Isn’t it horrifying to see banal notions of honour that were/are practised – Honour killing, love jihad, dress code? Versed as a poem titled “Honour”.
Torn and troubled by current happenings, I resort to word-smithing poetry to vent it, blissfully enjoying the process and staying in the middle.
Rapid growth is creating more wants, making the world more strident, nature less iridescent and people more decadent.“No more wants” is my creative take on how I am responding to this shrill world.
In these times where media is loud, shrill and scary, what can one do ? Well I just twist it and make fun of it creating sillycon* . Disaffected, as I am the ‘Bard of sillycon’.
As I hurtle through life , I suddenly feel a distinct shift of times. Forward we would to say and believe, it feels retrograde to me. Powered by tech, fuelled by greed, mangled by past, confused by modernism, it just seems less human. Am I becoming old & senile? Maybe. My creative take on this as “Now & Then”, a reaction to the news, views, behaviours, reactions that pounds us daily.
Life was simple with everything familiar. With a surfeit of information from TV & Internet, life became walled into many compartments. My creative on this as “familiar”.
Being ordinary is a blessing, I realised after an intense experience. Penned as a crisp 28-word brevity poem “Ordinary”.
Softly he caressed her
She opened her heart
He gently stroked
Face shattered and swollen
Immobile at ICU bed
Wired, tubed, I let go everything
Mindful, time stretched infinite
I saw Paradise
I guess namma citizens in Bengaluru are happy. “At last I am back where I belong, in the traffic jam.” The waits at signals are getting longer, the city is getting back to norma.
silicon social distancing in traffic – solpa adjust maadi Saar (please adjust Sir).