Grey lining, Silver cloud

Hi Faiza:

Perfection is how we perceive...not what happens, I guess.

When you hope, there is always fear.

I am not too sure I would go with only ``trash``, but thanks for liking most of it -- the poem, not the trash!)

Be well,
F
- - -

hamidm...if you are anywhere around, hope you did not take the use of the term ``mad`` amiss. I genuinely am more comfortable with people who are not terribly sane, as in following every little dictate of society. I just might write a poem on that!

Hello Farzana Sahiba

Hope all is well on your side. We know that`s never the case or else life would be too perfect of a reality...
Simply beautiful. Concise but yet so poignant.
So the end, ``Something will be born
I can feel the pain.`` is that a ray of hope or fear of what awaits you in the future?

My favorite,
``It is so easy to break a home
A few bricks, a few stones
Memory’s cold skeletons
Withered roses in the trash-bin
Dust-laden mementoes``
except, simply trash would be more effective, kind of keeps the flow.

Take care

Faiza Hussain

hamidm2:

Did not mean to scare you, but if it did work as a wake-up call, then I am happy.

But I am convinced you are a `lunatic` - you insist religion is useless, but spend a lot of time trying to make sense of it; you say you like your drink, but you never sound drunk; you keep telling us that you hate poetry and cannot understand why anyone should write it, but you are on almost every poetry board again trying to find some semblance of coherence. Now there could be two reasons -- either it is like reverse fear psychosis: sher (the animal, not shair) se dar lag raha hai tau uske moonh mein haath daalo, or deep within you there is a poet wanting to come out but in denial because you have walked the lunatic road and now want to have fun with `normal` respectability and make a mess of it (and I mean that as a compliment).

You are mad, which is why I find it easy to deal with you!
- - -
temporal:

Three of the four lines in the interact begin with `F`, there is also an attempt to alliterate. Thanks anyway...

fv:

fecund and facand

or

facund and fecund

Nah, this was not driven off the front page. I asked for it to be moved as I had another piece that was topical. Besides, as a matter of principle I do not like two articles at the same time on the front page (sometimes the Chowk eds listen to me, sometimes they do not).

So I guess poets are good folk and generally mean well.

ouch !... that was cruel and very very scary .......... i used to be a ``lunatic`` but now, i guess, i am becoming ``normal`` - must stop, now! .......... thanks for the wake-up call

sorry,........ didn`t mean to drive it off the front page .......... i am sure poets are good folk who mean well

I did not think I would interact on this board even when I posted it, nor do I expect anyone to understand what went behind it; if it did not reach out to you, I respect your reaction...but I suppose it would be `healing` for me to talk some...

ELUSIVE:

I am surprised you remember the use of ``prism`` in an earlier poem of mine...

[is the first part of the poem referring to an event in politics or history?]

If there is any history...it is mine, and there is politics in all relationships.

The last verse did not capture the essence, but was a sliver of hope.

My own favourite lines, in that they captured a certain state of being and nothingness, were...
One day we returned home
To find eggshells
We were destined to walk on.

And since you seem to be interested in poetry, in simple terms, part one is trial, part 2 error, part 3 understanding. In the last I have transposed death of something (urn) with hope for a new life (something will be born). Neither is painless. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.

tahmed32:

Sweat dos get licked...if you can have salt in your meals, then this should be no problem! But thanks for your comments and as you can see, you spoke too soon...I am on Chowk again...

Jang, sometimes a poem is not just a poem...and some words have got to be hyphenated. Your take does not convey what I wanted to...but it may convey what you want to.

atif2:

I am aware of most people on Chowk...but these poems was written with someone else in mind in 1998.

Is there something you are trying to tell me? Then kindly clarify. Innuendo disgusts me.

hamidm2:

[someitmes it is comforting to think that maybe, just maybe, we are normal and the poets are pitiful and kooky lunatics who deserve our sympathy and tolerance......]

Being `normal` really isn`t that great a virtue. Besides, I should imagine it would be a waste of alcohol. Normal person drinks while watching the telly, going over the grocery bills, lubricates his fingers with oil from pakoras, pretends that he had a great time with his wife and even rolls over and snores so that the pretence is near-perfect. Next morning he goes to work and works!

The lunatic gets sloshed and has no time for the TV, bills, fingers, spouse...he falls over with hedonism. next morning he is still lying on the floor when he discovers that there was someone in fact in his bed...a plate of pakoras stands witness. And in this inspired moment the kooky poet writes something, something that jabs...S/he seeks neither tolerance nor sympathy. A bottle of vintage wine would do :)

So what would you like to be?

Ah good old Bob Dhillon what an artist from Bhatinda

les temps qu`ils sont a-changin`
Personnes venezes du rassemblement
round partout où vous
errez et admettez que les eaux autour
de vous se sont développées
et l`acceptez que bientôt

You`ll soit trempé à l`os.
Si votre temps à vous
vaut la peine savin` ;
Puis vous mieux début swimmin`;
Ou évier de you`ll comme une pierre pendant
les temps ils sont a-changin` ;.

Venez les auteurs et les critiques
qui prophesize avec votre stylo
et maintiennent vos yeux larges
la chance won`t viennent encore
et les don`t parlent toujours
trop tôt pour le wheel`s dans la rotation
et le there`s aucun tellin` ;
qui cet it`s namin` ;.
Pour le perdant
maintenant soyez plus tard pour gagner pendant
les temps qu`ils sont a-changin` ;.

Venez les sénateurs, les membres du Congrès satisfont
l`attention le stand de l`appel
Don`t dans le bloc de la porte
Don`t vers le haut du hall pour
He qui obtient le mal
sera lui qui a calé
There`s une bataille extérieure
et c`est ragin` ;.
D`It`ll la secousse bientôt
vos fenêtres et cliquettent vos murs pendant
les temps qu`ils sont a-changin` ;.

Venez les mères et les pères
dans toute la terre
et le don`t critiquent
ce que vous can`t comprenez
que vos fils et vos filles soyez
au delà de votre commande
que votre vieille route est
rapidement agin` ;.
Sortez svp du neuf
si vous can`t prêtez votre main pendant
les temps qu`ils sont a-changin` ;.

La ligne c`est dessiné
la malédiction qu`il est moulé
la lente maintenant
sera plus tard tout rapide que
le présent maintenant
sera plus tard après
l`ordre est
rapidement fadin` ;.
Et le premier maintenant
sera plus tard durent pendant
les temps qu`ils sont a-changin`

yaaay hamidm! Bob Dylan rox!

hi farzana - remember me? :) why do i get the feeling that you wrote this beautiful poem with me in mind?!

Walking through the past
Throats parched
Licking each other’s sweat
Our thirst quenched

mmmmmm... ;)

you are welcome. anytime :)

Could we seek perfection together?
[Sounds good}

Licking each other’s sweat
[ye gods!! Lick sweat!!]

And painted the sky with our eyes
[thats better]

How perfection lies!
[I`ll accept that]

It is so easy to break a home
[True. Friend of mine is going through a messy divorce with a perfectly charming wife and two fine kids - simply because he didnt learn to keep his mouth shut when he had the time. All he had to do was not bring his office home with him. Sad.]

Overall: Nice effort. Hope you keep on contributing to chowk. Dont let the likes of rsaxena bother you - the man hasnt done anything but write stupid, cynical remarks these 5 years I have seen him on chowk.

.. the missing gene,

........... i don`t get it ......... as a matter of fact, other than bob dylan and dr seuss, i don`t get most poetry and it makes me feel incompetent, inadequate and really quite stupid ....... it makes me feel that my education has been wasted; sometimes i feel that i didn`t get educated because most of the time i was wasted; then, at times i feel that poetry is a waste and all poets should be wasted or, at a minimum, sent to guantanamo for crimes against people who were born without the useless gene that enables one to make sense out of stuff that, on the surface, appears to be nonsense ............. is it ?....... i don`t know, but i don`t have the gonads to say so in public because people will think i am stupid or, worse, it will strengthen their case for prohibition because they say, ``look, didn`t we tell you that alcohol kills brain cells``............ but then how do you explain that most poets were dipsomaniacs ?...........

.............. it is a perplexing question and maybe, in the big scheme of things, it doesn`t really matter, but for those of us who are afflicted by this terrible genetic disorder it is a source of great angst ..........someitmes it is comforting to think that maybe, just maybe, we are normal and the poets are pitiful and kooky lunatics who deserve our sympathy and tolerance......

I found the poem poignant but healing!


``Something will be born
I can feel the pain. ``

The last verse captured the entire essence of the poem. Isn`t it ironic how a human foolishly hopes for a better day which always arrives too late? and heaven is found in the hurt which becomes a part of you..

Reminded me of a melody i heard long ago:


another ditch in the road
you keep moving
another stop sign
you keep moving on
and the years go by so fast
wonder how I ever made it through

another bruise to try and hide
another alibi to write
another lonely highway in the black of night
there`s hope in the darkness
I know you`re gonna make it.

---

ps. i noticed that you used the object ``prism`` in your last poem as well. is the first part of the poem referring to an event in politics or history?

please focus on the BJP - thanks

``Withered roses in the trash-bin
Dust-laden mementoes ``

hyphenated words are like speed-bumps in a poem. commas are ok..kind of road signs. i mean, its rought going as it is for some of us.

my rewrite (poetic critic license)

roses, withered, trashed, maiden,
mementoes, pregnant, dust laden..

jeez, have kids already, and that will ``fix`` the kashmakash.