Poetry/ Art/ Abstract/RoundUp
Coffee Break with Abstracts — My world of Method in Chaos
Mingling colours and word @CloudCafe
As I took time to leaf through this year’s work, I realised there was enough of art-poetry-combine, which can be compressed into a post.
It was an interesting exercise to trace my year’s path of growth, if I may be allowed to say and was pleasantly surprised at what I created for Soul Bay.
I started to work on it about a week back, but only could finish now.
Which was supposed to be a year-end post, unwittingly becomes the new year entry.
But I am a bit happy here, as I am beginning the year with a re-hash on my Art , something which is very close to my heart.
I picked few lines from several poems that was combined with my abstract art, which held the moments of inception of the poems (as far as could remember), and were finally placed at the end or middle or in between, but rarely they made to the start — I am trying to figure out why…
In the mean time, I would invite you to enjoy the collation, which I enjoyed putting together. So, here we go:
I bite the coffee,
So the mug won’t break.
Yet often it cracks.
Brown liquid seeps through,
Ceramic chips camouflage
With the floor tiles, pricks my foot,
— Sometimes-my-bitter-coffee-smiles
My vapoured glass present a vision,
A drop of water latching on a lonely cable
Hanging loosely, swaying to the passing wind
Defying gravity, preventing a fall
The need, the greed, the desire
dissolve into the serene smile
of a dream….
The imagery so visceral
it touches your skin
The skin of your soul
The quiet, the tender, the drenched
Like water…..
The days I meet myself —
It rains.
— Skin
Know,
Days will change, holding hands
of time,
Fissures will sing, hemming melody in
blithe,
Feathers will gather to forge
a skein,
Mind-lilac will one day bloom in
mind’s grind……
But in demand-luxuriant minds,
Whims chime —
Just a few drops.
Enough for phantasmal to bloom,
Moment the recto is word-touched,
In swooning hearts — O! they spell a doom…….
The moment the verso is word-touched,
In swooning hearts — O! they spell a doom…….
— Demand-luxuriant
And up there in the ocean of sky,
Littered with stars, never a fish,
Where astronomer’s geometry begins
to cease,
From the created gridlock the moon
Peeps,
Foliage-clouds, autumn’s dream,
Inside vacuum spreading lean,
Looking up to the ether bowl,
Thoughts in pieces, never whole,
Shattered ,leaky, drooping
Quagmire,
Shards of naught pierces the air,
Bouncing back to the black bare,
Bloodless coup, vanity glare —
How will it be to write a poetry
without writing one…
— Let-algo-be-fodder-to-algae-for-now
The kind of peace we all
strive for,
But wonder how is it better
than being dead….
Floating on a sea with no
ripples,
Wind taking away the ‘y’
from the salt,
Moisture from the air sucked
up by the sea —
Though it’s common knowledge
the world adores spontaneity
which creates memories
for keepsake — -
Wonder if there’s a poet in
the world of fish!
— In-the-worlds-of-fish
Alien.Alone.I float.I stand.
‘Cos in wraps my ardour breathes….
Parched for words I look up to vision a winglet
perched on the cable,
‘Be throwing a challenge, “Say human, can you fly?”
I smile.
Go birdie, take your flight,
The sky is yours to hammer,
I keep my wings in wrap,
Conniving with my hearth to convert
my inner Brownian to bliss —
‘Cos in wraps my ardour breathes,
‘Cos in wraps the hummingbird sings……
— In-wraps-the-hummingbird-sings
I try to get up but my knees
Make some noise,
No. It’s nothing new,
My bones have lost their tongue,
The tongue can’t chew its teeth,
I may spill my coffee, spoil your dress,
Not find a scarf to cover my embarrassed face..
— Cafe-dreamonic
Can you change the way
the wind is blowing —
I am air
Floating over ablaze
Melting like crayon
Disappearing, but
Existing,
Try not to fist me,
Find me anywhere
but your palm…
— About-things
The sun is see-through…..
The moon is not.
Gushing silver, little intricate black
abstracts,
Holds the secrets it never whispers
to the earth — slowly white, still brown,
You smile at the absence of a smile,
Some words, scattered everywhere
Yet invisible,
The exhibition of satiation quashed
under the weight of famished interior,
The child-in-the-box pops up even when
Forced-covered,
— A-raconteur-an-anguish-and-goya
Let me know…
We can walk the stories
Talk the nights
May be that day wake the sun up
from its longest slumber….
Till then,
Just crack your coffee
Spill your desk
Tear your words
But remember to close the windows
Before the whimsical breeze wafts in……
— When-we-talk-of-poverty
I think it’s time to abandon both my
Heart and Head.
The former silly wanted to find words
It can’t,
And the latter wasted time counting
coffee seeds, ground and crushed…
It’s wise to be just in the moment.
Now.Breathe.Feel alive.Exist.
I decide to stay with my lungs.
— Lets-all-do-what-we-can
Coffee Corner: You may find these lines disjoint and often with half meanings, because that is how they come most of the times.
The reason I have provided you the link to the whole poem, if you so wish to refer.All the Art used here are created by and belongs to Monoreena Acharjee Majumdar
Jillian Amatt - Artistic Voyages tells us an interesting story of how she felt on a Christmas Day, spent in Turkey. Wonderful journaling of life, and a pleasant read: How-starbucks-ruined-my-christmas-spirit
GE McKerrihan takes you on a 14th-of-the-month tour with some excellent photography. If this form of art intrigues you, Remembering-the-14th-of-the-month, is the read you will enjoy!
Paroma Sen gives an unbelievable touch to sunset through words and image.Read her in Burn-forever.
That’s a wrap for today from Soul Bay. Thank you for sharing coffee in my table of abstraction — they found shape and light!
Leaving with a melodious Dhun Pahari, an evening Raga by Pandit (Maestro) Shiv Kumar Sharma in Santoor .Hope you enjoy:)
