Passion…unbridled

From my vantage point I can see

Throngs of people milling about

Usually they stop to look at me

Because I have that kind of clout

Some give me a mere passing glance

Others give me a long, hard stare

Some comment on my expression and stance

Some would love to touch me, but do not dare

I am used to being thoroughly scrutinized

Discussions on my attributes I hear

You would think by now I’d be desensitized

I already have a permanent sneer…

All sorts of opinions I have heard

Some exalted, some just ridiculous

Explanations abstract that sound absurd,

I am used to attention assiduous..

**

Like a performer on stage perpetually

I have been basking in public attention

I have immortalized my creator actually

Of his talent, I am a representation. 

Now that you are at the end of the poem, let me reveal the somewhat cryptic identity of the narrator- this poem is written from the point of view of a famous statue- I had “David” at Accademia in Florence, Italy in mind. He was created my Michelangelo in the 16th century.

Replica of “David” outside the Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, Italy

If I could ask for one wish to be granted

I would choose the gift of peaceful sleep

For in doing so, I would lose all unwanted

Demons hiding in my soul’s recesses deep..

If I could lay my head on the pillow each night

And close my eyes in blissful contentment

Forgive every unpleasant remark, every slight

Let ooze out of my pores all traces of resentment. 

Let sleep, the master seducer preside over me

And in to my marrow, inject some languor

Such that the evil around me I can no longer see

And I fall into a peaceful, dreamless stupor.

**

For sleep is the gift of a content mind

Meant exclusively for rejuvenation

To repair human beings, sleep was designed

It is the purest form of meditation..

It is the glory and good of Art, That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truth, to mouths like mine at least.
-Robert Browning
Spoken words, expressions, actions can hide

Almost anything a person feels inside

But when an artist displays his art

It unveils the truth hidden in his heart

Truth can be monstrous, unpalatable

Scathing, searing, quite unbearable

Art is a varnish carefully applied, 

Skilfully, the ugliness of truth it can hide

Presenting the truth ornamentalized

Art disguises truth, I have realized

If you look deep into an artistic creation

A painting, a sculpture, a theatrical presentation

You can get a glimpse into the creator’s mind

A bitter truth of life you will likely find..

Subtly presented, aesthetically pleasing

Nonetheless, for recognition pleading..

Art is therefore a necessary invention

From the naked truth to provide us protection!

As on my life I reflect

There are things that I regret

Opportunities missed, desires suppressed

Feelings for others, never expressed

Being held back by irrational fear

Clouded by doubt for reasons unclear

Looking back at all these with a sigh

“If only” is the phrase that makes me cry

Regrets weigh me down each step of my way

Prevent me from enjoying what I have today..

**

In accumulating the burden of each regret

Wallowing in self-pity, I did forget

Whatever I did, made me who I am now

The things I regret have molded me somehow

They were lessons that I learnt the hard way

I would not be the same even if I could replay

And reverse the many errors I committed-

I suddenly felt light when this truth I admitted

The unpredictability of life necessitates

Living it by throwing off one’s back all the weights

Thus I decided to toss my regrets in the air

And face my present with shoulders square.

If every love that reared its head

Was reciprocated, its appetite fed

I think it would be a loss to mankind

Erosion of creative expression we’d find-

For unrequited love’s poignant incantation

Has been the catalyst for literary creation,

Spurred musical compositions mellifluous, 

Inspired poetry, exquisite and scrumptious

For rejected lovers have a need to express

Their heartbroken feelings, so the pain can be less

Trying to piece their broken lives and hearts

Masterpieces they create, in brilliant small parts

While those who have been more fortunate

Are with each other, and cannot wait

To live together, marry, a family start

Worried about everything except the heart

They have nothing that can into art be transformed

Their happiness is simple and unadorned

Art requires the pathos of a rejected soul

Contentment and happiness have minimal role

So painful it is, and heart-breaking, it’s true

Love unrequited has a higher purpose too!

This poem is written from the perspective of a conqueror who has killed countless people in the process of conquering new lands. I was reading a book named “Ines of my soul” which is a work of historical fiction describing the bloody conquest of Chile by Spanish conquistadores, and the book inspired this poem.

The image below is a painting in the Vatican City Museum
The mirror is now in front of me

Reminding me it is time, finally

To face my crystal clear reflection

Be aware of my hideous imperfections

See the scars of experiences unpleasant

Face my darkest fears that are omnipresent

Bringing to surface secrets buried deep

Secrets that torment me in my sleep

I am face to face with the person

Who can change my life, that’s the one

Who spells out the truth, naked and stark

Who reveals the side of me that is dark

Can’t run away from my innermost soul

Every grave error will exact its toll

My demons will haunt me until I repent

Each mortal crime deserves a punishment

This mirror has brought me down to my knees

Penance I seek, Lord, pardon me please.

To spend my hours in a place

That does not exist on the earth’s face

To take a dip in the vast azure sea

Whose waves the mortal eye cannot see

To hear a symphony, loud and clear

Whose notes lie beyond the stratosphere

To read a book whose pages are inscribed

On parchment invisible in this world wide

To dance in a style not yet devised

Feet tapping in a sequence not previously tried

To write in a language completely alien

With a rich amalgam of words, never spoken

Weary of the evils of this world, my soul implores

Me to leave my comfort zone, and alternate reality explore..

Find a parallel universe, pure and untainted

With its vistas in bright shades of hope painted

A brave new world that would proudly display

What earth would be like if man had not gone astray..

On the occasion of Teachers’ Day in India (September 5th)

A teacher affects eternity-

I can say that with certainty

The influence that a teacher exerts

Is so profound that it asserts

Itself in myriad spaces, countless ways

Inspiring words that the teacher says

Become, of her students’ lives a part

Etched forever they are in their hearts

Teachers  help their students find

Their unique gifts, shape their minds

Inspire for learning a fiery passion

Teachers create every single profession!

When the epitome of logic starts getting illogical

When the sanest person of being unhinged shows signs

When  disorder invades the life of the person most methodical

There is a writing on the wall, in between the lines-

That love has invaded their lives, pervaded every corner

Left them lovestruck, robbed them of the last shred of peace

Clueless you’ll find them, like a hapless foreigner

They hallucinate in broad daylight, being practical they cease

You wonder how their mind, usually full of ideas intelligent 

Suddenly appears to have gone into deep hibernation

All they can talk about is their “unique” predicament

And you don’t seem to care, much to their consternation!

**

Being stuck in limbo thus may last weeks few

Before reality gets a grip on the slippery balance

They are now back to doing what they do

Their crush is now over- they end their ambivalence.

An invisible prison surrounds many of us

Its walls are made of imagined whispers

Coming from people in our society

Who judge us constantly, convinced are we

At every mundane step that we take

We are afraid we’ve made a mistake

We worry about flouting a social norm

Or the negative opinion peers might form

We second-guess every single decision

Resulting in our actions losing precision

Applauded by others, we are on cloud nine

Societal approval is surely a good sign…

**

We live life conforming to traditions

Placing on ourselves undue restrictions

Yet the criticism does not cease

We bend ourselves some more to please

Until being original is a forgotten art

Being one with the crowd starts appearing smart.

**

All great achievements, remember we should

Were made by the person who alone stood

Professing something disdained by society

With no one to support him but the Almighty

Why are we then afraid to be different?

On pleasing others, why are we hell-bent?

When you have a mission, try standing alone

And when you succeed, the credit will be your own!