Thursday, April 19, 2018

Glopowrimo 18 Summer Haikus

Glopowrimo day 18

Haiku on summer

(Or rather a chain of them)

Waking up early
Birds chirruping in sunshine
It's hot already.

Jug of lemonade
No hot drink can quench this thirst
I need a bucket.

Hanging out in malls
It's cooler window-shopping
But purses beware.

An ice cold shower
Loose tank top, bermudas flip flops
A quiet evening walk

A kiss for baby
Out in the park, kids enjoy
Free days of summer.

Slow motion sunset
Red gold fury, skies blazing
Summer days die hard.

The longest shower
A temporary refuge
Skin soaks in oceans.

Dripping sheets shrugged off
The still air like a furnace
We are baked clay dolls.

Sultry night dreams
Stars throb screaming lava lust
Love making slurry.

Dawn's sweet soft sunlight
Racing against the cruel day
I'm up and running.

(c) Amrita Valan 2018

Monday, April 16, 2018

Slop Weekly Challenge Plight of Syria

Plight of Syria

I am no expert,
No war and imperialistic
Policy afficionado,
But even I can begin to see
And beginning to see
Tears I do weep
My eyes have sunken
To the depths of a broken heart
I cry for young children
Oh Syria
Is this the way new life
Must start?

How hearts have shrunk
Power hungry policies
Of greedy war mongers
Craving fat slices of
Middle eastern pie
One by one they decimate
Ancient Arab nations
Sooth! We only
Liberate people
From their fate.
Sometimes, sadly
We can offer
Only Death.

I have been an amazed witness
How a civilized First world of wealthy nations
Can concoct evil end plans
A caucus of infamy
Erases and rewrites history
Casting as Hero
Only the abject yes man.
Only the sham Straw man.

Assad's war crimes, more than 30 years old,
At a time, when he was a doctor in Great Britain
Seemingly discovered as he opposed
The Lybian Arab Spring...
Suddenly there were concerted efforts
To defame and indict him.

Aren't they all authoritarian
Middle East regimes?
Why this subtle differentiation
On a Spring time whim?

Regime change at any cost
Chemical false flag attacks

Denial of rights
To a once stable government
To defend its people or borders
As Al Nusra and ISIS looted raped and plundered
And still went by the name of "Freedom fighters",
Paid mercenaries and thugs from
Far and wide
Posed as a nation's heroic liberating pride.
Should we be taken as allies
On this unholy ride?

A hundred missiles For seventy dead
Oh Shoot a guided bullet
through my weary head
Can't do this unreal maths
Can't absolve this plotted sin
The blood of Arabia
Runs ever thin....

Even as Mighty
Israel guns down Palestine
And Saudi Arabia won't let
The dissident win,
Heck! they won't even let
Their brothers in.

Strange allies
Strange principles
Strangest of all
These false savage days
We are sinking in....

Hailey/Haley's comet has struck again..
Shock and awe, old
Vibrations resent
In Nikki speak
Are we locked and loaded then?

No way out....
Nothing left to God or Chance...
Think tanks reserve this last dance.

(c) Amrita Valan 2018

Friday, April 13, 2018

Asifa

Hey you. My friends. Just a thought. Never Stoke a male ego, simply because He's a man.
Never make special allowances for masculinity.

Though our cultural set up inevitably encourages women to give men the benefit of our artifices and soft skills, to treat them with kid gloves, and  coyly offer them the red carpet treatment.

Please let's not do that. Men won't expect it.
If mothers don't bring them up that way.

That's the most powerful force for good or evil, determining  how a man turns out to be.
The other gender, is probably most potent as the mother gender.

I tell my sons as often as possible, they're just as special as the girl next door.
No more no less.

When you make allowances, when you cater to male sense of privileges and feelings of entitlement...You never know the extent of harm done.

You never know what expectations you're building up in them. Inadvertently.

That...
Women are soft, malleable.

They're clay dolls, putty in our playful/philandering male paws?

Women just don't know their own minds.
So if they say "No", you just gotta lay down the law, dictate to them.

A woman's No is a "Maybe Baby."....If you can just convince me by brute force.

Failing that psychoanalyze them as neurotic hysterical hags or loose  bag of nerves.

Failing that, jeet at them, or cast aspersions on their character.

So the most intelligent among us women will get treated as a birdbrain in the company of quite ordinary men unless she toes the line.

Invisible of course. But unfailingly passive, and deferential.
Accompanied preferably by a lot of breathy giddy giggles.

We women are emotional vessels after all.

Seeking fulfilment through masculine appreciation admiration and validation.

Lets not treat men badly.
Let's not treat them special either.
Men have a buddy system.
Women I don't really know about your much touted divine ya ya sisterhood.

Seems to me that a solely emotional approach to loyalty and solidarity, to principled behaviour is bound to fail.

Feminine bonding is only half the answer.

Fallible since vulnerable to emotional click baiting.

Susceptibility is always  sensed and taken advantage of.

Will you fail to stand by her, the unloved lone woman wronged? Because she didn't bond with the rest of the sisterhood?

Let's just be rational, matter of fact and pragmatic in our interpersonal transactions.
How we treat other human beings,  or react to them, should be based on mutual respect, tolerance and compassion.

Which should ideally have nothing to do with gender.

I want to say this. Kids are innately wise. They befriend brains or beauty or brawn but never over a kind and good heart.
And kids know that brawn could be the pugnacious baby sister, and that the boy child can also be a beautiful being.
Brains are queer inventive things that can adapt and assimilate vast differences.
And find a way to joyfully coexist.

We are a species. Homo sapiens. Not a race. Not a gender. Not a colour.

Mostly not a religion.

Gosh.
Sleep deprived sleepyhead signing off. 🤓

Glopowrimo 13 Petrichor

Glopowrimo 13 Petrichor

Annual homecoming, a tedious affair
Packing the right clothes books and toys
Making allowances for Calcutta weather
Hot and humid, dry in April
Bit of Ozone crackling in the air
At cusp of  May
Soon cool breezes and darkening skies at four
Presage monsoon's advent at our door.

Lightning slashing our skies  apart
Thunderbolts incessant, stop and start.

We came equipped with singlets and shorts
Then brought out hoodies, and canvas flip flops
For my dear daredevils to dance in the rain
As dry grounds slaked their parched up pain
Quenched their thirst and soaked in luscious  fat drops
Pitter patter, as they pelted non stop!

And what a lovely parting gift from the gentle earth
The wet rocks and clay soil  opened up their veins
fragrant fluids and oils oozed upwards from nature's heart.

My boys sniffed in the petrichor
Dubious faces unsure, I smiled
To see how new things are received
By the youngest denizens of earth...

At first not so pleasing but incrementally
Over our life span,
Somethings become a fundamental need
This recurrent reassurance of
Continuity,
Life goes on in contiguity,
Completing the circle of life,
Every thing in nature harmonized.

Arousing fishes in the river the petrichor scents
Reminds them how now is it's time to procreate
How it guides the thirsty camel to divine desert oases
Subtlest fragrance for their eager noses

And I bend to scoop the mud in my revering palms
Touching my ancestors in moist mingled  balm.

Petrichor... Soul sap of the Gods
Petrified scents set in stone cellars
Reminder of life juices permeating
Our fragile flesh and bones.

(c) Amrita Valan 2018

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Glopowrimo 10 Darkening Bright

Glopowrimo 10 Darkening Bright

Oh tender child of mine
Care of my autumn life
Sum of my entire life
Late arrival
Precious guest
Heart's beloved mine.

I remember every sunny day
Clear in memory's haze
Your toothless chuckles
Coos and gurgles
Your balled up fists
Your winning lisp
Your cozy snuggles.

My cute hooded clown
On skates you race around
Now you skitter off on your bike
And I'm left all alone
Lost in the
Darkening bright.

I have no blindfolds
No rosy glasses
These days of gaietys'
Sunny classes
Wil fade away
To obscure wonderlands
Inexorably, the Age fairy
Waves her magic Wand.

The rooms will fall silent
The windows close in at dusk
Without merry faces popping in
Like sunny corn from its tender husk...

And all I am left with
Are memory's silken awn
To thread my spare autumnal loom

But for now
This glorious morn,
Blessed reprieve,
My children's laughter
Splashes in the breeze
And their bright eyes
Bring in such dazzling light
May this brightness never cease.

But already alas
There's a soft tint to the light
Subtlest hint of predator night
I feel the fuzz on my neck
Stand upright
Sombre Premonitions
Heralding silent nights...

Hark now, my Muse
Pay heed
To the darkening bright.

(c) Amrita Valan 2018

Glopowrimo prompt 8 Trees are Saints in Disguise

Glopowrimo prompt 8
Trees are Saints in Disguise

Just a momentary glimpse
Into an alternate universe
Populated solely by trees
I felt palm leaves
Fan my face
And the broad dry red leaves
Fall from grace
Ashoka trees
Peepals
And Mango trees
They were like people.
All alike
Slightly different.

Each leaf shape
Spelt character.

They fanned caressed spread out
Offerings of breeze and shade

Each branch bowed
Under the collateral burden
Of its weight
Like dutiful householder.

Or reached up to the sun
Supplicant for all our
Collective fates

Sometimes I swore they reached
Out in mute tenderness
Offering benediction
And grace.

If trees are not the
Intended sole occupants
Of this, my universe
Where humans seemingly reign
Top of the food chain...
A quiet suspicion
Something's not in place..
The more I look
At trees...
I see how they both outrace
And embrace
The Human race.

Trees are signifiers
Dignified serenity's sage
They stand up in place
Static, rooted...
Even as they succumb to old age.

I feel flash forward
images...
Concentric circles
Like rings on the trees
Constancy, faith, endurance
Acceptance, submission, patience
Steadfastness, Aspirations
Of reaching high places
Without desertion of roots
Home bound always..
With every year
A new aspect permeates

Such is their beautiful wisdom
In their silent sacred days.

Trees are saints in disguise
If we only unmask our face.

(c)  Amrita Valan 2018

Savage

Savage

Savage mutilated
Abandoned
Gashed up Geisha dolls
Slashed up rag dolls
Hacked up stacked up,
Resurrected hash tags.

Poor souls
Abandoned
By Guardians
Of girlhood
Protectors of falsehoods
Covering up savagery
In veils of silence.

Savage hands held them
Barely out of their cradles
Shared and shredded innocents
Satanic rituals of horror
God's natural order perverted.

Meanwhile
False souls murmured
Rueful utterances
Doling out solace
Alas! Such
Deceitful regrets
When punitive measures
Are strictly prohibited.

Savage lies
Savage ties
Blindfolded tender marionettes
In a savage world they die
In pools of blood to lie.

Our bright little baby girls
Lie in recumbent poses
In soft frozen despair.
Savaged by beasts
In stasis forever.

... Meanwhile
Those cold ugly beasts
Politicized ape-kind,
Goliaths and  goons,
Who let them loose
From their polarized lairs?

They
Who did....
Must not be named.

They're the ones
Most frightening
Smooth polished toffs
Thugs with agendas
Mouthing concerns
Sheer propaganda

Most heinous false souls
Self designated protectors
Guardianship betrayed
Womankind beware.

Mothers, wives and sisters
Daughters
No Girl child spared
For in this savage garden
Lust uncoiled and erected
Hisses, and unchecked,
Fanged, venomous,
His head rears.

(c) Amrita Valan 2018