Jump, jumpy, jump, jumpy
and so it touched base...

The birds whistled a littled louder
and clapped their wings in a banter
of squeamish delight that
sounded like a whistle that went out of rhyme..

The squirrel they thought had the
nerve of steel to come jumping into their alley,
not knowing that when you jump into
the unknown you best be prepared..
or hunger will trail you
till you
touch base with dead rats..


Thursday, November 3, 2011

All of Love

All of love is an altruism
of which stands the foundation
of unliving a life of a despot..shobana

She gathers her papers together one day
some of which flew from the tableau of her composition..
On the floor they remain unnumbered
the loss of one - a loss of a tale
nay mayhaps a yearning of a poet
in a shamble of the poems he composes
in his mind a picture
in words a distortion at times
of his thinking...

All of love is a written pictured telling
acted out in different varied poses
or relied upon by the mindful
of its importance..shobana

Goddess of Song

My Poem "Goddess of Song" was accepted and published in the February 2018 issue of the Enchanted Conversation Magazine :- Read...