Saturday, December 22, 2018

As A Ponderer Ponders

For I have always been a seeker, a dreamer, and a ponderer on seeking and dreaming...
H.P. Lovecraft,
Night Ocean et autres nouvelles

© Aleksandar Slavković
Standing tall on a rooftop
Observing city skyline
Sundown and birds flying by
Labyrinth of highways
Rush of wheeled machines
Everyone's on move
Running to somewhere
From someone, feeling
Like being in quicksand

Continuously reminding myself
Gazing at prospects
Of future to foresee
Brooding over past
and its perplexities
Where do these
Ever changing roads lead?
Forwards or backwards
Inwards or outwards
Promise and possibilities
Doubt and uncertainties
Standing tall on a rooftop
I ponder 

Friday, June 22, 2018

Uncertainty of Humanity

On the whole human beings want to be good, but not too good, and not quite all the time.
― George Orwell

Player of cruel jokes
For a while it ponders
All wrongs and favors
Deeply it seeps, intently
Many hearts is pokes
Then, it wanders
Across wide plains
Meandering along facts
Seeking attention.
Often fizzles out
Sometimes, by choice
It just ignores

Thursday, March 29, 2018

An Instant Is Enough

Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant.
Joan Didion,
The Year of Magical Thinking

They say an instant is enough
To act, commit, decide, express
Years in making
Memories of merged moments
Trickles down to a second
A tipping point
Things go either down or
Soars all the way up
Many such probable paths
Some crowded, some lonely
Ordinary instants
Endless possibilities
They say an instant is enough
To react, desist, defer, conceal
Years in making
Still, ordinarily
An instant is enough

Thursday, March 22, 2018

How many people I've looked

I wonder how many people I've looked at all my life and never seen.
John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

Do I look up to you
Struggle for words
Frames and formations
Do I overlook everything else
None of me makes any sense
Nothing of you makes sense
Paucity of passions
Empty of emotions
I travel with so many
Many faces I've known
Nothing of them I know
Do you look up to me
and find words
Does a glance of me
Gives away any sense
or everything is lost upon

Sunday, September 17, 2017

Has It Always Been Like this?

We're all islands shouting lies to each other across seas of misunderstanding.”
Rudyard Kipling, The Light That Failed

© Paula Cortes
Has it always been like this?
Such silences seeped in between
Puzzled pause amidst breaths
Weaving of ways and means
What did you really say?
Layered hints seeped in between
Roaming in renewed realms 
Chasing pleasures she said
Has it always been like this?
Absurd demands seeped in between
Memories look so different now
As if seen from another time
Why are you not getting this?
Pure intent seems lost in between.

Sunday, July 16, 2017

I dream my painting and I paint my dream.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.

© Iva Borisova
Am I chasing dreams in circles?
One ends another starts
Beginning after the end
I fancy many faces
Each peculiar than other
To live so many lives
Each different than another
Can I swim in all the oceans?
Not all at once, but
Maybe one at a time.

Yes I crave all of it
Lights sounds visuals and touches
No strings of times and spaces
Across the length and breadth
Height thickness contrast and bright
All of it runs in circles
Concentric and conjoined
Can I mill around them all?
Not all at once, but
Maybe one at a time.

Saturday, July 8, 2017

Who Designed It?

“What kind of idea are you? Are you the kind that compromises, does deals, accomodates itself to society, aims to find a niche, to survive; or are you the cussed, bloody-minded, ramrod-backed type of damnfool notion that would rather break than sway with the breeze? – The kind that will almost certainly, ninety-nine times out of hundred, be smashed to bits; but, the hundredth time, will change the world.”
Salman Rushdie,
The Satanic Verses

Does really,
really this world conspires
against all your gut
against all that you hold dear

may be

who designed it ?
where it came from ?
was it designed that way ?

or it became over the time
to coerce all in to
patterns and standards
from where it came?
all the diktats
all the rules and rates

can we really forget
what is dear to us
follow another being's path?
or we make a niche.



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