AtoZChallenge: Z is for Zing

Today is the most exciting day. As I reach the end of a beginning, with A-to-Z 2016 (which in fact I never thought I’d finish), I am so filled with Zing and gratitude. Thought I’d write a little poem to celebrate. 

My heart feels this thing called zing
as it approaches the end of a beginning
the merry slides, the rollicky rides
nothing to beat the crazy times

I’ve had you for company thus far
the merriest and the best i can imagine
and I do wish it lasts much farther
than all the A to Zs put together

Adios Amigos until next time
See you around the next bend!

 

Thank you, friends, for being a part of my journey, and for all your views, likes and comments on my posts. This big Zing thing would never have been possible without YOU. I thank you so much for traveling with me thus far. I do hope I continue to post and that you continue to visit and our relationship flourishes with time.

Love and Hugs,

Sudha

 

AtoZChallenge: P is for Pain

Sometimes being a writer comes with a lot of pain and it has inspired this poem for the letter P. Sometimes it just feels good to say the well’s empty, so that the word’s out there in the universe and ready for a refill. Cheers! 🙂

The pain starts deep in the chest
It’s lodged with patience and perseverance
There is passion in there for good measure too
But it all seems pointless in the face of rejection and dejection

It merits no compassion
Though it deems the soul a certain right
In the well drained of the creative muse
In the desert where the oasis is beyond sight.

-Sudha Nair

AtoZChallenge: L is for Lazy

I go on a trip down memory lane of lazy Sundays spent in my parents’ home. As I lounge on the easy chair or potter around the house I think of the lazy days of my childhood, of records playing and mamma’s cooking, which of course, makes me pick up the phone to order some lunch. So here goes. A poem dedicated to lazy Sundays. Ideal, as they should be:)

I listen to lazy
radio Indigo on Sunday mornings
A cup of coffee, a plate of egg on toast
lounged on the easy-chair like a baby

Pajamas worn over a shirt so gray
Will do for a potter around the house
TV’s blaring, my mind’s traveling
Off to my childhood hazy

Records playing, mamma’s cooking
I pick up the phone to place my order
Embracing my place in that lovely space
I stay here in my Sunday, still lazy

What are your lazy Sundays like?

AtoZChallenge: C is for Choice

The poem “When you are Old” by W.B. Yeats, and the word “pilgrim soul” inspired this little poem that I wrote. And I thought it was apt for the word of the day. C is for Choice. Here is my poem:

Is Choice not a battle of wills?

On a sojourn such as this,

A condemnation or a compromised kiss,

Both, the pilgrim soul resists.

P.S. Sometimes when I read a poem, it speaks to me and forces me to spout words of my own. The words, worthy of penning or not, give me a sense of peace and pride in my little creations.

Hope this speaks to you too!

Here is the poem by Yeats.

 

When You Are Old

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

 

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

 

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Circles of colour

Two line poem:

Circles of two colours

Who marked their numbers?


A four line poem:

Chopped vegetables gathered in heaps

Greens, whites, oranges, I see

Glistening under the kitchen lights

I admire my handiwork with glee


An excerpt from a poem by W.B. Yeats:

When you are Old

“When you are old and gray and full of sleep

and nodding by the fire, take down this book,

and slowly read, and dream of the soft look,

your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;”

The rest of Yeats’ poem is here.