Hidden Desires

#11. hamidm2 {``if somone puts together a paragraph full of words with three syllabus or more, or writes six lines that seem to rhyme, they think that it must be some either sort of literature or the word of god himself ................ ``}

Hamidum2 Sahib,
As much as I enjoy Ozer Khalid`s poetry, I think I actually look forward to his appearance just because of the reaction he generates in you. :)

Just because one throws a few words, separated by a random number of periods with an occasional question mark, does not necessarily imply that one is a credible critic.
To make your efforts more versatile and, thus broaden your horizons, please take a look at your QWERTY apparatus. There are a number of other options that you possess at your fingertips - ,/;:```{[}]| ~`.

bjkumar #2,
BJ, if I were paranoid, I would strongly suspect that you are an unfortunate reincarnation of that great hate-monger, Uncle Temporal. Your unwavering hostility to Ozer, your nasty sense of sarcasm, compounded by your unnecessary urination on everyone`s party and your constant dislike of anything I post, betray you as the one and only Tempy. What I am curious to know is how you managed to improve your English to at least a junior high level?
You obviously are no Indian, because despite what they sound like, every Indian I know writes much better English than you. You still have a long way to go.

After reading the inspiring lines that follow:

Her yearning lips and a throbbing heart need ignition
Ill-begotten in-laws perform a fake rendition
From fiery claws a smoke is bellowing


I am moved to say bravo, oh poet, bravo!!
Smoke a-bellowin` from fiery claws?
Fake rendition from mommy-in-laws??

Janab Khalid Q. Ozer,
What Yearning Lips to set her free
Is a full service delivery Chauffeur
One who may switch on her ignition key
And drive her around the coconut tree!!

I mesed up #19, sorry. It should read:

After reading the inspiring lines that follow:

Her yearning lips and a throbbing heart need ignition
Ill-begotten in-laws perform a fake rendition
From fiery claws a smoke is bellowing

I am moved to say bravo, oh poet, bravo!!
Smoke a-bellowin` from fiery claws?
Fake rendition from mommy-in-laws??

Janab Khalid Q. Ozer,
What Yearning Lips needs to set her free
Is a full service Chauffeur
One who may switch on her ignition key
And drive her around the coconut tree!!

#various

Mian Hamidm,

I hesitate to appear on anybody`s ``side`` but your unfairness in this matter leaves me little choice. You are being eminently less than objective when it comes to this author/poet.

I take exception to your crassily conceived and crappy claim of what a real poet is constituted of. Every soul is a poet - the trick is to bring out the right words. Very often in life, it happens by the slightest of chances. It can be the most unlikely surroundings, the aura, the circumstances which can trigger a poetic streak. There is no system or method or logic to this scheme - most often such streaks run absolutely counter to all that common sense and logic point to - a stream that climbs up vertically against all known rules of gravity - yet a stream that rules - without the benefit of a ruler (as in one with markings)!

Most of the times, it is more a question of the touch of a ``shama`` rather than the contraptions of a ``shamiyana``!

The problem with Ozer`s poetry (and I withhold the quotes on purpose) is his very verbosity. His words do not trickle out - they do not even pour out or gush out - they simply flood the premises! A reader who is merely trying to take a ``Ganga dip`` suddenly feels being uprooted and thrown about every which way and perhaps absolutely disoriented. The meaning and point - whatever they may have been - simply are left aside as the reader is left gasping for breath and clutching for dear life!

But that does not mean you can declare him an ``unpoet`` (now where have I heard that term before?)

Also Hamidm mian, the worst part of your comments is that you fail to give a person due credit for his efforts which, from all appearances, are considerably hard and highly persistent - like a crow which is trying to snatch that piece of bread from the hands of a child.

Highly unfair of you!

Remember mian - every dog deserves his due - before the dog gets devoured and dissipated by the dirtwheel of destiny!

Absoultely not kosher!

Or, as people of your faith tend to say - this is NOT halal!

Dearest Salim Chauhan

nasil siniz ? hangi shehir de siniz simdi ?

As per usual, I offer a deep gratitude for your hearfelt thoughts on the poem herein. In your interaction you referred to Mir Taqi Mir who I feel laudably graced the South Asian poetic landscape, in his solemn loneliness and melancholy spoke volumes to the people of passion.

Byron is another favourite of mine. ``Hours in Idleness`` and ``Don Juan`` are vividly piercing pieces of his. His primordial energy and opulent verse are always etched onto his poems, a prime illustration of his satire is also winessed in ``English Bards and Scotch Reviewers``

Despite allegations of incest with his half-sister Augusta, to many an aspiring poet, Byron still remains a cornerstone of inspiration.

Salim who are your favourite poets ? Why do you find them appealing ?

#18 Salim Chauhan

Frankly, Ozer`s response to any criticism - no matter how severe - and I have observed such criticism at close hand and inflicted some myself in the past - is a gentle response.

Ozer`s technique may be lacking - but that is simply a question of learning - but it is obvious to any one who has watched him that his is simply a gentle soul - the soul that runs through ALL poets. (The soul that T-bhai embodifies. This is not the first time that gentle poets have been run out of town.)

This contrasts sharply with - for example - you sir, with your God-given gift of ``humor`` - which reminds me of a clown.

But not the circus clown who is the source of such mirth, amusement and pleasure for little children.

More of a clown of the IT variety (as in the Stephen King novel) - there is a streak of cruelty therein which can turn one off. It is manifested in a variety of ways, but in especially how you snap back at individuals whose expressions you disagree with.

I realize that individuals may have more to them than what appears on these pages. People can be wrong at any time. But I can form opinions, like anybody else.

(Your comments on my English are another example of the same streak! And yes, I am not Indian - I am an American!)

Re: # 14

Ozer,

All the best in your future endeavours,

- Avkrishna

#22 Ozerkhalid , sair ozan :)
Iyigigim - sagol. Atlanta de ziyaret etmek. bir anlamda.
My favorite poets are Iqbal and Ghalib in Urdu - which I understand as poorly as Temporal writes poetry - reading/writing is even worse. I like them for two different reasons - Ghalib is so sad and so full of emotion, while Iqbal is uplifting almost to the point of cheerleading. They help balance one`s mood.

My favorite American poets are Edgar Allen Poe and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I found both to be very melancholy and full of praise for the recently departed.

BJKumar #23, {``And yes, I am not Indian - I am an American!``}

BJ,
So what, so am I. Don`t try to get friendly with this common nationality plea. All I asked you was whether you were a recycled form of Temporal madness. I did not expect nor do I appreciate this sermon about my perceived cruelty against you or others. Now, just answer one simple question - are you Temporal?

#26 Chauhan

[I did not expect nor do I appreciate this sermon about my perceived cruelty against you or others.]

I was not trying to make you appreciative. You know quite well what you are - just a fake and a flake (in my view).

Every word in #23 is true and you know it!

And your baiting efforts will have no effect on me - it is all old routine - I have seen you do it too often and it does not impress!

Never has and never will.

#27, BJ
Is it so difficult for you to be honest? Are you or are you not a recycled rehash of Uncle Temporal? In the past you have made such a big deal about people using multiple nicks, Is there no end to your hypocrisy?

Ozer,

First, let me second #24 quite sincerely.

Second, I like your prose writings quite well – when you write it out of free will - and not as if somebody forced you to do so. My comments on your poetry were already provided earlier on this page.

In particular, your very distinct style of breaking thoughts into multiple lines is quite effective – something that I have learnt from you and used in my own interacts (hopefully adding to their impact) to make my own points! Therefore, thanks for the same.

I am not a poet (except as applies in the general opinion expressed to mian Hamidm (who isn`t one, either!)). My own grasp of English poets and the like and other aspects of poetry (as well as literature) is quite weak and it is not possible to provide too much feedback (it is just not “my cup of tea”) using the terms of the practitioners of the trade.

However, I feel that you should let your heart do the talking and not be trapped by making specific word structures. It is in that sense that I consider your present work an improvement over its predecessor poem.

Try to use simple words when you can. Re-read the draft several times – do not be tempted to send it in according to a timeframe. Never consider it a completed piece of work - after all, it is supposed to reflect a live part of you – therefore, it IS supposed to change till it actually, physically, can change no more.

I see poetry as little more than drawing an artistic sketch with words - except words, unlike a brush, can take a life of their own and their meaning (which is analogous to the color of the paint) can change quite a bit too - simply based on the context (like lighting) or even the reader’s perspective (like audience looking from different angles).

No artistic sketch can be confused with a photograph – the latter shows things just as they are (and sometimes is cruelly realistic) and one can magnify a photograph to very high resolutions and probe minutely and come up with iron-clad explanations for its every attribute. But the sketch has portions which are just a blur and the reader fills those in by using his own tools of imagination – and because every reader (a human being – that greatest work of art by the greatest of masters) has a unique mind – the power of the sketch is infinitely high.

It is no wonder poets have difficulty making it into a vocation. It’s just too much fun work to pay the bills!

Sincerely,
BJ Kumar

That collection we undertook on Chowk to send Temporal to poetry school seems to have paid off. He still can`t write any poetry but he sure can lecture others about it.

Ozer, to give a better idea of what I suggested, I took a stab at your words and worked with them a bit to come up with a different version of your poem. Hope you don`t mind.

The Curse

Kiss me, my love
And just feel it
Such tender kiss
As lost we get
In rapture such
And view the cloak
That covers the sea

A mighty sea
Which lies below
That ring you hold!

In-laws – they gave
Dowry so much
And yet you lack
What need you most!
Your heart – which starves
Your gaze – all frozen
And tells the truth
And truths so many!
Millions – untold!

Such hungry eyes
Famished – they stay
This crown of thorns
It just remains
Your fate forever
Your life forever

Your yearning lips
Your throbbing heart
Yet – missing spark!
And those in-laws
In fake rendition

From fiery claws
The smoke bellows
A magic spell
To make you free
If only could
Then – less would be
Your life – such hell!

And eyes – they speak
What spouse can’t hear
Yet mind conceals
And mind suppresses
But spirit – it knows
And lips – they laugh
And tears – they spread
As eyes conspire

Oh, chaste
Wither away
Set her lust-free
For long – in prison
A lost romance
A whisper – hymn
Infidelity

A fleeting love
A spirit’s spice
To tickle the soul
And passions veiled
But secret toll
Attraction takes

Forbidden was this
Conjugal intrusion
And altar vows
Were mere illusion
Or just gone by
Paranoid delusion

So hollow ring
“For better – for worse”
“Till death – us part”
No more are vows
But nuptial curse
He pays the bills
He got the purse
Diamond uncut
In cold – it shivers
And all alone
No one – to have
No one – to hold

So fickle is woman
It’s true – so true
The heart whispers
With passions such
She can`t deny
And flickers anew
That old, old flame

Though vows – they hold
Back stormy seas
Of powers - much
Just steered away
By sheer force
For feelings such!