I write because I read. I read because I write.
Find me in silent
corners where the
horizon’s mouth
swallows another
burning ball,
licks the cool sky
in pastel blush
in front of all.
Find me in soft,
tender nighttime
blanket, sipping a
the third cup of my
daily coffee haul.
Find me inside the
chosen shell of
solitude where
thoughts are
slowly eaten,
gingerly chewed.
Find me on the lap
of whistling rhymes
and twirling rhythms,
for I live in two worlds—
the real and the written.
We can live a thousand lives
yet never can we say
we fully understand love—
a changing matter
from concrete solid
to shape-shifting liquid
to intangible gas,
a metamorphosing butterfly
from a crawling larva
to a cocooned pupa
to a winged epitome of class.
But my love, when I look into your eyes,
I can smell the aroma
of the fresh dewdrops of breaking dawn,
I can hear the consistent ebb and flow
of the ocean’s water-made lawn,
I can taste the golden rust of a priceless relic
the turning time has drawn.
I know this is the kind of love I prayed—
its charming beginning, dependable middle, and a mortal end.
And maybe infinity awaits us after we drew our final breaths.
Snowflakes falling looks like a dream,
but shovelling thick snow is a task.
Some millions tear up with Notre Dame,
then mutely smells Amazon’s ash.
When will we speak, when we should?
When will we answer, when we are asked?
I hope before our mothership sinks.
I hope before we all turn into dust.
While my reading habit has remained quite erratic because of my job’s schedule, I am still able to sneak some time to read and finish some good books (although I am so far from the 24 books in 2019 I set for myself in Goodreads! Ugh!)
In any way, the husband has been of help in supplying me with good reads like Sesher Kobita by Rabindranath Tagore.
Sesher Kobita or Shesher Kabita is a novel by the brilliant writer from Bengali, Tagore. It was a novel written in 1928 and has since been translated into English.
While I do not particularly agree with the ideas of Amit (the main man) and Labanya (the main woman) when it comes to love, relationships, and marriage, there is no doubt that this book is a written with such classic grace and eloquence — perhaps a Tagore trademark.
So to show you some glimpse of what this timeless read has to offer, here are some lines I love from Sesher Kobita:
Even the test of a poem is through an ordeal by fire, but it has to be the fire of the soul.
Movement itself keeps us young, at every step there is newness, and no time to get old.
Age creeps up when we sit still.
How about you? What have you been reading lately? 🙂
Have you read Tagore? What do you think about his novels and poetry?
Man-made machines flying will not satiate humans’ dreaming
from the clouds to the moon, even Mars is under planning.
A brave moth hunting for the fire that can burn its metal wings.
Reblogging this much needed initiative.
“One Million Stars to End Violence” project of PERAK WOMEN FOR WOMEN SOCIETY
Dedicated to all women and children who are victims of Violence.
Perak Women for Women Society (PWW) is a registered, apolitical, non profitable and non-governmental organisation (NGO) founded in 2003 to enhance the status and lives of women in Perak irrespective of their race, religion and social background.
They recently launched its “One Million Stars to End Violence” project. It is a global weaving that has inspired individuals, groups and communities to weave stars to inspire light, hope and peace in the world. Ms Maryann Talia Pau, the founder of One Million Stars to End Violence Project has urged the global community to continue her good work in encouraging everyone to end violence.
Let us help PWWS bring back the star in the eyes of every women and every children whose lives have been destroyed and altered by violence.Please send your stars to them at PWW:
The PWW Centre
15 Market Street
30000 Ipoh
Tel : 05-2469715Below is the link to learn how to make the stars :
//www.youtube.com/watch?v=qSjyDqztzaQFor more information, email at perakwomenforwomen@gmail.com
I am also calling out to all WP bloggers around Malaysia to help me share this cause to your followers and encourage them to participate.
Help save a life; weave a star!!!
“When you wish upon a Star,
Makes no difference who you are…”
-Jiminy Cricket, Walt Disney’s “Pinocchio”
Stars Fled From Your Eyes
stars fled from your eyes
and the shadow of death
cast upon your face
on this dark gloomy night
filled with goodbyes
and unending sighs
of a once promising life
stars fled from your eyes
and you stop dreaming
of what could have been’s
and what if’s
a future you may never see
for it has become so bleak
and gloomy
stars fled from your eyes
and it may never come back
unless you take the courage
to speak up
seek for help
and maybe, just maybe
start anew
stars fled from your eyes, no, not yet
We have been fascinated by the stars- those shiny bright, little five-pointed dots in the sky that has been illuminating, even before humans exist. It presents us with beautiful symbolism over…
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Still wrapped in blanket of soft innocence,
like a butterfly fresh from its cocoon,
a young breath given too short existence
by evil desire of a maniac goon.
A lifeless, cold shell wimps a wordless croon.
An animal act, perhaps it is not,
for mammals, reptiles, these kingdoms just ought
to kill to survive. But humans, we have
become brainless, salivating, cracked nuts,
drowned by earth’s urges, a shame of Above.
—
—
He walks ahead of me
with his old rucksack
and a carton box
he asked from
a store owner
politely.
A couple, giggling in front
of him, stopped laughing
to cross the road, perhaps
afraid of his dirt-filled
skin.
I trace his steps
under the faint moonglow
not to say a shy hello,
but to murmur a silent prayer
that he is off to
a roof where his
family’s love
flows,
until he stops
in an unlit corner of
the almost empty
walkway, tear his precious
box and make his bed
until the next
day.
My heart, a foreigner
on this man’s motherland,
aching to
come back home,
now breaks for him,
living in his country,
but without a house to call
his own.
—
anmol(alias HA)Patawad, Pilipinas
Hindi ako makakaboto bukas.
Ang mga paa ko’y nakaapak
sa isang malayong landas.
Kumakayod para sa pamilyang
hugutan ng lakas.
Subalit, Pilipinas,
dinig ko ang iyong hikbi.
Umiiyak din ang aking puso,
na para bang ako’y sawi
sa nakikitang mga pangalang
sa malamang ay magwawagi.
Oo, Pilipinas,
mahina ako sa Filipino.
Sa simpleng ng at nang
ako nga ay litong-lito,
subalit hinding hindi
sa mga taong dapat iboto.
Oo, Pilipinas,
nagtatanong din ako
kung bakit nga ba mas marami
ang boboto sa mga manloloko.
Marahil mas mainam ang kilala
kesa sa mga bago.
Oo, Pilipinas,
nakakatakot nga ang bukas.
Marahil may himala,
baka matalo ang likong pantas.
Baka ang nag-iisip,
sa wakas ay magsilabas.
Patawad pa rin, Pilipinas
hindi ako makakaboto bukas.
Baunin mo ang aking dasal
mula sa malayong landas.
Kainin ka man ng dilim bukas,
Pilipinas, hindi ito ang wakas.
Translation:
Forgive me, Philippines,
I cannot vote tomorrow.
My feet are stepped on
a far land where calm winds blow,
working for my family
the home where my strength grow.
But, Philippines,
I can hear you wimping.
My heart cries with you
like I am also breaking
to see those names
whom most may be voting.
Yes, Philippines,
my Filipino skills isn’t good.
In simple use of “ng” and “nang”,
I’m like lost in the woods,
but not on who to vote
for your greater good.
Yes, Philippines,
I am also wondering
why a lot will vote
for experts in plundering.
Perhaps old names are better
than a new beginning.
Yes, Philippines,
tomorrow is quite scary.
Perhaps, there’s miracle,
the fools will lose, maybe.
Perhaps those who think
will be heard finally.
Still, I am sorry, Philippines
I cannot vote tomorrow.
Please bring with you my prayers
from a far land where calm winds blow.
Even if the darkness wins tomorrow,
Philippines, this isn’t your end, no.
—
—
Please help me pray for my country.
Office ended today with some lashing
caused by sharp claws of ego
from a mouth whose mistakes
is something she cannot chew.
My burdened back carried
the weight of her spitted words,
as I drag my tired feet out
as if it was the end of the world.
After dinner, I went to buy water
and saw a man in dirty clothes,
gingerly counting his precious cents
to buy a ringgit of popsicle twirl.
Before leaving he asked
for a carton, discarded.
After getting the approval, he left,
with sweet cream ‘tween his gapped-teeth
without a single penny on his pocket,
but with jolly spring on his feet.
Perhaps the heaviness of life
is based on perspectives.
—
