Laura at dVerse has invited us to write about a room or rooms in whatever manner.
Image: wakeup-world.com
“I am not absent-minded. It is the presence of mind that makes me unaware of everything else.” G.K. Chesterton
There Was A Room
Once,
I had memories of an outside world
that I never left, but never lived
since the solace of solitude
there was another place,
my room within a room,
I vaguely remember,
was it large or small,
attic or other?
To know is never important
whether the room was in me
or I in the room,
there was a room.
“There is a price to pay for speaking the truth. There is a bigger price for living a lie.” Cornel West
Pretending
There are some,
but few lines are straight,
we are two uneven halves,
and the wind whips nature
into new maps as rivers
carve bends that even turn
in on themselves while
the relentless ocean
ever wastes itself on
shoreline rocks,
but we become illusion
to satisfy demands,
we straighten lines and bends
offering opinions
that want to be heard,
presenting faces that
want to be seen,
living a deception of ourselves,
pretending to believe in the
straightness of lines.
“The only thing we know about the future is that it will be different.” Peter Drucker
Are We Ready
To say future
implies something real
something sophisticated and desirable
which is hidden from us,
are we ready for this future
we cannot see,
where all predictions fail,
and where there is no center,
except yours,
mine,
fluid,
floating,
ever floating,
marking no time,
setting no tables,
keeping no account,
missing connection,
passing by.
“All human beings are my neighbours. We share the same planet.” Ana Monnar
Everyone Matters
The journey to my neighbour’s is
longer than any other I might take
until that moment when
the chasm is drawn closed
against the comfort of denial
and the habits of suspicion,
then the patterns of self give way
to an emerging knowing and
a lived experience of kindness,
giving space for gratitude,
no matter how fragile
in this place where everyone
and everything matters, and so,
in this garden of life,
love grows.
“The only difference between a rut and a grave are the dimensions.” Ellen Glasgow
What If
Drifting
along this narrow deja vu,
once again I pass you,
in familiar places
of textured prescription,
ever circling the interment
of this rutted trench,
the padre’s whisper
haunting the way,
as we skate this
tired path,
what if
we stepped out,
out of this grave
and into the brave
unprescribed geometry.
हॉंथ खाली है तेरे शहर से जाते जाते...जान होती मेरी तो जान लुटाते जाते जाते...अब तो हर हाथ का पत्थर मुझे पहचानता है... उम्र गुज़री है तेरे शहर मे आते जाते।।
I'am a Bong so fish sticks to my everything from fingers to thoughts. I love to cook and travel too! Who doesn't?! Duh! This blog is a reflection of all my passions and of course my eccentricities.. Well mostly my eccentricities! :P
Your right and left brain can work together sometimes. With a teaching, sales, marketing backgrounds I infuse poetry/photography/short stories & illustrations into my life. Travel, art, architecture, music and the outdoors are what I love!
हॉंथ खाली है तेरे शहर से जाते जाते...जान होती मेरी तो जान लुटाते जाते जाते...अब तो हर हाथ का पत्थर मुझे पहचानता है... उम्र गुज़री है तेरे शहर मे आते जाते।।
I'am a Bong so fish sticks to my everything from fingers to thoughts. I love to cook and travel too! Who doesn't?! Duh! This blog is a reflection of all my passions and of course my eccentricities.. Well mostly my eccentricities! :P
Your right and left brain can work together sometimes. With a teaching, sales, marketing backgrounds I infuse poetry/photography/short stories & illustrations into my life. Travel, art, architecture, music and the outdoors are what I love!
