muses and meanderings: poetry

Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Wednesday, 24 May 2017

Absence

ABSENCE

["Absence" is a poetic piece i originally composed in Nepali: one of a few, rare, poetic compositions i had originally done in Nepali and later translated into English. A lot of people speaking in a video inspired me to read out this poem on YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MMle6pFrNzk

My voice does not sound beautiful, or attractive, or pleasant — a hoarsely croaking throat as that of a frog suffering from cold! And that too required my waiting until late night hours for a couple of days to record the audio on my mobile phone: man-made noises fill the air around me most of the time and that disturbs my peace, my quietude, my concentration!!

The text, the video clips, the audio, all are my original. The video clips were filmed on an Android handset and later combined and edited.

"Absence" is a void of desperation, an emptiness of being alone (not that of choosing to be, but...), a weariness that oftentimes hits us all; and the tiredness, the defeat, the giving up, the surrender... i try to fill it with what i can create (otherwise i have far fewer privileges! ), and fell grateful for what there is; otherwise there is not much in there!!! There is an absence...

In all this absence, thank you for being.]

-----------------

at once

a loss of existence!

picked up by some stranger

and pocketed along

a road to an alien land!

dropped somewhere

i, a friend for play!

Time’s overflow

but closed by Death’s embrace!

a bridge between two worlds

crossed over

again and again!

unheld tight to some bosom

and thrown away from

the very heart!

but still

grasped by some unknown hand

to be filled once

with an empty life!

somewhere,

someplace

under manhunt,

i, the unfound one!

in between life and death,

among crowd after crowd

of people, i,

the unassimilated one!

and yet entangled

alone in a stranger web

a sky that had wept without tears!

i am,

and yet i am not!

unwoven

ash after a dream!

just as such

the absence that is me,

nowhere noplace

the un-existence that is me!

of relations

of connections

among the whirlwinds of them all

i, the untolerated one

the non-existent one

the un-present one

the absence…

silence…!

*** --- *** --- ***

कुनै समय

कतै हराएको मान्छे म!

कुनै अपरिचितले टपक्क टिपेर

पोल्टामा राखि हिँडेको---

गुमनाम देशको बाटो!

कतै फुत्त खसेको

म, एउटा खेल्ने साथी!

समयको बाढी

मृत्यूले काखी च्यापेको म!

पटक पटक ओहोर दोहोर गरेको

दुई दुनियाँको साँघु!

कसैले उठाएर छातीमा टाँस्न नसकेको

मनदेखि कतै फ्याँकिएको म!

तर पनि

कसैले च्पाप्प हात समातेर

एक पटकलाई भरिएको रित्तो जिवन!

कहिँ

कतै

खोज्दा खोज्दै

नभेटिएको म!

जिवन र मरणको बिचतिर

मानिसहरुको भिड्---

तर पनि कतै नसमेटिएको म!

एक्लै एक्लै एउटा अनौठो जालोमा अल्झेर

बिना आँसु रोएको आकाश!

म छु

र पनि छैन।

नसँगालिएको,

सपना पछिको खरानी!

यस्तै यस्तै नभएको म,

कहिँ कतै नरहेको म!

नाता र सम्बन्धको

भुमरीहरु माझ

कहिँ कसैले नसहेको म!

हुँदै नभएको म,

कतै नरहेको म!!

* * * * * * *

(Poem originally written in English; later translated into Nepali by the author. © Subarna Prasad Acharya, 2016, 2017; all rights reserved. Read out on YouTube by the author. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MMle6pFrNzk )

Monday, 9 June 2014

Faces of Emotions

Faces

Emotions are fluid: they melt, they flow, they solidify, they harden... It all reflects upon the conditions we find ourselves in, the experiences we gather as life progresses. Sometimes we cry, sometimes we get angry, sometimes, we feel pain, bitterness, angst... and sometimes we really feel over the moon. Sometimes we show it, sometimes we don't. Some of our faces reflect the emotions swelling inside us, some of us don't, and yet it is universal: suffering is what makes our emotions flow. We do not intend to, consciously, but subconsciously we let it go, we let it express on the outside.

We let it flow, we let it drop, we let it freeze, we let it pour, we let it drip, one by one, we let it swell, splash, crack... against the inevitable in a fit of bitterness, we let it melt again, and again...

We yearn for something, we hope, we dream, we plan and yet we live our lives without choices: life is the strange bird which flies with the wind. It knows how to beat its wings but it cannot go against the flow. No way! It cannot be dictated, directed, channelized, controlled: it just happens. The flow then, in a sense, dictates how its wings beat. If there were such a market where emotions could be sold and bought, if it was really possible for such a market to exist, what emotions would you have? What would you choose? What would you go for?? Which one would you want to feel???How much would you pay? How much would you give, how would you bargain, on the Emotic Street of life???

............................. *** ............................

FACES

(7 September 2004)

In the market place

where everything is sold

beyond all bargain

are faces on display –

rich face and poor face,

glad face or sad one,

dark or light, young or old

stare wide and plain.

State your choice

and take your way.

Which one would you buy?

Beyond the crowd

of ignorant men

away from the scene

are faces on display –

hard face and soft face,

loathsome or lovely,

artless or guilty, humble or proud

inquire again and again.

as you choose

so you pay.

Which one would you buy?

In that canvas of life

where appearance deceives

and sympathies vary

behind the black curtain

are faces on display –

dead face and live face,

sweet face or bitter one,

welcome or hostile, pleasant or angry;

Which one would you love?

Which one would you see?

Here in this market
come and buy me, me, me! they say.

Hopeful or forlorn, beautiful or ugly,

familiar or foreign

faces to play –

false one or true face

wait upon, wait again

for another bargain;

take your pick

and carry away.

Which one would you buy?

.......................... *** ...............................

(This composition first appeared in the anthology Dandelion in 2006. The one appearing above has been slightly edited and altered for the purpose of clarity. Copyright reserved with the author.

The image used in this post is a photo montage created by the author using some of the author's google plus followers. The final image has been flipped and inverted. The author thanks and apologizes at the same time for including some and not including others in the montage due to space constraints. No harm intended in any manner, whatsoever.)

Tuesday, 12 November 2013

Rumi: The Eternal Wisdom

What do you think will happen?
and
Say, 'I am You'

The word, or the name Rumi in Arabic, literally translates into 'Roman' as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Balkhī lived at his time in what used to be Anatolia, subject to and part of the great Byzantine Empire. The word Mevlâna often attached as part to his name means "having to do with the master". He was a poet, a philosopher, and a Sufi mystic.

There is no question of a doubt that Rumi belonged, and still belongs, to the whole of humanity, and not to any religion, faith or nationality, as he himself wrote. It is indeed the greatest of all feelings, a much elated and divine one, to take the privilege to announce in words that one does not belong to any known boundaries marked by humanity itself. It is also the very heightened knowledge of one's understanding, one that touches to the very core of humanity's existence, the very essence of one's being, as part of humanity itself, in the first place.

Here is an example, from the book Rumi, Fountain of Fire, by Nader Khalili.

Ghazal: 838

What Do You Think Will Happen?

If you can't go to sleep,

my dear soul,

for tonight,