tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105524502012-01-27T19:48:55.921-08:00Poetry and more...shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.comBlogger771100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-18641446054156601862011-11-25T08:17:00.001-08:002011-12-29T22:01:58.337-08:00

And wings I had all the way The skies were always open The clutter waiting to be cleared And fetters meant to be broken The stars always shone upon me The turbulent rivers on the underside The madness on a platter of dust It’s dancing shadow in my mind And I looked up for omens from angels And dreamt of greens and greys Of a spring time in my saddle In the fleeting moments of the day And no

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-61521014710708386662011-10-04T12:13:00.000-07:002011-10-17T07:39:19.132-07:00

It’s strange, the ways of life. The way we’re brought up with subliminal survivalist instincts bred into us right through our childhood. All those years that we’ve spent seeing people around us bargain. And we learnt to do that too. Bargain with the vegetable vendors and the rikshaw-pullers. Bargain with the innumerable people we meet on the streets to the ones working in our houses, cleaning the

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-54345774307941012112011-09-26T10:39:00.001-07:002011-09-26T10:39:36.293-07:00

The songs of the play-ground Rise up a knot and drape This rumbling hoot, weaving A dream of rhythmic tales Convinced all frog-kind are princes He croaks loud to greet the sun As a marching rabbit, the Mad-hatter Drops by to wiggle his bum The play-rules gets more chaotic They’re seeped in the daytime glee And commanding the aerial universe Is the tiny freckled Mr. Bee The chip and the

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-38436867878655094292011-09-14T12:18:00.001-07:002011-09-14T12:18:28.098-07:00

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-14123600722370554202011-09-12T03:34:00.000-07:002011-09-12T04:23:41.744-07:00

The little fountain blue and wide On the mountain's sunny side With the river on its toes And pixie-dust upon its bows Where sprightly little fishes flock past Over pebbles and water grass To their school in the magic pit Where they swim with all their grit I will one day be with them As the god of merry may-hem Elect the young to make all rules And keep the bullies out of school And when the

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-77496630103245171112011-08-05T22:52:00.000-07:002011-08-05T22:55:37.065-07:00

Down came a tear drop Rolling on the cheeks Seeking earth, with it's daunting mirth That fall was very steep Out came a timid sigh Steeped in the wounds of time All of mankind's casual liberties Reflecting in his stark decline All the years of greed and grandeur That had coloured the life of few men At the cost of agony to others And the sparse resources for zen We used it all and more We fed

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-31667812608624217412011-01-01T04:39:00.001-08:002011-01-01T04:39:17.503-08:00

A decade of hope, beckons. A season gone by reckoned. Time warps can take a rest. Tis the time to look ahead. ...Happy new year people

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-67931830012737703022010-06-23T03:37:00.000-07:002010-06-23T03:37:48.957-07:00

A beautiful post by a dear friend. On life and its real essence. And the kind of things which really matter but we inadvertently begin to take for granted http://richa-k.blogspot.com/2010/05/hmm.html

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-7952943238542526872010-06-22T03:48:00.001-07:002010-06-22T03:48:49.804-07:00

Olly Maple inspired my rhymes A country lad in bizarre times Rambled cause he loved his voice Olly Maple, my favourite boy Cared little for fiendish plots Lost in his brazen thoughts Phantoms of a world gone by Observed at stretch, the nothingness of skies And in the woods, his hidden shack A carnival of tricks on rustic racks And twigs and strings and jingles of joy Olly Maple, you were my

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-15707071924346482532010-03-19T16:43:00.001-07:002010-03-21T17:40:06.067-07:00

A lofty thought in the passing Makes me realize Days I have spent numb and distant And you have quietly stood by Hours I spoke on about me And glimpses of an uproar A thread of irrelevance Randomness and more Conversations out of sync And as chaotic as its been How can I make amends And tell you how much you mean to me

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-14900846478372659252010-01-20T04:06:00.000-08:002010-01-20T04:06:25.818-08:00

Free Verse Rehearse Walk free Dwell deep Make noise Keep your poise Greetings crowd Over and out

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-46424245585737195822010-01-17T05:53:00.003-08:002010-03-19T16:53:28.701-07:00

Post lunch solitary walks in wintry afternoons, the canopied roads bathing in sporadic waves of sunshine and the fluttering green leaves glistening in golden ushers with a perfectly untainted blue sky as a backdrop, life is as perfect as can get. And as I walk through the showers of sauntering yellow dry leaves kissing gravity every time the soft winds wake up the hibernating stalks, a thousand

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-69888254918257044022010-01-15T04:08:00.001-08:002010-01-17T00:49:47.061-08:00

A thousand whispers In a valley of chaos A parchment inked In radical thoughts A stream in mighty Land of droughts A shadow of twilight Might lead to the dawn

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-87681557418904038242010-01-15T03:47:00.001-08:002010-01-15T03:47:39.866-08:00

I have a lot of work. And backlogs. Assignments to submit. And an ambition to justify. A life was given to me. For all the same reasons it was given to you or anyone else. And yet the only defining principle is this pursuit of happiness. And in this pursuit of happiness, I feel a dwindling sense of reason. A basic logical flaw that contradicts all my motives. What is it that I wish to chase? Can

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-75983327614555102342009-11-18T05:50:00.000-08:002010-03-19T17:00:56.858-07:00

The leafy carpet is breached Streaming through this morn Rays infiltrating past the leaves The greys are gone And delighted these quaint streets With silent lacing charms Of a playful zephyr treat Sunlit, breathing in an autum calm

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-13393478437708248022009-08-25T15:47:00.000-07:002009-08-25T15:47:02.243-07:00

I build pictures Life does, rather Day after day after day Things emerge As old ones purge Gradually, they accumulate People come In packs and lumps And life moves on somehow Sporadic thirsts For new suburbs Slowly begins to crowd This mind that thinks Questions me Of turns and bends and twists And little though My share has been I still can’t answer like a blitz And as we grow A little

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-73173098644088501702009-08-22T11:55:00.001-07:002009-08-22T11:55:46.489-07:00

The sun rises Over grey surprises Conifers pellucid Rustling leaves elusive The thirsty lands Virgin drops fall on sand An exhilarating wave A trampoline day Scaling notes The asymptotes A ticking clock Dreams knock A relentless start A happy heart The wind on my face A trampoline day Questioning voices Maverick choices A rebellious spree Breaking free Drenched in reasons Resurrecting a

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-42761004866234652512009-07-14T13:34:00.000-07:002009-07-14T13:48:18.825-07:00

Inks sculpting againThere’s much that unseenEngrossed, steadilyPenning down a dreamAnd darkness growsBreathing in oblivionGlances of the maverickWashed away by the setting sunThe sand flowsMoulded by seasonswet and drenchedTrying to look for a reasonAnd the world slowlyShapes, reshapesBeginning to find symphony inthe undefined maze

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-68947943480652463052009-05-29T00:17:00.000-07:002011-08-13T06:20:15.441-07:00

There came a pouring sky And poured its yellow tray To fill the colours that The leaves of fall await The pallet had yet more It brewed an orange furore A tiny drop of which Crept into the sky’s ambit Then came the darkness cold And the colours began to fade So splattered a pinch of gold Sparkling, nestled lush and stray And as the birds began to chirp The stars tucked into the white On the

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-45319712966189392922008-04-29T13:31:00.000-07:002008-04-29T14:13:23.825-07:00

I set foot on the grassThat grew in the wildThe darkness whispered Like a wandering child The night allowed The moon to sail Across the woods Illuminating my way A unicorn galloped Silver and frail I followed it To be led to a lake Canopied, which stole A solitary ray through Forming a reflection Of an enchanting moon Then, chirped a little bird As was dawn about to break

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-56576322574755681432008-03-13T22:29:00.000-07:002008-03-17T13:22:36.662-07:00

I was just going through my old diary which I had written just after my 10th class board exams (those days I was quite inspired by Anne Frank), when I came across lines describing my journey to Shillong and the east just after my 10th boards. And even though my writing skills were not half as good as they are now (grin), I still fell in love with east all over again. And since no one ever is

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-84668212998814078932007-09-15T10:14:00.000-07:002008-08-01T00:28:17.405-07:00

First there was lightAnd then perpetual darknessNow we are blindedFalling through a cold abyssIt’s a full houseOf blinded menRunning all aroundShouting on the countVoices from cornersReasserting they existOf a world heavilyEnveloped by this mistThere’s a massacreSomewhere westSignals and wavesGlorying the messPrayers somewhere,Blinded the restLike parasitesRiding on the crestA bleeding earthA

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-47809896056610446432007-08-23T10:58:00.000-07:002007-08-23T10:59:18.372-07:00

Rains came alongAnd the songs changedThe dawn of the spellLashing down window panesAnd sparkling sunThe trickling beadsPearls streaming downMy balconyNow they are goneLeaving behindA valley aliveA naïve crimeThe songs change againAs the earth grows ripeAnd flowers bloomUnder the weathered skyThe leaves yellowFlown by the zephyrSing under the canopyOf mahogany and eucalyptusSinging youngThe song

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-37543782088248663862007-06-09T12:39:00.000-07:002007-06-09T12:40:43.264-07:00

I asked her to a ballShe was such a doll.All said and done She’s gotten me appalledAnd the dancing was fine. Very refined Her moves were perfect. But not the movement of her eyesThere were more onlookersBefore I knewLooking at us dance Like I was the undeserving beauAnd then came a boy And another while I was still thereBefore the turn of the hourIt was an aficionado fairLittle while laterWhen I

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-44928480599216487612007-06-01T04:23:00.001-07:002007-06-01T04:56:07.941-07:00

Poems are too manyof rains and butterfliesSo this once, of tempestI set out to writeThe tormenting rains fellSoaking grains of sandIn unison they mergedThe sky and the landThe intrepid windFostering all their mightA leap of knotsTo match the stormy nightAnd windows prattled bizarreBesieged and bareThe crescent moon canopiedBy the nights intimidating fareLoud and insane The winds continued to

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-51940174472722327832007-02-03T09:50:00.000-08:002008-09-28T01:56:26.567-07:00

Another coupA little landA mighty lossFor those grains of sandA wretched sleepAnd evil dreamsAmbitious threatsA sore historyTreason bareFight succumbsFeeding on life’sWicked crumbsHopes moribundOr maybe bleedsOr waiting toget some reprieveAnd slipping downSome may liveA story to tellOr a hollow dipA somber graveOr another waveThe rise may seeOr may see no dayThis mire will lastMaybe not soThe

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-9146478191885998812007-01-29T05:15:00.000-08:002007-01-29T05:16:37.245-08:00

Subtle dreamsCrowded streetsPresumptuous warsProliferating fleetsCrimes on riseA little priceA trapdoorBefore the final bleedThe sun may setA little westBut all’s darkWhatever’s leftYou walkIn the rainCry aloneWhen it painsBut before You can hear meYou would beLying slainGo fetch a basementAnd sleep a spellThe best of betsMight save you hellFor stories have itA brighter dayFor those who liveWhen

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-49267691655070140202007-01-02T23:52:00.000-08:002007-01-03T00:02:58.253-08:00

My folks always were very ambitious about my ambitions. The pushing, boasting, normal parent like parents. I somehow still managed to live through all that and escape all all those aggrandizing virtues that such pressures ideally develop in kids. Lazy impractical ignorant, I was all of that. But yet an inherent part of the ghastly gruesome rat race. It takes quite a high degree of tolerance to be

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1165810748736455082006-12-10T20:18:00.000-08:002006-12-10T20:21:46.453-08:00

Winter songsDon’t just hum alongOn stormy daysAt the start of dawnsPainting what preludesOf all thats maybe goodDeliberate confessionsThough far from truthWaking me in my dreamsCanopying over what seemsunreal indistinctA subconscious blinkAnd maybe someday Ill walk into that forayWhere probing soundsDon’t mellow the greyAnd music thrivesMaking the air aliveDevoid of all blinding forcesOf a

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1158605958333190952006-09-18T11:54:00.000-07:002006-09-18T11:59:18.386-07:00

You want the sounds to cease, don’t youSmother them withAll that you doIt infiltrates thoughEvery now and then Through the wall you build, my frienddo what you cansee to it that it standsall walls on several such landsand when the noise still erupt againflee in agonyrun away in vainand then that you madewill come for youknow where you hideand close in onto youthe sound then willsound loud like

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1158604457560687432006-09-18T11:33:00.000-07:002006-09-18T11:34:17.573-07:00

Little did I knowSummer grew on soA bit of historyAnd a collapsible foeBut are you diseasedEmotionally breachedDo I intimidate youStay away if I doI know no signsAnd definitely no crimesThat you might defineTo suit your confineStay away, I careIt’s a season of despairWant no more to arriveStay away till you can strive

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1151514371787215802006-06-28T10:04:00.001-07:002006-06-28T10:06:11.786-07:00

Music growsFrom the start of timeThe starting pointTo the ending lineSolemn tidesWash the shoreWiping freshLike it never boreAnd so I build Yet againHoping tides won’t reachBut in vainAnd crimson skiesTurn to a blueBlindly followingThe music tooBut when the warStarts, I begTo be shotAnd not be ledOr when it will ceaseLet me go homeTo that song That I so adore

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1150888698111509472006-06-21T04:17:00.000-07:002006-06-21T04:18:18.143-07:00

Deep within the woodsAhead of the canopyLay a country quiteAnd very petiteNurtured by summer rainsAnd the winter sunBound by mountainsThe great ransomDale, flourished longIn ignorance ofWhat lay beyond…Across the gorgeAnd in these realmsWhere wine and cherriesAnd farms of mushroomsWere ever in bloomWas born Josephine The daughter of a knightAnd as tales recountThe kingdom’s child With dark locks,

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1150833495355798232006-06-20T12:57:00.000-07:002006-06-20T12:58:15.373-07:00

A summer, the bellsRang loud a chimeThe familiar old soundRecounting all good timesTaking me floatingThrough the corridorsOf memories, musicLiving again the loreStuck in this momentI wish time Would cease to beWhile the sublimeCircles of joyElevate againLosing me inThose array of lanesAnd under this roofI can live several such livesWhere a symphony nurturesAnd the mind wanders alive

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1150709243703050912006-06-19T02:18:00.000-07:002011-12-30T12:31:35.551-08:00

I came this far Thinking all is good In all eventuality, finally I had gotten over you I thrived on thee A wave of myth A segment of self denial For you wouldn’t care to be with But its ironic how trifles Can still provoke such wrath When otherwise through enormities I can numbly steer across I tried reasoning, I fled I grieved, even as I said Tried to surface and delude Thinking, that might

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1150492583477469632006-06-16T14:14:00.000-07:002006-06-16T14:16:23.490-07:00

I used to be this kid with a bad handwriting, fairly okay grades and a best friend in standard 1. We were in Zakhama, a field station in the east, and dad being a doc in the army, we had an ambulance for a school bus. Abhishek bhayya, my neighbor, was in 10th grade and awfully fond of pulling my leg in the ambulance rides to school and back. He would often call me names like grumpy nut cracker (

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1145721882017515202006-04-22T08:53:00.000-07:002006-04-22T09:04:42.026-07:00

They told meIts just soAn elaborate cageBefore you can see what's in storeThe beach layOn the other side of the wall And beyond the bridgeAn inviting mountain sprawlThen one dayI just sailed awayFlew against snow flakesInto the forayAnd stayed up for days In a rowSaw my eyes go redUnder those browsSaw the lashing skyPour down all its wrathLike unreasonable tearsThose insane dropsSaw crimson

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1145721093205142132006-04-22T08:50:00.000-07:002006-04-22T08:51:33.226-07:00

I am a million different peopleAnd a million namesI am a symphonyAn intensifying chainI am a writerThe young wiseAn artiste, a travelerA connoisseur of lifeI am a protagonistThe born championA conquerer by fateI am the COEPian

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1143366802148098092006-03-26T01:52:00.000-08:002006-03-26T01:53:22.476-08:00

the day it rainedand all voids were filledthat soaking leaf and that petal thrilleda tryst with rhymea musical treataccustomed, the drops nurtured innocent greedthe prism infinitethe sweet symphonyi raised a toast to that faceless gravityand the rivulets racedthe thunders cursedas stubborn terrainswere lazily transversedthen the ground beneathacquiesced to the flowindented engulfedand devoured

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1137597907371890562006-01-18T07:24:00.000-08:002010-03-03T14:47:25.676-08:00

I use to love walking zig zag on the empty inclined winding roads of Zakhama. A field station in the east command of military, this tinsel town lay nested in the dormant pellucid laps of the lower Himalayas. One could literally gaze down from the edges only bound by roughly shaped white boulders sticking out of the earth lanes on either sides of the concrete to view Kohima, the capital of

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1137253649723016482006-01-14T07:46:00.000-08:002006-01-14T07:47:29.740-08:00

Its been quite longAnd I havent writtenThey say the lethargic springCan have people quite smittenAll popular songsare already exhaustedlyrics plagiarizedand incorporated my creativity hasconveniently taken leavewhy do all the rotten things at the wrong time besiegebut then time aint good when all thats wrong unlidsso again the last inferenceis bigtime invalidk , I quitthis aint leading

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1136960917403272672006-01-10T22:28:00.000-08:002006-01-10T22:28:37.416-08:00

they dont make womenthe perfect dainty eleventoboyish nearly allambition is their call over a day-out in the mallBut off late we've been filling in for their lost trend

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1136959043452659142006-01-10T21:56:00.000-08:002006-01-10T21:57:23.463-08:00

Match maker match maker …make me a matchGet me some cashLet me fly the world in a balloonLove all night under the moonThe she yells “stop dreaming, or we’ll crash”

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1136913516881923562006-01-10T09:14:00.000-08:002006-01-10T09:23:56.640-08:00

Watch it kid. I shreaked. That damn three year old hurtled down with my basketball aiming it at my computer like giving me ultimatums. That’s it. Three year olds weren’t goanna have there baby’s-day-out at my place. I was just going to do an ultimate favor for his lazy unbothered parent. I was going to serve him right for all his wicked-ness. “Here Anshul. Do you want this bar too? ”, I said

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1136828472045570652006-01-09T09:40:00.000-08:002006-01-09T09:41:12.063-08:00

This is one of my first limericks everAnd I don’t claim it to be too cleverBut while I lastHopefully some might be castIn a popular newspaper

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1136822405853317592006-01-09T07:59:00.000-08:002006-01-09T08:00:05.853-08:00

A 19 year old girl , I had my first smoke.By 20 I literally drunk and doped.I oversped like hellBroke every signalYesterday I died young- now that slogans no joke

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1136822371254622452006-01-09T07:58:00.000-08:002006-01-09T07:59:31.266-08:00

I had asked him out to coffeeand even bought him swiss toffeesbut then lavishly did I landto discover no wallet in my pantsand now these dishes are my trophy

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1136217797724224622006-01-02T08:00:00.000-08:002006-01-02T08:03:17.740-08:00

the winter subsidesa subtle driftthis gentle brushis of a shallow mista feeble tapand a spring floats ina spliter remainsbut, silent and grim.the resting curtainthe stabbing veilthe conceiling windowfall back staleI defy conventionsI savour when numbarrowdynamics of my lifecraves for another plunge

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1135518662196734222005-12-25T05:50:00.000-08:002005-12-25T05:51:02.196-08:00

8’o clock sharpstereotype classesThen algorithms for evangelism and massesA paradigm designedFor emotional automationA bio-port hauls himTo a classroom stationSurvival is contagious Is a lesson he’s learnt in timeDoctrined againstAll forces sublimeThe threads of thought are more virtual than believedThe louder the tearsThe lesser is the griefBut his life aint a blastOne which Jetson might just

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1135099552922395072005-12-20T09:25:00.000-08:002005-12-20T09:25:52.933-08:00

Strike a chordWith my thoughtsThey flow provokedIn the forbidden landLet the creedOf my religionDissolve awayRight out of my handsChoose a fireNot loud and brightBut a ferventIntense blueLet the flamePerform the last rights Salvage my kindOf sins that lie imbuedEcho the chantThat never failsFor the arc is madeAnd its yet not rainedUnleash your angerRevive your empireCremate the shadowsIn the

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1134462325882241022005-12-13T00:23:00.000-08:002005-12-13T00:25:25.906-08:00

Gina was an ordinary british girl. She would steal a look into the bright dishes after washing them. They reflected her auburn face and added their own silverfish tinge to it. She could write, do maths and play football all of which weren’t noble occupations for a girl her age, or at least so all the ladies in her house told her. She worked in ‘the eagle and a child’ in oxford at a time the

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1134328776218962332005-12-11T11:18:00.000-08:002005-12-11T11:19:36.230-08:00

A dip in the canvasand a mosaic buildsTracesOf this reverieAre enough to killI try to believeBut it fails to sinkA tear transpiresRetreats on reaching the brinkThat cornerI stand aloneTrying to annihilateEvery memory of your tone That forgotten porch blinded by its veilsI plead it towash me in its obliterating raysThe empty dishesThe listless robeThe frolicking antsThe lightning boltTheir

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1134197913166190332005-12-09T22:57:00.000-08:002005-12-09T22:58:33.176-08:00

It was noon. I had been walking in the winter sun for more than an hour now. ‘Electric storm’ was storming my head as the beats synchronized my steps. I was in a trance, oblivious to whatever was happening around, even my own emotions. Just then I bumped into him. I shifted my gaze and began to remove my ear pieces, pretending, in vain as tears violently began to stream down my eyes betraying

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1134062569209387382005-12-08T09:22:00.000-08:002005-12-08T09:23:03.193-08:00

The day is freshWinter , yet nascent The morning wetIts breathing meantTo brutallyhurt a nerveAnd I can , but lament…I wish to stareBut the tears wont stopI wait to blinkBut my eyes feel foggedI cant reflectThe spotlight glaresAnd miles away liesThe idealism I wish to bareThe lost is notWhat I hope to reviveThe confessions I choose to makenot just to surviveI cant care lessWhat the world bellowsI

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1131284872612478082005-11-06T05:47:00.000-08:002005-11-06T05:47:52.623-08:00

The sunshine calenderThe one that wadesHave you seen it closelyIt mumbles… “bring on the dates”The specky alarm clockThe nerdish look is to deludeNights , in the closetIt does a tap dance…though crudeThe old porch benchThe one that loudly creaksIt flies to lands over the cloudsOn rainy days …when everyone’s asleepThe obsolete radioThat lies in the garageEver seen it play with the spiders Musical

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1131268758552260012005-11-06T01:18:00.000-08:002005-11-06T01:19:18.566-08:00

This DecemberInnocent veils will learn to flywill revealWhat beneath them liesMelancholy chambersConfining stormsWill encroch no moreWhere they don’t belongThis DecemberElectrical storms will raidAs ill rest In my hammock of dreamsNo painsNo animosityThe slumber will stipulateWhat I long from thee…This December I’llUnshackle from woes Meandering memoriesTrembling toes

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1130930009787210902005-11-02T03:13:00.000-08:002005-11-02T03:13:29.806-08:00

Hey…It’s been quite long; I haven’t written anything…or at least anything substantial.I was just getting bored; you see that’s what diwali is actually for. Kids burn crackers, mom nags, and I get to head the beautification drive. The dusting away of previous rangolis, the scrubbing off crayon marks from kitchen walls and telephone shelves, running behind dogs and shoo-ing them off your garden

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1130507982100049282005-10-28T06:59:00.000-07:002005-10-28T06:59:52.670-07:00

Transient supernovasblast my skyScarred boulevardsbarren , they lie...Shuddering rainsfall no moreFlashes of hopeperrinially wiped off by these warsCreatures of wrathRaid my landLash through my veinsHelpless...I standWho do I forgive?What do I look for?This monster in meis killing me more...The army gathersThe questions multiplyThe beggining thats lostCan it be revived?Abandoned homesEphemeral

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1130492555138957782005-10-28T02:41:00.000-07:002005-10-28T02:46:26.310-07:00

Lacing throughthe wildernessLosing myself inthe trance of blind blissI stay wildFly with the greenKnock at the doors of xionAnd then dive into infinityEcho of the silenceUntouched by the blinding lights of urbansNo strings attachedI have come undoneHome isLight years awayA speck of dust…Then a gust washes my faceNo! no nostalgiaNo déjà vusNo shattered dreamsNo vindication tooCrashing rains ,Meet

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1124013011747931262005-08-14T02:47:00.000-07:002005-08-14T02:51:43.516-07:00

God hits him hardSmack…hes no egomaniacbloodyhis fate liesdrenched all the waydown the tracksthe filth of the streetskiss his nude needshe endorsessucks down its forcesthat trikles down its creedmoney licking losers as they surroundakin to famished houndsbark and growlalbeit he remainsundetteredun-tethered to the fowl

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1123352209239994202005-08-06T11:14:00.000-07:002005-08-06T11:33:15.380-07:00

Lights go outIn the murky skyZephyr dies downIts a barren timeObtrusive galesBlock my wayBoulevard is dustyGathers torrential trailsHaunts…your wraithMellows downSpeaks to meLike messenger of the crownForlorn traveler I … sought your landLingering my gazeRests weary on your sands Your memory softlyBegins to fadeReinforcing wavesDo not tiradePushing throughThe closing wallsSprinting oceansOf

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1122582149855750702005-07-28T13:21:00.001-07:002005-07-28T13:22:29.856-07:00

the folowing poem has been ritten envisaging a typical day in the life of tom sawyer ...1 of my fav literary characters Mild sober strewn wavesZephyr cradled to craveRain drops relocateRhizomes to infiltrateIdiosyncratic days Fly in fly outThe clock ticksWith a straddle around its bowLucid I lie Unde the candid skyWaiting for winds of changeTo hurtle down my lane

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1122582103050955352005-07-28T13:21:00.000-07:002005-07-28T13:21:43.050-07:00

The trickling dropsGarnish earth grainsThe abyss legitimatelyHarbors nascent rainsThe squirrels squeakAnd playfully mateAs monsoon in a nuptialWeds PuneLike a veiled brideShe tarries on blindThe silver moonlightForbidden to encroach her confineThe courtship on cardsRejuvenates her youthStalwart antagonists tooForfeit without a feudZephyr …docileLingers…intrudesStreets…shaken off its slumberThe

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1122582069413174232005-07-28T13:20:00.000-07:002005-07-28T13:21:09.413-07:00

Gather my country men This ain’t no ordinary lesson No raving Barbies, no ranting kens Just a discourse on Indian rapscallions Amen Yet again .Mr. L.Yadav Our local scum bag Has gotten away With his insidious tag With Bihar assembly dissolved Democracy stalled The states on the dole And he yet manages to brag The RSS and the VHP Flamboyantly crusade Advanni endorses nascent policies And BJP

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1122582002406985462005-07-28T13:19:00.000-07:002005-07-28T13:20:02.406-07:00

They say.. the hunter dignified left the town and them mystified so long unacquainted to heartbreaks they had grown too vain their fabric fake now in the face of misery reeling from the dreary mystery they took to weeping blaming hevens and gradually it dawned on them so long they had prided looks alone jeered countenances except their own and now pale thin with willowy eyes they looked all but

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1122581952030314422005-07-28T13:17:00.000-07:002005-07-28T13:19:12.036-07:00

Oh reader…what do you look for A poem..a tale ..a dialogue?? Deliver..i will..the sort That enslaves you…trot trot There were two lassies Jenny and jane Brandishing beauty And flowing manes Merchants and shepheards Drew to their lanes Showered love and gold But all in vain Then came a hunter Not thin not stout With bows and arrows But cupids drought The bloke he was Called nimrod of south But

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1117704817779644982005-06-02T02:33:00.000-07:002005-06-02T02:35:52.383-07:00

A shadowy eveningIts on broadcastThe overcastMoves along The thunder ..fastSilver lining Don’t explainI knew u were never saneAlbeit the universeTrudges on lines of fameFaster ..in hasteEncompassing the reference frameIf phycosis is the baseInclude me in the raceCradled ..no..dont disgraceInherited ..coherentlyThe worlds but a small placeLends an apetite for crazeIts just a matter of timeSpeeding

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1117646743078636832005-06-01T10:25:00.000-07:002005-06-01T10:26:21.513-07:00

lost in an abiguous traillacing through a numb crowdbruised mutilated ..hovering dilapidatedalchemy fails like an arid cloudcremation starts a liltoo late in septemberand the fires of funeralremain alone to warm your airembers of your broken youthmay make hay in sepulchral decembercast to be cursedcrippled ..you can complain ..can starei will see you endurebut wont reach outthe cold will graspn

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1109800237703614312005-03-02T13:50:00.000-08:002005-03-02T13:50:51.330-08:00

Built, braced, brokenAmbitions, ashes, tokensInfinity, speck, stolenSoar, splinters, spokenDestiny, dreams, triggersConduit, cremate, stuporStoic, stumble, shatterOblivion, trance, deliver

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1109520677177964942005-02-27T08:09:00.003-08:002005-02-27T08:19:34.326-08:00

Preliminary fearsCrowd her mindSought a gatewaymoisten with sublimedeliberate movesAround the browIn crude endevoursSeeking the earthGray heavens..RiseCurtain her tearsLet your furyDrown her fearsEscort her And reverberateIllusions whichPainfully sear Heavens …. Pour downAs she bitterly weepsEmbrace herAmid all animosityThe lane’s bareOblivion staresVulnerable Like a virginShe cannot dare

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1108807636844730452005-02-19T02:05:00.000-08:002005-02-19T02:07:35.496-08:00

Singing plunging….My love is hopelessly drenchingAnd the trickles fall apart…Eyes are too beautiful to start…But summer kills me bcoz I m all I can ask to beJust the one whose missing …and I prayHold on till I make my waySenseless themes play aboutSome are calm and mysteriousDreamy morns…I love such dawns…Do u? Not that I really want to know…So wait and sayAll compliments…Lay a galoreI love em

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1107879625836500762005-02-08T07:39:00.000-08:002005-02-08T08:20:46.303-08:00

Certainly feburary has a certain inherent romance....which prevails and rejuviniates....the melencholy airs of December and January...... Undoubtedly ...it has its own tranquuil horrors 2...which are unleashed in the former half of the month./..when the much awaited...sporadically debated and controvercially gratedresults of winter semester....are released....Yet post that ruddy encounter...its

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1107803976338790332005-02-07T11:18:00.000-08:002005-02-08T12:18:41.646-08:00

....dynamicity brings with itself adrenaline...and excitation...n nervousness.......all of these so rocked me when i had 1st stepped in to coep.....but as days proceeded...n life in the coll bcomes stale...i already seem 2 b developing some sort of a lethargy..... shirking from work..non nerdishness were always...a prominent harmonal activity rendered by my genetic build up...... in other words..

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1107269687607169442005-02-01T06:54:00.000-08:002005-02-01T06:55:06.280-08:00

..As I sat redaing the last few chapters of wuthering heights...I felt if one actualy took up the job of making it a movie ...the novel...n the singers were to make one of those "ost" songs...then how wud it be......so I just facinated n wrote something.........n wen I read it now...I do find it a lil weird.....I mean...the poem is extremely emotional....n..amusing if ur not in a very depressed

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1107269620329658692005-02-01T06:51:00.000-08:002005-02-01T06:54:09.193-08:00

Europa mythology is old zeus is now bold how will you carry her off to Cretes she says now her new love is euphrates how will u carry her off to Cretes You sing en even song or bring a hair lock dangling on your face but how will you carry her off to cretes. You sing lyrics to the tune of lure or you bring her hot dried prumes a primrose is not all that she needs.... go bring

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1107268950028200312005-02-01T06:38:00.000-08:002005-02-01T06:46:18.493-08:00

.........................Abstract poetry ...sounds like this With an invisible ordor through which peeps sunny clouds of a december morn freshly washed by the winter song..... Break of the day is sinking and look the valleys are blinking so full , the mayhem softly infiltrates my senses likewise..surrounds my soul...and drenches In my happy felicity Unaware of any inadequacy flying like a

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10552450.post-1107267958331916492005-02-01T06:20:00.000-08:002005-02-01T06:45:34.516-08:00

My version of love Is a fantasy ride And if prepared To mount the tide I grant thee The lease to see The hallucinations.. Of this brighter night People say….its endless pain Throbbing in all cupid veins… Others claim…its endless joy Killing with its royal poise I cant say If its only devotion Calm gravity betrays The works of adrenaline in motion … WhenDrops of rain Splash eyelids Carve

shrutihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09983592261333707864noreply@blogger.com1