I Want.
To meander randomly, stroll quietly, write with a purposeless purpose; let words have their way, pleasure me, I say.
A Smile..
The little wordy handkerchiefs of grief are dry, crackling with starch and ironed but they blow now in the wind, freely moving voile. Sometimes they have a stiff upper lip, these words, I want to nudge them then into a gently gliding smile.Make love to me, molten liquid words, kiss me wet and linger, words don’t you abandon me, ever.
Don’t be shy.
Open me up to the world, take me to its delightful heights or then bring the world to me; I promise you won’t be disappointed. I’ll give you lacy words; I’ll give you silky solace, words don’t you leave me, ever.
Stay.
By the day, down meandering lanes, where breathy life shelters in cafes; sit with me awhile as I tuck you into my paper, capture you forever in inky blots on napkins with spring Daffodil sketches as the filtered aroma of a creamy cappuccino wafts sighing up to us.
I promise.
I’ll bed you by the night; take you to dreamscapes where I paint passion with a luminous brush and whisper wordy iridiscence. Lets tuck ourselves in, lost in each other as the room rises and falls with us with its smiling walls lustily cocooning us and the windows lower their eyes in innocence.
Words.
Be my love.
Forever.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Monday, March 28, 2005
Observation
What would our friend Sisyphus do
if someone stole his precious rock?
My guess is he would continue
his usual uphill and downhill walk
I see him push back his unruly hair
as I walk endlessly, aimlessly, alone.
I press my palms against invisible air
Sisyphus, at least, has his trusty stone.
if someone stole his precious rock?
My guess is he would continue
his usual uphill and downhill walk
I see him push back his unruly hair
as I walk endlessly, aimlessly, alone.
I press my palms against invisible air
Sisyphus, at least, has his trusty stone.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
A Rebel in Love
Silence galore….
In a chaste ridden testament
I hear the deafening shriek of a pharaoh
If only the devil within
Could be the devil without
May be I’ll appreciate then
The lilies that sprout
In your secret garden
That remains for me forbidden.
All one cares is a smile
That perhaps for a while
Will give a break
From this soporific life,
From the unceasing karma,
From the drudgery we huff ‘n’ puff
And in a strange twist
Call off this karmic bluff.
Darkness galore….
In stories scribed on parchments
I see the falsity in which men wallow
© Dan Husain
3rd February 2002
In a chaste ridden testament
I hear the deafening shriek of a pharaoh
If only the devil within
Could be the devil without
May be I’ll appreciate then
The lilies that sprout
In your secret garden
That remains for me forbidden.
All one cares is a smile
That perhaps for a while
Will give a break
From this soporific life,
From the unceasing karma,
From the drudgery we huff ‘n’ puff
And in a strange twist
Call off this karmic bluff.
Darkness galore….
In stories scribed on parchments
I see the falsity in which men wallow
© Dan Husain
3rd February 2002
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Friday, March 25, 2005
For the benefit of termites
For the Benefit of Termites
it is in the nature of woodwork
to remain fragile, tender chlorophyll
could not have said it better
while feeding the leaves of grass;
slow decay is how it happens, eats
from the inside and crumbles
the inner resolve
like words that scar
and wound the soul
obliterating the man
completely
(c) 2002 Ashish Gorde
it is in the nature of woodwork
to remain fragile, tender chlorophyll
could not have said it better
while feeding the leaves of grass;
slow decay is how it happens, eats
from the inside and crumbles
the inner resolve
like words that scar
and wound the soul
obliterating the man
completely
(c) 2002 Ashish Gorde
I am
I am a fragile clay pot
easily molded
easily broken....
Handle me with care for
I have a soul within
brimming with wisdom and love....
easily molded
easily broken....
Handle me with care for
I have a soul within
brimming with wisdom and love....
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Nightmares
This dream had sharper edges,
it sliced, nicked and burned.
Jarringly lucid, unmistakably direct,
inflicting raw scars of lessons learned,
demanding wakeful pledges.
Pointing scaly talons at the soul,
death-masked faces,
cloaked in gloom,
cackled in reedy, screechy voices,
warning against entering the room,
of indulgent distractions; the only goal.
Morning’s pledge of mended ways,
fleetingly burdened a tense brow;
scattering, shattering as the body rose.
Trampled over, discarded, dormant for now,
Glinting heads of Hydra, in menacing arrays.
it sliced, nicked and burned.
Jarringly lucid, unmistakably direct,
inflicting raw scars of lessons learned,
demanding wakeful pledges.
Pointing scaly talons at the soul,
death-masked faces,
cloaked in gloom,
cackled in reedy, screechy voices,
warning against entering the room,
of indulgent distractions; the only goal.
Morning’s pledge of mended ways,
fleetingly burdened a tense brow;
scattering, shattering as the body rose.
Trampled over, discarded, dormant for now,
Glinting heads of Hydra, in menacing arrays.
The Cave-in...
The Cave-in: I
He was coming home after long.
In his heart
Floated lovely strains
Of their tender,
Very own love-song.
He skipped and hopped
And reached his 7th floor.
Fished out the key quick
To open the door.
And, there she was
On their bed.
Blazing beautiful in her charms
Peacefully propped –
In his best friend’s arms.
The Cave-in: II
The footsteps woke her up.
She looked up at him -
Into his eyes.
Searching.
He looked back
Absolutely blank.
No anguish, no cries.
Moments hung
Silence lay suspended.
She looked up to him
And then her beau.
He took in her look
And, turned away -
Leaving behind the stillness
To quietly bid adieu.
He was coming home after long.
In his heart
Floated lovely strains
Of their tender,
Very own love-song.
He skipped and hopped
And reached his 7th floor.
Fished out the key quick
To open the door.
And, there she was
On their bed.
Blazing beautiful in her charms
Peacefully propped –
In his best friend’s arms.
The Cave-in: II
The footsteps woke her up.
She looked up at him -
Into his eyes.
Searching.
He looked back
Absolutely blank.
No anguish, no cries.
Moments hung
Silence lay suspended.
She looked up to him
And then her beau.
He took in her look
And, turned away -
Leaving behind the stillness
To quietly bid adieu.
A Dreary March 23rd, 2005
Our front door is the least used door in the house. There are no finger stains around the doorknob and the paint is as fresh as the day the door got attached to its frame. This door never gets used because in this country we rarely have unexpected visitors or friendly neighbors stopping by for casual chit-chat. Even if they did they won’t ever find anyone home. The expected visitors, friends and family always enter through the garage door.
The other reason we forget, at times, that we have a front door, is the blanket of snow that carpets the walkway leading away from the door. It covers it all, the flower beds on the sides, our lawn, our driveway. We usually just hop into the garage, press the button that operates the garage door and drive out. Until last week.
It felt like spring. Every last bit of snow had melted away. That feeling of rejuvenation and regeneration was in the air. I looked out my bay windows and saw little yellow tulip buds bursting out of our little flower patch. I yelled out to my near and dear ones, “Hey! Spring is here! C’mon out you guys!” So after four long months we finally unlocked our front door and took a few tentative steps outside, looking for buds on the cherry tree and other signs of baby greens. We ambled around, drinking in the balminess, feeling so refreshed. The rest of the day was pleasant, spirits high.
Fast forward 24 hours. Misery! Utter misery. It snowed all day. Looking out the window of my 16th floor office, my quasi-home, I felt teary-eyed as I watched the large snow-flakes falling and slowly carpeting the streets of New York. It was a nasty, wet snow. People on the streets had their useless umbrellas out, the high winds had whipped most umbrellas inside-out and the folks attached to the umbrellas appeared as though they were about to pull a “Mary Poppins” act! This after the first day of spring, the vernal equinox! I felt physically assaulted by this most unwelcome return of the white, slippery, icy stuff. I COULDN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!
My bus left the terminal at 4:00 PM and crept along at the sedate pace of 5 mph. I fitfully dozed and read as the bus crept home, the wheels grinding ice below. Several overturned cars, flashing police lights and jack-knifed tractor-trailers later it finally pulled into the “park & ride” where I usually leave my car. My nightmare wasn’t over yet. I still had to clean the six inch accumulation of snow off my windshield and rear windows and then had to plan the best ice-driving strategy for my drive back home.
I got to work on my car as the ice pellets bruised my face. I tried to brush all the accumulated and partially frozen snow off my car at a pace faster than the rate of the falling snow.
Earlier in the day I had had this lengthy conversation, on a writers’ forum, about “Eve” being in “chains”! It kept replaying in my head as I performed this extremely strenuous task, formerly the exclusive domain of Adam. Where was my Adam? I also thought of the various enchained Eves I knew here in the US, who never learnt how to drive, or how to gas up their cars, or how to fill basic forms, or travel alone, who were completely paralyzed in the absence of their Adams! Perhaps they had the right idea. Who wants to shovel snow or drive alone in an ice storm!
Here I was, an unchained Eve in all my glory! Another voice came floating in from the deeper recesses of my brain, “In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun..”, sure was hard-pressed to find this elusive element today! I was also worried about the remaining drive back home and found Julie Andrews in my brain again, bursting forth with, “I have confidence in sunshine, I have confidence in rain, I have confidence in confidence alone, be-sides which you see I have confidence in me!”
The other reason we forget, at times, that we have a front door, is the blanket of snow that carpets the walkway leading away from the door. It covers it all, the flower beds on the sides, our lawn, our driveway. We usually just hop into the garage, press the button that operates the garage door and drive out. Until last week.
It felt like spring. Every last bit of snow had melted away. That feeling of rejuvenation and regeneration was in the air. I looked out my bay windows and saw little yellow tulip buds bursting out of our little flower patch. I yelled out to my near and dear ones, “Hey! Spring is here! C’mon out you guys!” So after four long months we finally unlocked our front door and took a few tentative steps outside, looking for buds on the cherry tree and other signs of baby greens. We ambled around, drinking in the balminess, feeling so refreshed. The rest of the day was pleasant, spirits high.
Fast forward 24 hours. Misery! Utter misery. It snowed all day. Looking out the window of my 16th floor office, my quasi-home, I felt teary-eyed as I watched the large snow-flakes falling and slowly carpeting the streets of New York. It was a nasty, wet snow. People on the streets had their useless umbrellas out, the high winds had whipped most umbrellas inside-out and the folks attached to the umbrellas appeared as though they were about to pull a “Mary Poppins” act! This after the first day of spring, the vernal equinox! I felt physically assaulted by this most unwelcome return of the white, slippery, icy stuff. I COULDN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!
My bus left the terminal at 4:00 PM and crept along at the sedate pace of 5 mph. I fitfully dozed and read as the bus crept home, the wheels grinding ice below. Several overturned cars, flashing police lights and jack-knifed tractor-trailers later it finally pulled into the “park & ride” where I usually leave my car. My nightmare wasn’t over yet. I still had to clean the six inch accumulation of snow off my windshield and rear windows and then had to plan the best ice-driving strategy for my drive back home.
I got to work on my car as the ice pellets bruised my face. I tried to brush all the accumulated and partially frozen snow off my car at a pace faster than the rate of the falling snow.
Earlier in the day I had had this lengthy conversation, on a writers’ forum, about “Eve” being in “chains”! It kept replaying in my head as I performed this extremely strenuous task, formerly the exclusive domain of Adam. Where was my Adam? I also thought of the various enchained Eves I knew here in the US, who never learnt how to drive, or how to gas up their cars, or how to fill basic forms, or travel alone, who were completely paralyzed in the absence of their Adams! Perhaps they had the right idea. Who wants to shovel snow or drive alone in an ice storm!
Here I was, an unchained Eve in all my glory! Another voice came floating in from the deeper recesses of my brain, “In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun..”, sure was hard-pressed to find this elusive element today! I was also worried about the remaining drive back home and found Julie Andrews in my brain again, bursting forth with, “I have confidence in sunshine, I have confidence in rain, I have confidence in confidence alone, be-sides which you see I have confidence in me!”
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Upside Down
A few months back I was sitting in a hospital lounge and I picked up a magazine, The Week, to while my time. The magazine had an article on existence of God and detailed some chemist or physicist, Dr. Unwin's work on God's existence. Dr. Unwin used Bayes theorem and the concept of conditional probability to prove God's existence. He began with the premise that the chance God exists is 50:50. Then he threw in more information and revised his a priori probabilities. The iterative process continued till he exhausted his set of information. The end result was that the probability that God exists is 2/3.
I picked it up from there and wrote this.
Upside Down
Upside down
Like a sage’s tale
Spun in a Darwinian yarn
We receive life’s wisdom-
One day there is God,
The other nothing.
In a sprawling precinct of a mosque
From the member to the mehrab
I see strange bedfellows-
Descartes conforming Islam.
But between the matter and the myth
Between the sword and the scythe
God waivers like a quark;
Like a twist in a tale
Poignant, humorous, stark
I turn a page
There is ‘Paradise Lost’ in its verses
I turn another
God struts in probability’s realm with Bayes.
A million tongues sprout here
With a million words on their tips
But I have heard of a chemist
Who works backwards to reach forward.
He says the chance that God exists is 2/3
(Surely a smaller fraction than 9/11)
And unwittingly he is named Dr. Unwin
©Murtaza Danish Husain
August 7, 2004
Revised February 22, 2005
I had the option to use the english words for arabic words member (pulpit) and mehrab (arch) but I retained the arabic ones purely for the phonetic effect. Similarly, I am not sure whether Dr. Unwin is a physicist or a chemist but I have retained chemist because it conveys subtle drama.
I picked it up from there and wrote this.
Upside Down
Upside down
Like a sage’s tale
Spun in a Darwinian yarn
We receive life’s wisdom-
One day there is God,
The other nothing.
In a sprawling precinct of a mosque
From the member to the mehrab
I see strange bedfellows-
Descartes conforming Islam.
But between the matter and the myth
Between the sword and the scythe
God waivers like a quark;
Like a twist in a tale
Poignant, humorous, stark
I turn a page
There is ‘Paradise Lost’ in its verses
I turn another
God struts in probability’s realm with Bayes.
A million tongues sprout here
With a million words on their tips
But I have heard of a chemist
Who works backwards to reach forward.
He says the chance that God exists is 2/3
(Surely a smaller fraction than 9/11)
And unwittingly he is named Dr. Unwin
©Murtaza Danish Husain
August 7, 2004
Revised February 22, 2005
I had the option to use the english words for arabic words member (pulpit) and mehrab (arch) but I retained the arabic ones purely for the phonetic effect. Similarly, I am not sure whether Dr. Unwin is a physicist or a chemist but I have retained chemist because it conveys subtle drama.
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