Where silence speaks,words intrigue infinity and thoughts travel light years to invade the mind cells wherein simmers a volcano of ideas and images juggling to burst forth into an intricate filigree of patterns and designs, complex in its simplicity and bizarre in its mundane echoes.
Thursday, 9 November 2017
Simply Haiku
Wednesday, 27 March 2013
Thursday, 24 March 2011
I SCRIBBLE
I have lately got into this very bad habit of scribbling - as soon as I can snatch a piece of paper, be it the corner of a yellowing packet, old/current newspaper, screwed up paper balls (which I straighten out with great care), dog-eared slice of a page, in short, anything and everything, which falls within the category of papyrus, my pen goes crawling all over it and lovingly so.
Lately, I have also found a fascination for haikus, though my mentors tell me I got them all wrong when I try to create one and that I should get some help in the form of workshops, www.simplyhaiku.com, tutelage under Kalaji, the well known internationally acclaimed haiku poetess etc. etc. But stubborn attempts as you may call it, I refuse to take the good and sane advices extended and keep on scratching on virgin lands scripting thoughts which even if go un-etched, will not bother the world at all.
So, coming to haikus – mine are never what they are intended to be. At best these may be called “shykus” as I shy away from conventions guarding this unique form of poetry or “trykus” as they follow the hit and trial route. One of my net friends coined her own fiasco as “mykus”. Borrowing the nuance from her kitty, I write on. Given below are some of my pet disasters. It depends on the reader’s imagination to fathom what they actually are and under what caption these may be placed:
WeekendsJotting down chores
A day’s too short
Savings
For old age
Dwindling assets
Lost my way
Turning around
Bump into a dead end
Reposes serenely on
A sheaf blank
A page mark
I scribble
Scampers past
A squirrel
A few drops of rain
My Elovera
Is green again
A few drops of sun
Blooming lilies
So much fun
An old film song
Waft in air
Memories fond
A few stars
Dancing in the pond
Glimpses from the road beyond
At this bend
A cluster of thoughts
On strained end
Crumpled in a purse
Old and yellow
A forlorn snapshot











