Tag Archive | English Poem

The Vacuum Cleaner

;

A salesman was here today
Selling vacuum cleaners.
They clean everything,
He said.
The pelmets, the curtains,
And of course, the carpet;
Even the bedcover, the walls,
And that place under the bed
Which I can’t reach.

I wonder
If it can sweep aside
The cobwebs that blanket our lives …
… yours and mine.
Will it help me
Reach that corner
Of your heart
Which I cannot touch?
I wonder,
As I wait for you
To decide
If we need that vacuum cleaner..

                                                                                         Betukbandi  (1986)

Advertisements

Curtains

  
About the poet – I found this and a few other poems in the diary of an 18-year old girl a couple of years ago.  She would rather remain anonymous. Actually, she can’t remember writing them in the first place and thinks they are rather inane. So when I thought they should be recorded somewhere – whatever their worth – she reluctantly gave me  permission to share them here, albeit in my name.

About the poem – She was obviously a fan of ‘Gone With the Wind’.

About the photograph – Credit all mine! Taken on a trip to Palampur in Himachal Pradesh, India. 

A Memory Unlived

 

A tinkle of an anklet?

 

Haven’t I met you before,

From across a closed door?

In a dream,

Kind of forgotten?

In a verse still to be written?

In a note

Not yet sung?

In a word that hung

On my lips, unsaid

Or patiently sat

In a book I haven’t read?

In the footsteps

That tread

In a memory unlived?

In the smoke of a fire

Which never was lit?

In a scent that faded

Ere I even smelt it?

In a touch so soft

Only my heart

Ever felt it?

In a cloud

That sailed unseen?

In a sigh, unsighed

Of what-could-have-been?

I haven’t met you, are you sure?

In a life never lived before?

 

Note: There is something hauntingly romantic about old ruins. And when these are situated in a village which is supposed to be the ‘most haunted place in India’, one’s imagination runs wild. A memory – glimpse of a veil, a whiff of a scent, a touch of the breeze – the birth of a poem, dedicated to Bhangarh, a small village in Alwar District in Rajasthan.

A Special Quilt of Hope

20131121-153341.jpg

This is a very special quilt, perhaps the closest to my heart! I started making it in February this year, as a Valentine’s Day challenge entry for my facebook quilting group, Desi Quilters. I had just managed to get the pieces ready for English paper piecing, when my daughter fell seriously ill.

20131121-152157.jpg
She was hospitalized for 2 months, when there was someone very special who gave us faith she and we would come out of it, stronger than before.
“Cruel harsh winter
Ablaze with flowers of hope.
Summer’s in my heart.”
The unfinished pieces lay there forlorn and rolled up, to emerge in September, for yet another group challenge, ‘Flowers’. Finally completed, here it is.

Small Quilted wall hanging 25" X13" English Paper pieced clamshells, appliqued, machine free motion quilted. Flannel batting

Flowers of Hope – Small Quilted wall hanging

This piece is also special, because it is the first time I tried free motion quilting, quite successfully, I thought!

Back of Flowers of Hope  - Small Quilted wall hanging

Back of Quilt

(The use of the lighter brown in the bobbin case was not intentional – I just ran out of the darker thread  :-p)

20131121-153304.jpg
I added a few French knots to give some dimension to the flowering trees.

20131121-153320.jpg

Today we are faced with yet another situation where we need strength and hope, lots of it!
My faith continues to give me belief we shall overcome this too!
“…but winter always turns to spring. Never, from ancient times on, has anyone heard or seen of winter turning back to autumn. ” Nichiren Daishonin
And so,
बीहड़ उजाड़ मन.
गुलमोहर अमलतास बन
झूमी आस किरन…

The Dance of the Butterfly

 

My Butterfly - In Waiting

The Butterfly’s Dance – A Mother’s Promise

 

In the jungles of her mind

In a dank and dreary cave

Surrounded by much deadwood

Rarely the joy of day.

Only those creeping crawling vines

Twist in to hold their sway

Curled up in her little cocoon

My butterfly’s world is dark and grey.

Many try in vain to find her

And when almost there

The demons that surround her

Frighten them away.

Usually efficient messengers

Scramble here and there

Mixing up their messages

Angry lightning flashes everywhere

Roaring thunder booms around her

All creation seems to shake.

 

But then she tries to struggle out

Is my butterfly coming awake?

Suddenly she smiles at me

Her smile lights up my day

As her wide, trusting eyes study my face

I touch her hand and say

Yes, my sweetheart, we’ll find an answer

I promise we’ll find a way!

We’ll turn this world upside down

And we’ll get you out of here.

With a sword of steel we’ll cut the vines

Of hopelessness and despair

A single candle can brighten a cave

Dark for many a thousand year.

A  stone, millennia under the sea,

Continues  to hold fire.

 

On the wings of golden sunshine

Soaring ever higher

Blazing a trail of hope and freedom

For others who live in drear

From the jungles of your mind, you’ll fly

Into flower-kist mountain air.

 

October 2011

 

For my son – translating the poem into English:)

GAMES ON A WINTER MORNING

Early on a winter morning,

Young rays of the sun

March into my house

To have a lot of fun!

Without e’er an invite,

Through the bare window

They clamber down my bed

And scamper over my floor.

In a game of make-believe,

They pretend to be my furniture.

Suddenly they stop in their tracks

And preen in front of the mirror.

They creep under my sofa.

And in their faces bright,

I spy a collection of dust,

Hiding from my sight!

Giggling, they run to find

Every dirty nook in my room,

Getting in my way, as I

Go looking for my broom.

They visit my dining table glass

To draw  patterns of  my chair.

Before you can even blink

They are dancing everywhere!

Now, this really is the limit!

Using  my chair as a ramp

Some climb  on to the ceiling

Disguised as a lamp.

 They chuckle, having fooled me

Let them snigger all they will.

They’re welcome to my house

For it is winter, still!

But,  when summer comes,

Let no one have any doubt.

With thick curtains and blinds

I will shut them out!

 (And then it goes all philosophical – but forget that!)