As I Pick up the Quill...

A torrent of words flow out,
Drenching me in joyous embrace,
Seemingly ne'er to stop,
Sweeping me off my unsteady feet.

My spirit soars with raw passion,
And the powerful storm slows to a playful shower,
Melodious in rhythmic grace,
Spinning me around in rapturous terpsichore.

Now a gentle drizzle,
Peppering me with questions,
Knowing when I am able to listen,
And rejuvenating my soul with fresh raindrops.

The heavens turn silent, but..
A cool damp breeze blows through my being,
Probing my feelings, lending me meaning,
Making me yearn for the words that had flow'd.

And then I set down the quill.

(A poem to explain how a poet feels when he/she writes a poem... man the words are really flowing for me these days..)

The Mirror of the Self

(After a long time... a new poem. I wrote a part of it earlier, inspired by Richard Bach's Illusions, but rewrote and completed it only today. Actually, I don't quite fully understand what I've written myself, so it's more or less open to interpretation.)

In a small village
On a not-too distant shore,
Was born a boy in this age
Like none you’ve seen before.

Too aware of the harsh world,
And too sensitive for his own good,
He would sit thinking till the night grew cold,
And the fire died for lack of wood.

A fine young man he grew up to be,
But this world is not the right place
For a mind as beautiful as had he;
Yet it was something he had to face.

Confused, he was, by so many things
That defied the common sense of his soul;
Questions raged and lent him wings
And one night into the darkness he stole.

He could not put into words his distress
And the thoughts that blazed in his head.
But he sought the answers nonetheless;
The wide world, in front of him was spread.

He searched for justice
He searched for compassion
He searched for mercy
He searched for integrity
His search was long, but in vain.

He searched the mountains
He searched the valleys
He searched the oceans
He searched the deserts
His face was weathered by the strain.

At last he chanced to hear
Of an elusive hermit who was very wise;
For the needy alone he would appear,
And offer his priceless advice.

He found him at last on a snow-capped peak,
And submitted to him thus:
"O Wise one!
I have scoured the lands and the seas;
I have looked everywhere, and what do I see?
I see hatred, I see bloodshed,
I see pettiness, I see cruelty,
I see jealousy, I see greed,
I see selfishness, I see dishonesty.
All I look for is a human being,
The way God made him to be.
Is that too much to ask?
Why can I not find such a man?"

The wise hermit said to him,
"Cease your search this very instant.
All who you see, who are not
How you know they should be,
Are but lost, and it is your duty
To show them the way."

The young man suddenly felt as though
His soul were cleansed with heavenly light
And his heart was unburdened a thousand-fold.
He turned around, hesitated, and turned again
To ask how he may start this monumental task.
But the man he’d addressed was not to be found;
In his place was a frozen mirror of ice.

A miracle he’d seen, and a miracle he’d heard.
With purpose anew he set forth upon his task.
He was a leader of men,
Aye, men they’d become under his guidance
From the creatures the world had turned them into.

"This man is the Son of God," they whispered,
"And he has seen and spoken to Him."
"I am naught but a son of this same Earth,”
He replied, "And I but saw and spoke to my inner self."

What Matters?

(Just dug this one up. Wrote it last year in forty minutes for my creative writing exam... those were the days...)

Things which move me,
And make me feel free;
A bright butterfly, a golden sunset,
A field of dandelions, a melodious dulcet;
Thus spoke the dreamy poet.

Bessel functions and differential equations,
Partial derivatives and slide rule calculations;
An underlying order in nature's every creation
For which man still seeks an explanation;
So said the thoughtful mathematician.

The enchanting lilt of a clear, sweet voice
In which one may dissolve and rejoice:
The harmony of a well struck chord,
The reason why noise is easy, but music is hard;
The musician said this, and the bard.

The fact that there are buildings a hundred storeys tall,
The way the Ancient Chinese built the Great Wall,
The miracle of the Leaning Tower still standing,
The magnificence of the Taj Mahal, beyond understanding;
Said the architect's voice commanding.

The integrity of our borders,
The obeying of a superior's orders,
Power and Glory,
Battle and Victory;
I gathered from the General's story.

I listened to all, but none convinced me,
Until a grubby orphan, running careless and free,
Said in a voice that rang innocent and true,
"You need someone to care for you,
To be with you, hold you and love you."
Tell me, dear reader,
Do you not agree?

Parting Ways

(I composed this little poem specially for my email signature a few years ago... now that college is getting over, I thought this would be an appropriate time to put it up on my blog.)

As we trudge along the sands of time,
Different ways do we part;
I only wish, when years hence,
Your thoughts may chance to turn to me,
You think of me fondly,
Without malice, without sorrow, without regret.

Destiny

(This is one of my older poems, and not a particularly good one. Is it because I don't really hold the opinions expressed in it?)

I don’t believe in luck.
I don’t carry the foot of a rabbit,
Or the tooth of a woodchuck.
I refuse to accept that it
Controls my destiny.

By the laws of probability,
The longer your run of luck,
The lower the probability
Of it staying stuck;
And you come crashing down.

I don’t believe in fate;
It is an excuse for failure
That I absolutely hate.
My life’s like this, I’m sure,
Because I made it this way.

Your actions today
Decide what you are tomorrow.
I have one last thing to say:
If your life’s full of sorrow,
Do not weep, but seek to set things right.

A Hint of a Tear

(Eleven days to submit my thesis, and instead of writing about PLC programs I ended up writing this poem. Some people are plain incorrigible I guess.)

He breathed twice, long and deep,
And forcing a smile onto his face,
Climbed stairs that never before seemed steep.
His mind was swimming in space,
But he managed to knock on the door.

She chuckled as she recognized
That characteristic double knock;
But she was quite surprised
When she opened the door and took stock,
For in spite of his smile he looked troubled.

Idle conversation did no consolation lend,
So he said the words he’d come to say;
He thanked her for being such a good friend -
The past few years, in his heart would ever stay,
But it was time for him to return to his homeland.

She stood rooted to the spot;
Her throat went dry, her heart nearly stopped.
But her expression betrayed her not,
And she looked merely concerned as they talked,
About the days that would never come back.

He relaxed in her company, as always.
He searched for some hint, some sign,
In her words, her face,
Oh! That face so divine…
Please just ask me to stay…

She did her best to make him feel at ease,
She wanted him to leave with fond memories;
But, she thought, just say the words, please,
Say you love me, say it, please,
And I will be with you forever…

He couldn’t bring himself to say it;
He would say nothing that could bring her grief.
Her concerned smile was like a beacon lit,
Strange: she the stalwart pillar, he the fragile leaf.
And as he bade goodbye to his best friend,
He imagined that he saw
The hint of a tear in her eye.

Rain of Emotions

(This was the first poem I decided to save for posterity. Suggestions for a change of title are welcome!)

When it begins to drizzle
Before the clouds sizzle
With lightning and thunder,
Doesn’t it make you wonder
How the weather could be so pleasant?

That ephemeral twinge of dampness,
That joyous touch of coolness,
Tangible, yet evanescent,
The sky, translucent,
With sparks of blue
In the gray misty ocean.

The ground is covered with spots
Due to the falling raindrops,
Vanishing as soon as they appear,
Only to be replaced by others.

Then the Gods show their anger;
The heavens roar with thunder,
And send forth bolts of lightning,
The experience is frightening.

Mercifully, finally, thankfully,
The sun appears in all its golden glory.