Passion…unbridled

I straddle between two worlds, sometimes I get tired

Of switching from one to the other, from inherent to acquired

I don’t belong to either one now

I am a chameleon changing colors to allow

Myself to blend in seamlessly with the crowd

It’s difficult to proclaim my identity out loud-

A hyphenated identity, a confused amalgam

Of values both Indian and American..

*

I am not in rare company, I know

There are many others like me, although

Each one of us is an alloy in proportions different

Many of us are confused to some extent

Before parents and relatives we channel Indian traits

At an individual level we find it difficult to create

Identities for ourselves beyond what people expect

Who we truly are, sometimes we struggle to accept..

*

There is a silver lining to this dark cloud

We have the immigrant ethic, but we stand proud

Representing all the values that have made America great

The best of both worlds in our work we amalgamate

*

Let me now frame this identity in a way

That is more positive- this is what I would say

Being Indian-American should be a matter of pride

Straddling between east and west, we represent the world wide!

The otherworldliness of fantasy books

Attractive to many readers looks

The quintessential fight between evil and good

Fits better in a make-believe world than it would

In a story set in the real world full of cynicism

While in a world full of magic, sorcery and mysticism

The writer is unfettered in his craft, he has free reign

To take the story in different directions, unconstrained

By the limits of space, time or plausibility

No one can question the credibility

Of a world dystopian or phantasmagorical

That allows readers to escape the world real..

*

I am a voracious reader but I do not endorse

The fantasy genre of books because

To escape to an alternate reality is not

For me, an interesting or intriguing thought

Strange creatures and dystopian universes I find

Too morbid and disturbing for my mind..

*

I gloss over the fantasy books that my child reads

To immerse myself in stories set in the real world I proceed

Tell me a story in an interesting way

Through a series of paintings or photographs that say

A lot more than words alone would

Tell me a story that is extraordinarily good

Through dance and drama, through pantomime or puppetry

Narrate a story, in prose or poetry

Merge artistic and literary techniques to create

A feast for the senses, a composition that elevates

A straightforward story into something more sublime

That remains relevant through the passage of time…

*

Tell me a story age-old in an innovative way

Tell me a story that in my heart would forever stay

It is stressful to participate in contests

Where under pressure you have to give it your best

Not all of us can stomach being that competitive

Therefore sometimes vicariously we try to live

Watching games and contests of various kinds

Rooting for the teams and contestants, we find

Our stress levels rising in nervous anticipation

We may bite out nails, close our eyes momentarily in trepidation

We jump out of our seats at a win and rejoice

Or utter sighs or even expletives of our choice

When those we are cheering for lose, especially in a nail-biting contest

We feel the heat of competition without going through the test…

*

Each time I watch a game on the television (or live)

I cannot help but admire the ambition and drive

Of those who are competing, they must be made of sterner stuff

To repeatedly subject oneself to such pressure seems quite tough

*

I’d rather stay away from competition than face

The stress of being pitted against someone face to face

Therefore I am just a spectator who can easily proclaim

May the best player or team win the game!

A writing retreat sounds like a wonderful opportunity

To get away from the grind, away from the cacophony

Of daily life to a tranquil and picturesque place

Where immersed in the lap of nature, you slow down your pace

Let yourself by your surroundings be inspired

Get your creative juices flowing, get your imagination fired

Finally begin the writing project that has been relegated

To the back of your mind, the nebulous outline you had previously created

Gets a chance to develop further, take a shape concrete

You dream of leaving the retreat with your first draft complete..

*

I think of dark mountains and misty woods

That could inspire a mystery, or quaint seaside towns that would

Serve as the setting for a summer romance with a twist

Or a remote area inspiring a thriller- I go down the list

Dreaming about what I would write in each kind of place

The vibe of the retreat location I would in my writing embrace..

*

How nice it would be if I could actually go

To such a retreat and let my creativity flow

But much as I love to write, I have a traveler’s mindset too

And if I were in a picturesque place, sightseeing is what I would do

I would probably get new ideas but not find

The time to actually write what is in my mind..

*

My writing retreat is the hour at the end of the day

When curled in my own corner, I jot down ideas that come my way…

(This is an odd one- I asked my son to give me an idea for a poem and he asked me to write one from the perspective of a tree)

If I were a plant I would need to be

Extremely ingenious to compensate for my lack of mobility

Sophisticated communication strategies I would have to devise

Instead of being able to use nose, mouth and eyes

Towards light I would know to gravitate

I would recognize when my nectar touched an insect’s palate

Being literally grounded, I would always remain

Down to earth, even when my branches reached heights insane..

*

From a vantage point everything I would witness

Heat, dust and storms I would weather, mostly with success

By undergoing transformation from within

I would stick to Mother earth through thick and thin..

*

I would not travel but my seeds would be scattered elsewhere

Moving creatures might transport me everywhere

Where planted, I would spread my roots

Grow skyward to bestow on the world my fruits

Aching muscles, creaking joints, the annoying inability

To stay up past midnight, the easy fatiguability

Those lapses in memory, barely perceptible but still there

The creeping pounds, rising blood pressure, and greying hair

All declaring the march of time incessant

You know your body is growing senescent

*

Confidence in your skill-set, and a sense of pride

In your achievements, the ability to take in your stride

Both success and failure, losses and gains

Growing old but you are past all the pains

Of youth- with equanimity challenges you face

Age is on your side, you have carved your own space

I always thought life-changing moments would

Announce themselves with a bang as they should

They would propel me higher or deliver a blow

But the impact would be powerful enough for everyone to know..

*

The older I get, the more I realize

Life-changing moments tend to take me by surprise

Catching up to me stealthily from behind

Audible as a whisper but resonant in my mind

A seismic change I feel in my bones

But that change is noticed by me alone..

*

I had romanticized the idea that landmark events

Would shape my destiny, unprecedented opportunities present

To take a giant leap of faith, I would experience transformation profound

I would accomplish improbable feats with energy newfound

But momentous moments have had little impact

On deciding the course of my life, in fact

An epiphany has changed life in an instant

When changing something was not my intent..

*

When life brings about change, I surrender and embrace

The change that may take me to a better place

A thousand odd pieces of my heart

Poured on paper, each poem a part

Of my soul, my being, my existence

A reflection of my life’s experience

Emotions from a snapshot in time preserved

My poems have over the years served

To memorialize my thoughts most ardent

To be a medium through which I comment

On happenings in the world, large and small

Burning issues that have moved me are all

Reflected in my poems, when I re-read

Each poem, I go into an introspective mode indeed

I rediscover and relive the experiences of my past

Through my poems, I hope my fervor to write lasts

Until I do, I hope there always would be

A way for me to express myself poetically..

I am bothered by this increasing pervasive narrative

That we are being poisoned by the environment in which we live

Plastics, microplastics, heavy metals, endocrine disrupters are everywhere

We must be extremely cautious and aware

Of the toxins around us that are making us sick

Only organic, purified, cruelty-free and natural ingredients we should pick

If we do that, our chronic conditions would disappear

If we do not, progressively worsening health we should fear

**

There is substantial merit in this advice

But all “pure” things come at a steep price

The contaminated or toxic stuff is ubiquitous

Easier to obtain and use without fuss

While specialty stores carry the organic stuff

To buy it at stratospheric prices is tough

When you cannot obtain products that are toxin-free

You feel incompetent in taking care of your health, you feel guilty

**

Feeling incompetent is counterproductive

Being guilt-ridden is not a good way to live

My philosophy is to reduce toxins in ways that feel right

But not go to such extremes that every day seems like a fight

To avoid exposure to every single toxin around

Base decisions on commonsense and scientific research sound

Most of the time I am like an open book

My emotions are reflected in how I look

I share too much, wear my heart on my sleeve

I call a spade a spade, and tell people what I believe

The consequences are not always pleasant

I spill too many secrets in the heat of the moment..

*

When I get hurt, to myself I vow

That spilling my guts out I would not allow

My very loquacious tongue to do

My resolve is good for a day or two

Until I find a friendly, attentive ear

And I completely disregard my fear

I share things about me that portray me

In a rather poor light, unfortunately

*

I know I increase my vulnerability

By sharing my life and my thoughts excessively

In a world where our lives are on constant display

I have to be more discerning in what I say

But when I try to develop an aura of mystery around me

I come across as aloof, reserved or even unfriendly..

*

If I could come across as honest and considerate

Without divulging my secrets, that would be for me an achievement great

I read that our planet is literally getting cooked

Climate change has never as bleak looked

As it does now, the temperatures soaring in the stratosphere

Heat waves, wildfires, hurricanes to stay are here..

Last year broke records in terms of heat

This year temperatures are poised to beat

Those from 2023, what else is there is store

The impossibly high numbers barely register any more

We just watch weather patterns go haywire

There are floods and there are wildfires

There are heat waves the likes of which used to be

Unfamiliar to those in temperate climate territory

But temperate seems tropical, tropical climate like the desert in mid-day

For temperatures to become reasonable I pray..

*

When budding architects future buildings design

The rising temperatures they would need to keep in mind

The answer to global warming does not lie

In staying indoors and cranking the air conditioning high

Our finite resources are being sacrificed

At the altar of climate change, but they do not suffice

Climate change is here to test the limits of human ingenuity

But we shall stay afloat in the rising levels of the sea..