Ending The Suspense

The last two posts suggests that I am going to my roots. Yes I am in India. It was a quick decision in one way and a decision to force a change. Well when I called my mother after getting the tickets ready and asked her what do you want she said, I need one of you two to be here.(my other brother is in USA too). I didn’t told my mom I am coming, in fact only my older brother knew I was coming to India. The flight got delayed from Mumbai to Kochi. So I couldn’t reach during daytime. My mother was in her prayers so along with the so called “Mother Of All Surprises” I also became a distraction of her prayers. So my mother is seen here in the video in the prayer costume. It was a surprise for my nephew Omar too. My brother called him and told him he is bringing a T.V actress to home so Omar and his friend were waiting to see a girl. Here is the video of it, as it was night the light is pretty dim. Me and my brother tried our best to play with this video to fix that, the following video is the best we could do.

So after more than 3 years I saw my mom, surprised my sister over the phone. Tried my best to surprise my niece but she is too intelligent, the moment my sister told her over the phone that someone brought some gifts for her kids from USA she asked… When did Saju uncle came? So far I am fighting my best not to get dehydrated, it is damn hot here, about 115f with humidity reaching 99. The tropical monsoon is on its way and we hope it will start next week. For the time being air conditioners are going on in full swing. I will post more pictures and videos of this fantastic vacation.
  I will be back in USA on 3rd week of June.

Remembering “The Star”.

Okay, I first thought I will do two posts to tell you all something.Nope there will be three posts. A little suspense is good isn’t it? Here is the second poem. The whole poem is not mine from the titleitself one can understand that. I used four lines of a very familiarpoem to end this poem. What interested me is none tried to reallyfigure out what I am going to do. Well, now I can clearly say, “who thehell cares about me anyway” someone I thought cared, didn’t even caredto say a word. mmm, it is a busy world out there aha.


This is me in the  picture standing above my home in India. Theterrace that’s seen behind me was where I used to sit in the night witha two and half inch telescope to look at stars. It was not a big onestill that’s all I could get my hands on….

Remembering “The Star”.


A hundred full moons I have seen,
A thousand nights the stars I’ve watched,
Those tiny blinking lights far far away,
Brings to mind peace and tranquility,
Even when in chaotic violence they burn.

Oh’ those days and nights I pushed,
Learning a truth step by step,
A world without boundary divided,
Bye crooked politicians and fanatics,
Oh’ none can lock dreams in chains and ball,
None can draw lines God don’t see.

On an evening when sun drowned into sea,
Mind said its time to go,
I followed no dream, I followed none,
Still I reached where mind found its peace.

Deep inside still some feelings in unrest rocked,
For which no meaning my wisdom can find,
What left unfinished my material brain can’t find,
Even when chaos and mistakes followed on and on,
From far away many looked at a peaceful smile,
And in my mind echoed a quartet in rhymes I’ve heard,
When imaginations where only sprouting like,
The blossoms in the early spring,
“Twinkle, Twinkle little star,
How I wonder what you are,
Up above the worlds so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.”.

In Search For A Footprint.

I don’t lie. I am too old for that. But I don’t really speak directlythat’s how I became a poet… hehehe. Here is my picture and a poem.Some knows what I mean, others try to figure out what is going on.

In Search For A Footprint.


Through lost ways gathered,
Time as brutal past enshrined,
Blurring the offenses of those days,
Smiles of irony enchants upon face.

Whispers of love only in illusions lived,
Reality never birthed even in life filled,
With negative charms of some unknown curse,
Leaving questions inside mind,
“Why did I birthed and in every breath love her?”

The meaning of love O searched and searched,
In the light of love, in the enshrined past,
Shadows that kept in dark those feelings,
All gone leaving no footprints behind.

The feeling of love O they consumed mind,
The light from the soul in every corner filled,
Oh’ so bright became the light of love,
Leaving every sense blinded by the glow.

Every step taken with all senses shut,
They all in the wrong of life ended,
And the light of love faded in the dark,
Darkness of feelings of love unacknowledged.

All ways ahead O dead ends they all are,
Only ways to the roots known in depths of past,
Maybe in the deserted ways may find,
A footprint or two of mistakes of oneself,
From where will come back paving ways,
Ways ahead in search of a happy day.

Anjali Anjali pushpanjaali – From the Tamil movie ‘Duet” One of my favorite  Indian actress Meenakshi Sheshadri is the one who acted in this movie. Great songs especially this one. Music by A.R.Rahman, Performed by S.P.Balasubramaniam and Sujatha.

Advice To A Lost Lover

Heading towards a weekend. At times here in this site and inlonelypoet.org I have said many times, what process through which Itake an event and expand that event to an idea and write about it. Theprocess remain same no matter what different ways I put it. Sometimethe whole process may take about 10 min. Sometime it may take a week ortwo. There was one time it took nearly 10 years. Life in two differentcountries, 3 relationships in between, 3 major deaths in the family.Still I held on to that one idea. That’s the first suggestion I cangive to a young writer. Consistency and the persistence on beingunique. The one reason I stayed in Xanga is there are many youngwriters who show that amazing talent of expression through words. It isthe most difficult art form. As many are young and naive they justdon’t know the treasure they are sitting upon. When I said treasure Ididn’t mean that one is sitting on top of a pot of Gold or money. Poetryis not valued in money and in fact there is little or no money one canearn writing poetry. Money is for the brain and actions generated outof brain. Poetry is from the heart, to the heart, so it is thespiritual enhancement that it brings. With that one can perfect a lotof the brainy works. Said that… it may only take a simple phrase onehear or sight one see that triggers the whole process, so in a way, amaterial connection is always there. It then goes through the spiritualside. Not a lot of writers these days really understand the differencebetween an action and its spiritual side. For most of the people it is all bound together. To become a poet the first and foremost thing toachieve is to differentiate between the two. Talent alone won’t makeone a poet, knowledge alone won’t make one a poet either. Knowledge isthe action, it can be learned. Talent is the spiritual side of it andit need to be blend with the action at the right amount. That, one canonly earn by practice. A poet should write everyday. Even if what iswritten don’t make sense he/she should write. Because when God gave youthat talent God meant something with it and you don’t want todisappoint God by denying it.

  Here is a simple example of taking an event from life. When I saidlife I cannot clearly say it is absolutely real. Because from the timeafter this poem is written things have changed. I thought of notposting this poem here ever. What I want to show is, how to treat anevent from a poetic perspective. The situation was, I didn’t heard fromsomeone for sometime. I thought that person is gone-a-gone. Just athought what that person may get if that person comes back. Okay thattriggered the process. I wrote it last weekend. Along with theprevious poem. But during the course of this week, that person came back. Sothe reality of the context does not exists. So I thought this will be agood way to show how to take a little idea and blow it as big aspossible, taking simple words and images from reality itself.


Tides came and gone with the moon,
Still echoed the roar of the sea,
More inside the mind and mind swooned,
Opened eyes watched memories in the swollen waves flee.

Oh’ the memories of the liar in me,
The one in whispers lied and lied ,
That the love I felt for you was an unreal plea,
Of mind in beauty and charms bide.

Why ye left love to the monstrous dark?
Tightening chains, mind from inside bound,
The flow of the world making thoughts stark,
Leaving love in soul an un-healable wound.

Step back in time, the healer ever forgiving,
Back at those sunny spring and summer days look,
Days and nights spent in ones own soul rediscovering,
In each other’s mind from where love we took.

Now each other we both lost,
In distant deserts where spring never blooms,
Only mirages we both see of each other’s paths we crossed,
And the paths ahead filled with mists of gloom.

Come back, O dear, come back, with smile so bright,
The love ye sought in fulfillment still in this heart reigns,
In the blinding dark give a lost soul love filled sight,
And enlighten your own soul from loveless pain.

Come back and the looming silence you break,
From a heart that dwells in the realm of gloom,
And in your silence forever ache,
And will wait even beyond the day of doom.


  Now here is something I am starting to work on…. maybe some of youcan also work with this. “Stepdad’s crimes, his authority, his passion,his vigilance. Themother’s helplessness, Their love, the mother’s love… the chaos ofall in everyday life. The heart so frozen with every given day gone by.Freedom from it all an oasis far far away.” This is how I make an idea.I got this idea during writing a comment for another post. As I haven’tdealt with a step dad or step mom situation I really have to dig deep intomy imagination to write this. Some of you who have dealt with suchsituations will be able to express this idea more realistically. Let meknow so that we can compare the works.

 
Have a great weekend.

Theory Of Failure

A head start was given earlier this week about this poem. A view point, rest the poem should speak for itself.

Theory Of Failure

The mind of an adolescent with dreams filled,
And step by step tothe worldly cravings left,
Follow the dream the world togetheryelled,
Followed the dreams, focused step by step.

Thescreams of the world never changed,
Those exploiters who made onelook good,
Those feelings that made one feel great,
All of themjust day traders who faded,
After a moments pleasure that onefreely gave.

Adolescent and teen years fallen away,
Like leaves in the season of fall,
When faced the bare naked worldof reality,
Unbearable the pain, as life became,
An unknowngame of poker against wicked fate.

In the perplexed passionsemotions froze,
The youthful years by the unfelt lovetorn.
Whenever eyes in despair closed,
Nothing of this world inmind’s eyes saw,
All felt were layers of sky blocking,
Someunknown reality one always failed to see.

After outliving theyouthful years life took,
A backward turn as all the pathspassed,
Through the roads of time from birth,
None meaningfullydefined any roads ahead.

The charms of youthlingered,
Everything grown, yet another step,
Upon the failedpast that never held,
Life built with sweat and blood,
Upon acastle drawn in the air.

Unpredictable the future alwayswas,
Undefined were the results of dreams,
Uncouth were thosewho filled in roles,
But the drama that repeated with differentpeople,
Oh’ always ended in failures of a bubbled up mind.

Mindbound to unnatural dreams,
The never ending chase after deadlinesunrealistic,
The lovely faces upon which trusted the purity oflove,
And excuses invented, justifying those who rejected,
Beliefthat makes one yearn for perfect and purest,
While looking atothers for ones own success.

For the mirages of life neverwritten in ones life,
Looking way above to those fakedsmiles,
Wanting and wishing for life of someone else,
Blamingeverything alive or some unknown fate,
When all those faded awayas illusions incomprehensible,
Even then dragging on and on leavinglife,
Into surprises guessed and miraclesexpected,
Oh’ they all lead to failures of a kindunimaginable.

The Riven Riff.

******Start Update********
If anyone find any mistakes be it grammatical or in typos please let me know without hesitation. One of my friend from Greece pointed out couple of mistakes, grave ones. Feel free to correct me folks. I will never feel bad about it.
******End Update*********

In the heights of frustration a strength will come from within thatmakes one accept reality. When it repeats the force grows more andmore. In one of those repetitions I decided to write a poem which Inamed “Theory Of Failure”. Well that went well, one week and 7 hourslater the Theory was formed. Now to all the newcomers to this site. Ihave a habit of over writing. That’s not the right way to say it. Ikeep on writing and writing and writing to get an idea work in my mind.During that time I speak aloud and walk around, kiss my own hands, playguitar badly(I never played guitar in a good way). It is a chaos. Mostof these over writing just goes to trash. Sometime they may make sense.Here is what came out during the writing of “Theory Of Failure”interestingly the Theory did not rhymed and this one did. “Theory”right now is sitting in my google docs I may make some more changeshere and there and you will see it on Wednesday.

The Riven Riff.


Charm of blistering youth blazed,
Making every moment glorious,
The moment lived erased,
In a forgotten past sung melodious.

The mindset changed again and again,
Silly emotions in depths of mind left,
Blisters unknown that intermittently pained,
And depression in silence grown heft.

A lot have been known,
Still the pathos of the forgotten past lingered,
A lot left to unknown,
And in sadness and disappointment mind angered.

The fire in the mind to every corner grown,
The force within in every way charged,
Boiled blood through baked veins flown,
And every sense in the chaos of mind enlarged.

Years stacked to decade
And decades stacked to a lifetime,
The body through time fade,
A wrinkled up mass of skin way past its prime.

Into one hand of time and one hand of fate slip,
From the completeness of a lifetime filled,
In arrogance, gladness, anger all gripped,
Yet, disappointment through every senses spilled.

All that in reality, fantasy and spirituality attained,
All came with reasons forced from within skillfully,
As the memory of the reason from within reigned,
The mangled mind in glory of emotions shined willfully.

That face, that mind, the dancing scenes, the musical notes,
Those unrhymed verses that rhymed in feelings given,
Oh’ within the soul they all will always float,
Though, rest of the lifetime in the riff of that soul riven.

Someone asked me in my myspace site is there anything new, I said”Nothing new” yes thereis nothing new. So I just wrote something I thought I will first postthere. There is hardly anyone who knows that I have a myspace account.There are some. Even they did not showed up there. hehehe. On MondayApril 28, 2008 I posted the following poem there.

Pain Of A Blessing.

Through the dark paths gladness left,
As the blessing mind forgot the gone by days
Leaving feelings of a dagger piercing,
Deep into spine, where pain never felt,
As sadness, fear, and anger in disappointment drowned.

Not felt the known feelings of love,
Not felt the unknown feelings of your touch,
There is a hunger inside that depicts,
The truth of of the yearnings of unknowns,
And it all takes your face from this day.

Oh’ followed the dreams I thought ageless,
When through every root of hairs on me,
Pain of passions lost clutched and squeezed,
And the many times bloodless I fell,
Where none stood to lend a hand,
New dreams were formed and lifted,
Back on to legs and I ran and ran and ran,
After all those that came through senses,
Now I know not what a true dream is,
As all that I followed were curses humanity left.

A bleeding heart in my hand youth left,
And it will bleed rest of a lifetime I will live,
As what I was shown will shine bright,
Filling more blood in my already stretched veins,
And never I will free my mind off you,
And never will I live a day without the memory,
Of a blessing in the youthful days known,
A blessing spelled by you,
A blessing which is you.

Never will I bow before another human,
Never will I bury the truth of myself,
May it be that a synonym of failure I become,
May it be that the face of nightmares I become,
But through it all I still will remember,
The blessing you are and you were.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM