Tag Archives: interospection

Seeing “The weight of One Self”

"The weight of One Self" - marble sculpture of height 2.7m by artists Michael Elmgreen & Ingar Dragset, in Lyon, France.
“The weight of One Self” – sculpture of height 2.7m by artists Michael Elmgreen & Ingar Dragset, in Lyon, France.
I look at my limp
body in my arms and I
wonder who saved whom.
I can only hold
the weight of my own conscience,
talk the truth I know.
Never a hero
was made by saving himself-
Completely untrue.


You can read more about this philosophically forceful sculpture here.

If this was my last poem…

If this was my last
poem, I should suffer
I’d wake
late in the day-
there’d be nothing
in the early light
of collective awakening
to record in cursive letters.
I’d eventually lose
my sight
for irony and ecstasy
in the mundane, then
life would be perfectly
The ream of used printer paper
recycled for blotted thoughts
would gather dust
and no more dreams.
This pen would be left
standing nib-up
in an old coffee mug,
until its ink dried. When
taken later to quickly scribble
an address or number
it would grate
angrily against
the grain.
I’d let my wrist
loose and jerk
the pen and the air
would be moved
to whip me.
I’d feel shame
for once
I had used this pen
as a whip.


Inspired by daily prompt: Last Words & my ongoing study of the Imagist free verse form.

Lost & Found

‘To lose one’s identity’ suggests that
There must have been – a sort of ownership
Of self; a belonging to a band, a race,
A brand; a categorized face constantly
Possessed, framed to play a part on a screen.
The more one thinks, the boundaries shrink to
Reveal: that being labeled worsens
The sense of one, a blurring with the background,
A need to not keep an identity.
A rainbow in Black & White
A rainbow in Black & White

The Mind’s Eye

Darkness envelopes tubes of light

The source of artifice is shadowed

My eyes are focused on the now

While the mind is free to roam




As time wanes the sharpness is split

Into a multitude of shards of memories

My eyes glisten with fatigue and disappointment

While the mind is free to roam

Shadows - 2



Amongst the times spent in the freshness of calm air

With shafts of power that break through the quiet

My eyes close in reverie, darting rapidly

While the mind is free to be still.

Alcazar gardens



Personal Photojournal Entry in Snow: Thawing up to 2015

I spent the final days of 2014 in a quaint hideaway nestled in the Swiss Alps without internet and any human contact except for my darling husband who packed his gaming console (just in case of an avalanche). Okay, let’s boil that down to no human contact.

Fresh snow

I experienced the first snow of this winter season. It’s late but not sorry, with about 30 cms falling overnight. The quiet that descends upon the land after a heavy snowfall is riveting. I especially and exclusively like the snow up in the mountains. It adds to the natural beauty of the landscape and doesn’t get in the way of ordinary life like it does in the city. I have found myself cursing it too many times, either because I am under-dressed to meet it or I am just not of this climate and sadly for me it’s usually both. But I will gladly admit that it is my preferred form of precipitation. Monsoons are awe-inspiring and I have loved them all my life but a snowfall is so serene and seemingly subtle. Something magical to me.

Markedly beautiful
Markedly beautiful

The silhouettes of the mountainsides stand starkly in the moonlight, that shadows most of the Milky Way but does not seem to stifle the burst from the human hearts littered across the landscape; tiny galaxies of warmth and wonder in their own right. I see from my vantage a vista of possibilities and choices.

Late night vision under the moonlight
Late night vision under the moonlight

The New arrived with bangs that echoed across valleys; burst forth from pressurised packaging to light up the present momentarily; as a metaphor on our times – evasive but coloured by hope and happiness.

Firework over the valley
Firework over the valley

I was better prepared for 2015 in 2014 I suppose. I am here on the first Monday of the year (which doesn’t mean anything if you’re living in an Islamic nation) just worried. There is no other word. 2015 has started and we are 5 days in. Or should I be say we have 360 to go? When I went through my blog report that the kind people at WordPress had created, for me and for you, on a generic layout with personalised information; making all of us siblings in one grand gesture of comity- I realize that 360 is actually not a great number at all. Is that enough time to do all I want to do this year? And that, ladies and gentlemen, brought me to the most crucial question of all: What DO I want to do this year?

The seven days of type-less pondering to reconnect with my Inner Voice. What do I have to show for it: a new face? A fresh start? 

At times the haze is of little consequence

I am humbled by my ineptitude to grasp all my attitudes in less than a fortnight. The cloud has settled low again.

And then it can block out the warmth

I am thankfully not drawing a blank or a frown on all fronts. I have signed up for Blogging 101 and my Poetry course starts next week. I have not yet been to as far as serious things go.

I do, however, foresee a series of posts wherein I try to tease out my real needs.

In this way maybe my words will finally begin to soothe me, with their seemingly subtle ways. Like Magic; not unlike the first snow. To bring to light the hidden colours.

2015 brings with it many possibilities. At this moment I don’t have a specific goal to reach. That is a first in my life. I can’t remember a time when I started a year not knowing what I must accomplish by its end. This is new and it's scary.