Of Shakespeare And Ghalib.

Tough luck, trying times and interrogating my existence, I turn to literature and poetry looking for comfort and sound reflection. Someone has always said what needs to be said and said it better than I ever can.

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to - 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd; To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life,
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn away,
And lose the name of action.

Na tha kuchh toh khuda tha, kuchh na hota toh khuda hota
duboya mujhko hone ne, na hota main toh kya hota?

me and cummings

my mind and i stared for long
thought not for too long
to be some else i am not
i wondered then was i
nor sane nor abstract(for i
believed i was)not more not far
to be him was to be not me
i am rightful to me
for in the end what is left for me is me

anyone lived in a pretty how town
- e e cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

i carry your heart with me
- e e cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

somewhere i have never travelled
- e e cummings

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands


---

That's All Folks!

Playlist and More

Feeling sad and lonely and generally very low and I'm lying awake thinking of nonsensical things and just wondering where life has brought me? What I am doing with it? What am I going to do with it? I guess that's what they call "growing up"!
Reminiscing, thinking, pondering, analyzing and generally *feeling* was the theme for the day...
The songs that constitute my current playlist:

1. Keith Urban - Stupid Boy
2. The Fray - Over My Head
3. Imogen Heap - Hide and Seek
4. John Legend - Save Room
5. Chris Daughtry - Home
6. Rascal Flatts - Help Me Remember
7. Blue October - Calling You
8. Goo Goo Dolls - Feel the Silence

You lie awake at night
With blue eyes that never cry
And all you remember now
Is what you feel

The truth remains
In midnight conversations
I asked for this moment
But you turned away

Sad like a lonely child
Broken the day you're born
I held the light to you
But I was so vain

And you remain
A promise unfulfilled
I ask you for more
But you push me away

And if we feel the silence
Holding this all inside us
Everything means more now than
Words could explain

And if we feel the silence
Leaving this all behind us
Looking for something more to say
I don't know where I'm going
Only know where I been
And you move through my soul like a hurricane wind
Been so lost for so long
I don't know how to get back again
And we're drowning in the water
That flows under this bridge
When you're fighting the current
You forget how to live
And I wanted to reach but I don't know where to begin

And you remain
A promise unfulfilled until today
And if we feel the silence
Holding this all inside us
Everything means more now than
Words could explain

And if we feel the silence
Leaving this all behind us
When it's gone what will you say
How do we hold on (5)
You lie awake at night
With blue eyes that never cry

...It's my song for the day! Ain't these lyrics just lovely?! :D

Roosikins.

You're my Honeybunch, Sugarplum
Pumpy-umpy-umpkin, You're my Sweetie Pie
You're my Cuppycake, Gumdrop
Snoogums-Boogums, You're the Apple of my Eye
And I love you so and I want you to know
That I'll always be right here
And I love to sing sweet songs to you
Because you are so dear

Love you 'R'. Muah!

Looking for the light.

 

I want something else...


The heaviness of the meaningless whims,
Becomes hard to pass on to anyone else,
Alone is how I have to carry this it seems;
Through the tunnel, Until I see hope’s rays and beams...

...I feel I’m cracking under pressure,
Still feeling my way around, very unsure,
Trying to be strong at this point of censure.
The end of the tunnel is somewhere close, I’m sure...

...The cracks deepen, and I sit and stare,
Into nothingness as if this is all I care.
Rescuing reality from fantasy’s claws,
Looking at the times to come cause,
The end of the tunnel is somewhere close...

...At the end of the tunnel there will be light
And through these cracks it will reach inside me
And enlighten me to bear the lightness of being.

Rhyming and Poetry.

I was watching a series on television where they ridiculed a pansy, pathetic, wanna-be poet!
Watching it I wondered if poetry/rhyming was actually that hard? and I decided to try my hand at it...and guess what I figured?!

Not only that it's difficult! but it's draining as well!

Well, so, here is my Vogon attempt at poetry!

I try very hard to write
Something I hope wouldn't be too trite
Of things unsaid
Of things beyond the staid
Why am I writing in rhymes
Because they sound like chimes
OMG! All of this has gone over-board
Ok, I'll stop before you get bored.
Oh! you say, I should go on?
I won't be fooled, I see you've put your ear-muffs on!


I honestly hope that you did not require the use of the "imagery intensifiers, rhythmic modulators, alliterative residulators, or the simple dumpers" to help you heighten the experience of reading my poetry!


If you've read this far, your patience is gratefully appreciated! :)