Forever etched

You never meant bad or thought foul,
You are Pure at heart, Pure in the soul;

Talking to you, makes my mind shimmer,
You are like pure life, as seen in a mirror;

You are life, You do not need me to be alive,
Always remembered, cause it really is worthwhile;

For I love you, atleast so much, my dearest friend,
That If you were to cry, I would be a broken, no end;

Forever, in my heart and mind, you shall remain etched,
A soul like you, had the gods tried, could not be fetched …

A day in Bangalore

A few memories from my days in bangalore when I used to travel to office by bus, a long commute with a good couple of hours a day todo something. Life was quite fast paced, much more than it is here in the Bay area. It had its charms, positives and negatives…

There is a shrill scream in the air,
Already 6.30 AM, this is so not fair!

A rush to hug the loved ones in the morn,
Am I going to miss my bus again? darn.

Going through the compulsory activities in a hurry,
Boy, the time at this time really goes by, in a flurry.

Cannot ignore the good intentioned drink of milk offerred,
By none other than my mom, without whom, I am such a pauper!

Pack the newspaper, the novel, water bottle and the mp3 player,
Afterall, I need something to tickle my mind: am a Xword player.

With all of this, and some more things in mind, I say a quick bye,
Wonder how many more days can I take this, before I mentally die?

Into the other universe

Unstoppable tears,
Stream to the sea,
I am drifting:
To the sea of loneliness.

Emotions rust,
Turn rapidly into dust,
I am blinded:
In a hazy desert storm.

Desperate thoughts,
Turn deep and dark,
I am pulled:
Into a black hole.

The heart dies,
Hope and Passion,
Give a new life:
In the other Universe.

A hurricane in my closet

Wrote this one, and wanted to keep it free flow for now, maybe later someday, would modify it and make it more structured … Just wanted to make sure that everyone understands that this is not intended to be sarcastic, just humourous

I saw books; small and big, old and new, grow legs,
And walk out of my closet.

I love sharing books, but wait; this was different,
I went and peeked inside my closet.

Pillows flew to corners unreachable, and till now,
I thought only carpets could fly.

Small spaces formed comfy homes, Blankets used for
warm rooftops, everything still dry.

Damage inside, beyond repair. When three cute kids,
discretely walked into it: was like a hurricane in my closet.

Who am I? Part one

Just thought of this one, a who am I in a poem form… was it too easy? has it been done before? was I too cryptic?

any other comments , your guesses in the comments please

Who am I?

I Give an impression of being drab,
I am usually found in the colour black.

My parts in different shapes are found,
square, rectangle, but never round.

Tipity; is what I most often say,
and on some occassions a simple tap.

I by myself am of pretty much no use,
without me, you will be mentally unused.

I want to live

PAD Topic: Longing, Day 27

I want to give,
to my mother;
her every wish.

I want to see,
for my siblings;
a future bright.

I want to write,
for my self;
enrich my life.

I want to click,
for my friends;
render delight.

I want to live,
In a world;
where I belong.

On the cloud of your love

As I dream of you in a soothing and moonlit night,
Gives me a high, on this smooth and delightful flight.

As I search all around for my guiding and angel light,
Who adds passion to my heart and soul, so I can fly.

A shooting star streak’s by, I quickly make my wish,
Hoping my flight takes me, to my beautiful n soulful fish.

With a clear view of the jewelled and starry sky above,
I float around, comfy n nestled on the cloud of your love.

Visitor’s Journal

They had some new exhibits at the Museum of Fine arts and having a lifetime membership meant, I could walk in as many times as I liked. I saw the new galleries focusing on contemporary female artistes from our city.

I had a look around, had my fill of the new exhibits and was heading out. I glanced at the Visitor comment’s journal out of habit and the last one was a beautiful feminine writing complimenting one of the exhibits that I too liked a lot. I mentioned just below her comment, “me too”.

I returned on Sunday, to view a few exhibits from child artistes, on the way out, searched through the visitor’s comments again and found the same handwriting somewhere in between. It said: “loved the painting ‘Answers to questions’, what about you?” Amused, I mentioned, “loved it too, who are you?”

Out of curiosity, I returned the next day to find the same handwriting, it said: “Trying to discover it myself. Going to visit the Museum of World heritage, I work at the Ntoyodj Nst”.

I took the cue, but what on earth was Ntoyodi Nst! I went to the World heritage museum next day, and sure enough, there was her handwriting, it said: “I am Irish, do you like Irish music?” I was perplexed, what now? Should I leave my comment and come back the next day? Anyway, I wrote: “Incidentally, I love Irish music, Enya is one of my all time favourite artistes”

But, I couldn’t still for the life of me figure out what the place was, it was coded but no amount of Googling, or applying decoding software’s revealed what Ntoyodj Nst meant.

I went with a hope in my heart the next day to the World heritage museum. I was delighted to find her entry again, it said: “Interesting to know that. There is a Scottish, Irish and English music festival this entire week, you can find something there.”

Well, so now I had to search for someone, whom I recognized only by the handwriting, in a music festival, how I was ever going find out, collect autographs and compare handwritings! I half heartedly went there. I was strolling around the places listening to the live Scottish music.

I then noticed the message board. I hoped, this is where, I would find the next clue. Sure enough, after a bit of a search, I noticed a memo with her handwriting, it said: “For the best of beer from the British isles and music, do visit the “Ntoyodj Nst” on the 4th street in downtown.”

And then it dawned on me. I looked at the keyboard and figured if all the letters were replaced with the ones on the left of the letter on the keyboard then the answer was British Bar.

As I entered the British Bar, the song being played abruptly changed to “Only Time” by Enya. I looked at the DJ. She smiled at me and I returned the smile.

Intoxicated

Using the tunes
Of relationships.
Dancing,
On steps of my heartbeat.

Using the colours,
Of the seasons.
Painting,
To the vibrant mood within.

Using the sparks,
Of my imagination.
Dreaming,
To my hearts desire.

Using the elixir,
Of my passion.
Intoxicated,
On an exquisite wine called … life.

From the mental diary of …

The thugs divide their territory. Each road has one group of scoundrels who hound any innocent passer by. They become really active during the night, when the darkness promotes a fear into even the most daring soul.

It is for these reasons, that I am accompanied into the streets everyday. It’s much safer and much more peaceful when you have your brother and / or sister around. I would really like to confront these thugs, I try to do so everyday in my outings, but I am asked to restrain myself. I guess it must be for my own good, as they insist on it.

Everyday in the morning, I kiss everyone at home. My brother does not really like me doing this and he gets upset the day I try to do it. Offcourse, he is the only person I am scared of at home. When he gets mad, he can be really furious and that scares the hell out of me.

My brothers and sisters are usually in a great hurry in the morning, they all want to reach office on time and they all have a bus to catch, if they fail to catch the bus, it can get really nasty in the Bangalore traffic. That’s what I hear them complaining about everyday.

I stay back at home with Mom and give her company the entire day. She is very caring, and makes sure I get my breakfast on time even if the others don’t get any breakfast at all. For some reason, I tend to lose my temper and appetite, if I don’t get the breakfast in time. I end up going without food almost till evening.

It’s surprising that all my tantrums are tolerated. Mom off course pampers me no end, however my brother always tries to control my temper, tantrums. Even though I welcome each one of them when they come back from office, my brother still tries to play the spoil sport sometimes.

I love travelling in the car with everyone, especially when they go out for an outing; I never like it when they decide to leave me alone at home. I end up brooding the entire time when I am left back. I end up spending endless moments anxious about when they would arrive. I am not sure why they sometimes leave me back.

I have been with all of them to Ooty, Udipi and many of the other numerous trips to nearby places in Bangalore. I have also been out in Jayanagar, MG Road, Koramangala and other places in Bangalore.

For some reason my brother and one of my sisters have left me and have not returned. I am not sure why, they were really happy souls when they were here together. Will they ever come back? I cannot contact them. Can someone help me find out, Can you?

From: The mental diary of Aldo, a spitz and a pet at the A’s & K’s.