Just sharing some of my favorite picks from the Corning Museum of Glass, which is a museum dedicated to telling the history of just one object-glass!
Tiny leaves steeped in boiling water
Jostling in the kettle with spices exotic
Infusing their essence as the water gets hotter
Raising expectations with their properties aromatic..
As the golden brown liquid pours out
Of a kettle into dainty cups of fine porcelain
Everyone is waiting without a doubt
For a rejuvenating, refreshing sip again..
At last, tea is served on a tasteful platter
To the accompaniment of snacks delectable
As the guests indulge in idle chatter
Huddled in small groups around the table.
*
Ah! The heavenly first sip that promise brings
That all predicaments shall solutions find
Tea is water bewitched, every drop soul-stirring
A magic potion for the exhausted mind..
*
With hands wrapped around a cup of tea
In many discourses have I taken part
Sharing ideas and opinions with alacrity
Pouring out desires hidden deep in my heart…
Dunking cookies within the piping hot drink
Letting them melt in my mouth on contact
Nostalgia engulfs me every time I think
Of those childhood days whose memories are intact..
She had donned the perfect little black dress
Worn high heels, used cosmetics expensive
Carried a fabulous handbag, but she did confess-
Despite the investment in her looks extensive
Despite the appreciative stares from the crowd
Despite knowing that stunning she appeared
Her happiness was eclipsed by the cloud
Of a voice that had its disruptive head reared..
“This is not you”- her conscience reprimanded
“Do you get fulfilment from this masquerade?”
The persistent voice within her soul demanded..
She knew the answer though she was torn
Seeing successful women she had fantasized
For many years, of being a glamorous icon
Now that she was there, she was being chastised
By none other than her own conscience
She looked like a generic socialite, it was true
Being out of place, she lacked the confidence
That is worn by the glamorous women true blue..
Once she had stepped out of the party
She realized how stifling it had been throughout
She would never try to belong to the glitterati
This kind of glamor she could do without..
**
Back in her domain (an intellectual one), she realized
She was truly glamorous in her own way
When she wore confidence like an accessory prized
She could steal the thunder from anyone, any day!
Storytelling is the most powerful way to put ideas into the world today.
All of us have a natural inclination
To embellish facts, add some dollops of fiction
When ordinary incidents we narrate
Some truth we tell, some we fabricate
This is how stories we generate
By adding imagination we all can create
Stories unique to us, reflecting our perception
Modified in narration by others’ reception.
As we spin stories we develop comprehension
Of the world around us, we learn what to mention
And what to omit when we share our notions
We learn how to best portray our emotions.
When our paths cross, our stories united by chemistry
Get interwoven as threads in the human tapestry
Our worlds intersect, passions collide, stories merge
From these interactions, new stories emerge.
I have discovered a wonderful way-
A blessed way to start my day
Looking at the cherubic countenance
Of my child, replete with innocence
Lost in the blissful folds of sleep
Floating in a dreamless slumber deep
The sight of him floods every crevice
Of my heart with profound love, as I kiss
Him on the forehead and whisper a prayer
For God to shield him with an impenetrable layer
Of courage and faith, to enable him forever
To live life to the fullest, with zest and fervor
**
Then he opens his eyes with a smile
Stretching my happiness an extra mile
And into action we get galvanized
(It still takes effort to get organized)
As I pen this down, I thank the heavens
That in my life, I have an angel’s presence.
Floral hats and flowers in boots..
The hat and the scarf waiting for the master and the mistress..
(Both these photographs are from the Philadelphia Flower Show- from different years)
The crunch of leaves beneath my feet
Sends me reminders, gentle but discreet
Of how my heart was like the leaves of autumn
Fallen and crushed, as it hit rock bottom..
When you walked away, without explanation
On a crisp fall day, following our altercation
Before I could regret and apologize
Before dewy sadness could moisten my eyes
You were gone, I was left to shudder
In the cool autumn air, I was left with no rudder
Like a bright yellow leaf separated from its tree
Benumbed, I just wandered aimlessly
As days went by, my hopes were stripped bare
Like the trees lost their leaves, for winter to prepare
When the harsh winter declared its presence
My frost-crusted heart tried to ignore your absence
Wasn’t until spring that my emotions could thaw
I was still hurting, my wounds were still raw
I let go of anger, gathered strength to apologize
As I did so, I searched for the same in your eyes
Though we said sorry, we never got back together
Spring came, and I was lonely in perfect weather..
**
Now I remember every fall, how we fell apart
Like leaves on the ground, crushed was my heart
It had bled, in fiery red shades of autumn
A longing for lost love fills me each fall season.
This rock formation in Ausable Chasm (in the Adirondacks region of upstate New York) is called “Elephant’s Head”, true to its extra-ordinary shape..
Some fun with letters (and words)!
At the Museum of Art and Design, New York City
Jack o’ Lanterns at Keene Pumpkin Festival (Keene, NH) with letters carved out- can you spot some names of sponsors?
I’ve been itching to share this on my blog- a sinister exchange between two premieres at the height of cold war- at the Naval Academy Museum, Annapolis, MD
Linking to :
When I was young I did think
That freedom was, of growing up a part
It took forever for the idea to sink
That the true sense of freedom lay in the heart…
As a child I envied grown-ups who could
Go anywhere without permission
I had decided that as an adult I would
Do nothing that was not of my volition.
In the naivete of youth I did not realize
Freedom comes with clauses too many
Freedom always exacts its price
Down to every last cent and penny.
Freedom carries with it the baggage
Of responsibility with it always
They come as an all-inclusive package
These two can never part ways..
The burden of responsibility may
Tie you down in shackles again
Therefore at the end of the day
The exhilaration of freedom goes down the drain!
**
The true essence of freedom lies inside
It is a state for ourselves to discover
By losing attachment to everything outside
We achieve our goal of freedom inner.
All my life I’d tried in vain
To metamorphose into the ideal
Woman as I’d seen again and again
Described in books or captured on reel
Right off the bat had I realized
Some crucial features I did not possess
I lacked the requisite height or the prized
Luxurious hair, with which God did not bless
So I tried to work with what I was given
Tried to slim down to the ideal size
But the ideal figure that I could envision
Would never be mine, woefully did I realize
I tried my best to behave in a manner
Befitting a female member of my society
Trying to create an aura of subtle glamor
Was a concept so foreign, it provoked some anxiety…
**
I was unhappy with myself, felt defeated
I could never be the ideal woman I epitomized
When I tried to emulate her, my soul felt cheated
That ideal must be wrong for me, I finally surmised
**
Yes, I could be quite loud and opinionated
My manicure would be chipped off before it had dried
My hair would never stay in their place designated
My mascara would run over as if I had cried
Extra slabs of fat clung to me tenaciously
Glamor and I had no relation whatsoever
So I accepted that this was me, graciously
And shifted my focus to what I could do better.
**
Devoid of illusions I tried to explore
My strengths that did not match that ideal
And to my surprise I found many more
Talents within me, things I could now feel
It took me some time to accept that I was
A nonconformist in more ways than one
And it was all right to be who I was, because
I was the best I could be, instead of a mere imitation!
Here’s a collection of man-made orchids- if you are not careful, you can easily mistake them for the real thing!
How colorful are these ceramic objects at Old Town, San Diego?
Tempting man-made fruits- at the Corning Museum of Glass
Passion...unbridled 
