In the spirit of the holidays

Let me ask you to take the time to please,
spare a thought for those without ease,
and try to do something to rekindle their fading belief,
in the love and loveliness that are often dormant in humanity.

Please be one of the many possibilities,
that could become a beautiful reality,
if we set aside our inbred apathy,
to actually take the time to see.

That treating them with kindness and civility,
as they are deserving equality of opportunity,
and our heartfelt fraternity/sorority,
giving them a chance to feel empathy.

Will do so much more than pride or pity,
or empty acts of supposed charity,
for all anyone seeks is honesty,
loyalty, mercy and humility,

To be treated with a lack of disparity,
a manner devoid of insincerity,
like they too are integral to society,
and not some extra entity on the edge of life,

(I know the holidays are mostly over, but the message can be relevant at any time)

WiFi

The planet is almost entirely globalized,
Communication, literally, at the speed of light*,

Humans live an almost entirely digital life,
News and Entertainment at the blink of an eye,

Gadgetry has also increased insight,
Science's mysteries are being cracked open wide,

Everything is but hours away with commercial flights,
Outer space has been breached with satellites,

Limitations are no longer easy to define,
Its technology is every State's greatest pride,

Yet there still are a multitude of problems with my,
unreliable, miserable, insufferable,
WiFi.


*Optical fibers

The End of Examinations*

No more textbook-induced hunchbacks.

memorizing an incessant stream of facts.

writing essays until my hand cramps.

stress about the listening properly in class.

No more staying up until midnight,

living off adrenaline and fright,

homework stacked up to the sky,

feeling like my brain is about to fry.

No more worrying my head will explode,

carting around a mountainous workload,

fretting over every little mark and score,

passing out against bus windows.

No more waking up early in the morning,

consistent, countless slogging,

struggling without stopping,

with worries getting in the way of blogging.

No more meeting last-minute deadlines,

despairing over library book fines,

pain over living up to paradigms,

expectations for a while.

No more counting the days till vacation,

grasping at fraying patience,

academic obligations,

No more, at least until this year's cessation....

*For now.

Poetry is not a sign of depression

The likes of Poe and Plath,

Have given poetry a bad rap.

Their odd inclination toward,
Using words to air their troubles,

Have left people are all too ready to say,
That poetry is a sign of dysfunctionality.

Well, there is nothing wrong with writing poems,
Or using them to convey your deepest emotions .

For speech is plagued by uncertain ambiguity,
But words are something more concrete.

Once it is placed on screen or on paper,
It is more a statement than a conjecture.

Memories can be forgotten or fade into obscurity,
But when transcribed, they become parts of history.

And the visual art has so much more meaning,
It is imbued with the most honest feeling,

That a person can ever hope to demonstrate,
Is found in the art that they make.

So poetry is not a sign of depression,
It is simply self-expression.

So poetry is not a sign of anxiety,
It is a person showing the world how they see.

So poetry is not a symptom of any illness,
But simply the act of writing in verse.

Stress

Stress is stalking me,
Waking or asleep,
I never get a respite,
It is taking over my life.

From the dawn's light,
To the stroke of midnight,
I labor ceaselessly,
Yet it never leaves.

High school is a struggle,
But there is a threshold for trouble,
That every student seems to possess.
Crossing it means becoming prey for stress.

The towering stack of things to study,
And other commitments often bury,
Students from all hopes of evasion,
With stress standing in the midst of every situation.

Stone Ceiling

My shoulders seem to carry more,

than Atlas bearing the weight of the world.

For expectations pile on my back,

Bending me over until I cannot see the path.

Staring at the ground, Unable to see the skies,

Tears the only raindrops, as they fall from my eyes.

No rocks or planets could be as heavy,

As the things others expect of me.

My future, my present and my past,

Have all been steel and iron cast.

Unerasable in the passage of time,

Until slow erosion erases me from mind.

But as hammers and force shatter stone,

With effort can I make my name known.

Neurotic Nostalgia

Simple dreams

Sometimes lead you far away

Simple wishes

Sometimes lead you so astray

Sometimes,

its the things we want,

that blind us to

what we have got.

Its so clear,

what was once mine,

when it disappears,

from in front of my eyes

Never knew

how much it meant,

till it left,

gone with the wind.

Never knew

that it was always there,

waiting for me,

though I never cared.

And as the time went by,

I began to realize

that I had never lived life,

Till I had to face actual strife

All those things,

 that I left behind,

Thought they did not matter,

at the time

Now I feel

that the days gone by,

Could have held so much more

if I had tried

Threw it all away,

without a backward glance

watched it fade away

Never have another chance

But life goes on,

in an endless cycle of days,

and every future,

is one learned from mistakes

My First Proper Poem

How something so small

can provide such comfort

that I can never hope to know.

But it is what

sustains us all,

through the trials of today and tomorrow.

For despite all

that humanity believes,

we shall always hold this close,

It is hope

that lets people see,

through the mists of sorrow and loss.

(I wrote this February 2011)

The Evolution of English

Over the course of history,

English has undergone many changes.

As it is spoken by,

Many people in different places.

Its roots are entrenched in 450 AD,

When Germanic tribes arrive in Briton,

They brought with them a new language,

And were called the Anglo-Saxons.

While few to none of the words in Briton,

Had been assimilated from the Roman vocabulary,

The Anglo-Saxons new language,

Was appreciated for its ease and contemporaneity.

With simple words like “house”

And a “loaf” of bread,

Their vocabulary was,

Much more appreciated.

Besides such domestic words,

They also gave more abstract contributions.

For “Tiw's day”, “Woden's day”, “Thor's day” and “Frey's day”,

Are all based on their immortal pantheon.

After the Germanic era,

In what is believed to be 597 AD,

English was enlarged even more,

By the advent of Christianity.

Thanks to the Roman penchant for conquest,

Latin had been something to abhor,

Christianity's themes of love and peace,

Helped popularize “font”, “bishop” and “martyr”.

Time and history passed on,

Then, cerca 800 AD, or so,

Along came the Vikings,

Bringing violent words galore.

Their language was extremely brutal,

And reflected their rapacious lives,

For among the over 2,000 words English gained,

Were “drag”, “ransack”, “give”, “take” and “die”.

And so the years passed, once again,

Until 1066 came around,

With William the Conqueror,

Taking the British crown.

From France he brought,

Terms such as “council” and “parliament”,

And eventually made anglicized French,

The language of government.

Besides words with such political definitions,

There came some with legal meaning,

Such as “evidence”, “justice”, “jury” and “judge”,

Which are used today to describe more than criminal' dirty dealings.

And over time, new words came into being,

As people of various occupations,

Coined new terms to describe the things,

They interacted with on a frequent or daily basis/

“Cow”, “Sheep” and “Swine”,

Came from the English farmers,

While “beef”, “mutton” and “pork”,

Came from those wealthy enough to buy them.

And so many, many words were derived from the Normans,

Such as “jewel”, “fruit”, “music” and “melody”,

But all was not so blissful or peaceful,

As shown by “war”, “poor”, “pain” and the need for “charity”.

Then, as the Hundred Years war began,

Nations added new terms to their vocabulary.

Mostly military words and phrases,

Like “solider”, “army” and “navy².

Well, this occurred from the fourteenth to fifteenth century,

Then Shakespeare rose to prominence,

And created a vast array of new words,

That are still used in today's English.

Certainly worth “perusing”,

Are his contributions,

He alone created thousands of terms,

For his plays and compositions.

After the Shakespearean era,

Came King James' Bible in 1611,

Instead of words, it gave English phrases,

Like the metaphorical “fly in the ointment”.

The “ends of the earth” were visualized,

and Hell's depths given “fire and brimstone”.

As the “powers that be” fulfilled their “heart's desire”,

When laymen believed that they had “the wisdom of Solomon”.

But as religion began to fade away,

Science accrued numerous discoveries,

Leaving scientists to describe their concepts,

With new words like “pendulum” and “electricity”

Alongside the “gravity” of physics,

Another burgeoning field was biology.

With words like “acid”, “tonsil” and “cardiac,

English was growing quite rapidly³.

Besides the flourishing sciences,

So too was English spreading,

As the British Empire,

Decided that the world needed conquering.

First, they went to the Carribean,

And learned to “barbecue”.

But this hardly interested those back home,

So they pretended that “cannibals” captained the “canoes”

Then onwards to India,

Where they gave the natives an plethora of problems,

In exchange for learning “yoga”,

And about cummerbunds and the color crimson.

Later, Africa too was invaded,

And their religion reduced to mockery,

As the words taken were given negative connotations,

Like “voodoo” and “zombie”.

Their eastern interests, satisfied,

The British turned to look south,

Then proceede to ravage Australia,

while “nuggets” and “boomerangs” were picked up.

Then as the empire began to fail,

America rose to prominance and power,

Spreading their version of the language,

And changing English forever.

It started in the 17^th century,

As, filled with hope,

Settlers arrived on America's shores,

From all across Europe.

After arrival, the pilgrims,

Said a Thanksgivng grace,

Amazed by the abundance of life,

Like “pumpkins” and “maize”.

Though they would eventually “squash” the native culture,

(The word was actually supposed to describe the plant),

They also partook of the “moose” and “racoon”,

Before claiming all the land.

But these Britishers were not alone,

In describing the food in America.

The Dutch brought “cookies”, the Germans “pretzels”,

The Italians? “Pizza”, “Pasta” and the “Mafia”³.

After the 1800's came the Industrial Revoultion,

Which dominated the century,

As words like “whitecollar” and “bluechip”,

Were used in the economy.

“Capitalism”, was the economic system,

People capitalized on for their gain,

But the malpractice and “mergers” of monopolies,

Led to “price-fixing” and “downsizing”.

Then came the “World Wars”, ending the Depression,

But taking many men's livelihoods,

And along with “breadlines” and “bomber jets”,

It brought about the rationing of goods.

Post this time of conflict,

Came the Technological Revolution,

As the creation of “cellphones” and “laptops”

Changed language and “telecommunications”⁵.

Yet, despite English's growing diction

The prevalece of electronic abbreviations

Is placing many terms near extinction.

Words like “” and “” are in a precarious situation

So, to the reader, it should be quite apparent,

That, like most other things, there is nothing stable about language.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. Well, that put a damper on “charity”, as “markets” closed
   and most people lost their desire for “mercy”.
2. In part due ot the Royal Society,
   Which was founded in sixteen sixty.
3. Though the last is not edible,
   They were quite instrumental,
   In American culture, and deserve a mention,
   Though their ethics were questionable.

4. x

5. With the arrival of “email” and “tweeting”,
   Paper and ink near oblivion, replaced by “text messaging”.
   Social Media is also greatly expanding
   With blogs and Facebook giving a new meaning to “liking”.
   As “selfies” and “snapchats” become more important,
   And people thrive on status updates
   “Nomophobia” is increasingly prevalent.
   And replies cannot seem to wait.
   Then, to guard our precious “software”
   We “download” protections
   Among which are “Anti-virus” programs and “firewalls”
   To secure our private information

(If you like long, historically-oriented poems, I have another interminable one on a particularly fascinating epoch coming soon....)

Playground

Like psychedelic stars,
shards of glass sparkle,
on the expanse of black tar.

Yet less than a few feet away,
a puddle glows like liquid gold
under the afternoon sun's rays.

Shouts and laughter blur behind,
Car horns and shrieking whistles,
As cacophonous conversations collide.

Yet birds still trill their melodies,
Barely audible unless you are listening,
their music flowing from the trees

The jungle gym spreads,
the rungs caging us in,
steel branches overhead.

Yet we can soar past the clouds.
On the swings we fly,
To the farthest reaches of imagination.

The world is only black and white.
Some things sit in dark,
others in light.

Yet sometimes, under the slide,
Grey shadows cover those who walk,
Between the woodchip lines.

Retribution

For so only so much time,
is it possible for them to try,
to pull the wool over other's eyes,
and believe that when shrouded in lies,
their secrets shall not ever come to light

For when one takes leave of their senses,
there will come a time when despite their pretensions,
they shall be left to wallow in stillness,
burdened by the weight of consequences.

Retribution is greater than revenge,
and is a much more potent lesson,
for it shows no discrimination,
and shatters every false illusion,
in harsh, brilliant illumination.

So they lie in solitude,
their own hearts and heads their only refuge,
as mistakes cannot be removed,
indelible marks, inked in rue,
for they shadow everything the errant shall do.

I apologize for the delay. Things have been quite hectic the past two weeks.

All talk and tears

There once was an organization,

Called The United Nations,

A decade ago,

After meetings and so,

They came to eight conclusions.

The Millennium Development Goals,

As they were so called,

Were meant to try,

And bring to right,

The problems of the world.

We listen to really sad songs,

which lamented all the many wrongs,

In the world, as it is,

And the way many people live,

In places where mercy is gone.

There are pictures we see,

That show the carnage caused by cruelty,

Or the plight of those,

Who have lost all hope,

And who were treated inhumanely.

They bring no tears to my eyes,

Though others may take fright,

For what good does it give,

To sob and shriek and snivel,

Then decide to ignore their plight?

They who dwell in ambiguity

Have no need of our pity,

For they are people too,

Who can laugh and love true,

And would much prefer global amity,

To the enmity that is characterizes their grim reality.

A visit to a village

Off the bus, onto the grounds,

Oh, gracious me,

Half the houses are thatched huts,

With absolutely no privacy!

Goats in the paths

People everywhere,

No personal space,

And vehicles are rare.

The children, however,

Smile in absolute glee,

Such a quantity of visitors,

Is a treat, to say the least.

The others pair off,

As the children gather round,

I stand, utterly confused,

“translate for me, anyone?”

I just think you should know,

I had moved here a couple months ago,

And though it was my first tongue,

Now Tamil is confusing to the core.

I tag along with Rupaa,

And some other girls,

The village kids are spinning tops,

would we like some turns?

Wind the string round the wood body,

(The tops look a lot like turnips)

To spin them, hold, then release,

While you twist your wrist.

I decide to take a turn,

But to my chagrin,

The wooden thing goes “thud”,

Without a single spin.

I had spun the thread,

Then flicked it right,

But it hit the sand hard,

And I said “I tried”.

Those villagers,

Were a whole different sort,

As with minuscule effort,

they could spin those tops.

Little wood tornadoes in the hands,

The skill with which they were twirled

Spinning in the sands,

left me quite impressed.

In conclusion,

I would say this goes to show,

That life is can be quite interesting,

Without a touchscreen in tow.

(This visit occurred sometime this March, I believe)

First Impressions

Bare brown skin,

caked in the dust of a thousand feet,

All rushing around,

never a pause to breathe.

Draped in a riot of colors,

a patchwork of cultures and creations.

A dazzling discordance.

surrounded by assorted traditions.

Little odd shoppes and markets,

tucked in the sides of streets.

Selling an assortment,

Of foodstuffs and novelties.

And the temples.

Painted spires reaching skyward.

Engraved with the tales of ages.

Carvings of stories not longer told.

Face lined with cracks,

Blackened by bursts of petroleum,

blown from broken vehicles,

and the baking heat of the sun.

Jostling and gesticulative,

Never a pause to consider,

holding open doors,

for strangers.

But all too ready,

to swap questions and answers.

Teachers turning blind eyes,

to the trading of test papers.

Covered in contradictions,

and jumbled juxtapositions.

Moving through a system,

of systematic confusion.

Witnessing humanity,

in all its humors and hues.

New perspectives,

of how people live and choose.

Little Bothers and Big Sitters

Others find it unbelievable,

The things I put up with,

And so many "only" children,

Do not know the half of it.

They think that sibling relationships,

Are easier than a cakewalk,

They do not know what it is like,

To get a bruises from a misplaced LEGO block.

They think that sibling relationships,

Are as sweet and simple as pie.

They have never had to deal,

With a toddler on a sugar-high

They think that sibling relationships,

Are nothing but fun and games.

They have probably never taken,

A spitball to the face.

They think that sibling relationships,

Are the stuff of dreams,

They have never been woken at midnight,

By nightmarish screams.

They think that sibling relationships,

Are a source of constant money,

But the truth of the matter is,

Parents expect you to babysit for free,

(And at all the oddest hours,

The reason being "You are family")

They think that sibling relationships,

Are easier than they seem,

They have never dealt with,
A straight hour of whining, or crying.

They think sibling relationships,
Are nothing too grand,
They will never, ever have,
Someone who will always forgive,
Time and time again,

And who really loves you
In more than riches and less than rags.
(that is, besides some parents
but I, for now, will not go there....)

Ode to Margaret Atwood's "There Once Was" and the English Language

The choice of words that we choose to use,
can lead messages to be understood or confused.

For though they may have the same definition,
words drastically differ in their connotation.

The power of words is not based solely on communication,
but the twisting and manipulation of information.

And the meaning with which society imbibes them,
are reflected in cultural differences in conversation.

So the differing opinions of person's one and two,
show that they possess extremely different world views.

Humans possess an inability to agree,
on the way they should write the story.

Because every person's perceptions,
influence their individual experience.

And so, agreeing to disagree,
Is the best way to avoid linguistic disharmony.

For we each give meaning to speech
that differ from others in our family.

As our stories are reflections of our words,
while other paths are shaped by those others.

Shootings and Suicides

We are so blinded,

By the storms of our own sorrows,

That we often forget those,

Who give up their tommorows,

Because they cannot face another day.

We are so stuck,

In the anguish coating out hearts,

That we often forget those,

Who carry indelible scars,

Made by weapons greater than any turned on us.

We may have experienced misery,

And the pain cannot be washed away,

But what about all the others,

Who suffer in silence every single day,

Their problems deeper than ours ever were?

We are consumed by our own complications,

Though most are relatively petty

And while some problems are real issues,

Most cannot compare to the misery,

That lead youth to give up their futures.

We have seen the recent increase,

In school shootings and suicides,

It is not in the least humane,

To continue to turn a blind eye,

Because we feel other things demand attention.

We say that we take precautions,

But protocol does not do much good,

When children give up their will to live,

Because there is nothing they feel they can do,

Except kill.

We are already wrecking our planet,

Our environmental future is uncertain.

Must we also destroy our hopes,

By watching as adolescents,

Across the world are hurt.

We understand that pain is a part of life,

And that everyone must experience it,

Sometimes, however, we forget to remember,

That there is more to life than "perfect"

However one defines that term.

We should take the time to figure,

That we are all humans,

And that, as a part of nature,

We are built on imperfections,

And these are what allow us to innovate,

Create wonderful inventions,

And that, no matter how stressful it seems,

There is a brighter time ahead for children,

If both parents and peers help them.

This is in light of the increasing student suicides in India and the recent school shooting in America :(it seems like there are at least two a year, now): It is not just the adults who are shocked by these events. Such events profoundly disturbs many teenagers, as well.

The Boxes

_{It is here,}

The day has dawned,

Time has passed,

And the boxes have gone.

Vacant rooms,

That sit forlorn,

Devoid of life,

For the boxes have gone.

The floors are bleached,

The walls are redone,

The windows are shut,

The boxes have gone.

The shelves sit blankly,

Everything else sent on,

We are finally leaving,

To where boxes have gone.

A few days ago,

In the early dawn,

They came and went,

Now the boxes are gone.

The times were golden,

Yet they seem not so long,

But other things lie ahead,

Where the boxes have gone.

As we leave, I look back,

At our past home,

And with so many intangibles,

The boxes have gone.

(This is quite a sad one, but I penned it the day I moved halfway across the world. I am feeling nostalgic today)

Rainy days

The raindrops run like glass chariots,
Racing their way across window panes,
Leaving behind trails of droplets,
To mark from whence they came.

Throughout the week,
The constant, incessant pattering,
On bus roofs and foyer canopies,
Like a thousand crystal cups clattering.

In a toast to the next season,
Heralded by the luminous archways,
That adorn the sky when the rain is done,
A promise of greener days.

(A late monsoon is happening now, and it is raining almost every day)

Dreamcatchers

Nightmares plagued me every night.
Bringing to life my every fright.

I floated dreamcatchers above my bed,
But the darkness still enters my head.

Because Nightmares are not held by nets,
Unless pain can be caught in those threads.

The shadows with their cold claws,
Are manifestations of perceived flaws.

They twist the things I see and do,
Sinuously managing to slip through.

I could create a wall of dreamcatchers,
Yet it really would not matter.

Because nightmares are not pulled from the air,
But from the depths of our own despair.

Autumn

Autumn is for a new beginning,
As leaves fall, the summer is ending.

Across the nation, school doors open wide,
After a few months of summertime.

Apples ripen on the orchard trees,
Pumpkins grow amongst vines and leaves.

Amber carpets of leaves and lights,
The advent of crisp, dark nights.

Harvests ripen as skies grow clear,
Autumn winds herald the end of the year.

If teenagers would.

If you can keep your head held high,
When others raise a hue and cry,
About the things you want to try,
And while letting the spiteful edges slide,
Acknowledge those comment's positive side.

If you can hear gossip, but not insult another,
Or stand for your beliefs, though you stand alone,
Or voice your criticisms, yet not slander,
And treat others with all the goodness you own.

If you can dream, without living in one,
And like, without choosing to lust,
If you can dress in rags or a crown,
Then stay true to your purpose.

If when you are surrounded by liars,
You can retain your honesty,
If you can fight the good fight, fair,
Though others may cheat to succeed.

If you can live without a mask,
And let your personality shine through,
If you can question what society asks,
Yet understand your weaknesses, too.

If you can attain the things you hold dear,
Then resist the urge to obsess.
If you can treat gain and loss with equal cheer,
Despite the materialism of the rest.

If you can love without any fear,
Yet let the things you love go free.
If you can defend yourself when danger draws near,
And not let another's presence become a necessity.

If you can fight, but refrain from hurting,
Defend yourself from easy aggravation,
If you can bear others misinterpretations,
Then objectively perceive a situation.

If  you strive to perfect your greatest passion,
Be it athletic, academic or art.
If you can climb the steepest path with enthusiasm,
And never let obstacles dampen your spark.

If you can see the hidden wonders,
In the smallest of mundane things.
If you feel joy at the simple pleasures,
That each new day brings.

If you can explore the validity,
of dogmatic doctrines and claims,
If you can create your own duty,
And from self-doubt, refrain.

If you can smile at your reflection,
Cherishing your body, mind and soul,
If you can understand that life is a decision,
Then choose to go for the gold.

If you can see the strength within,
That comes from your heart and your head,
And understand that though exteriors may fade,
A powerful personality becomes the stuff of legend.

If you never retire into the dark and small places,
Avoid treating life as a wager,
You shall never again feel belabored,
Have the freedom to blaze new spaces,
And, what is more, you will survive being a teenager.

Hello. This was based off of Rudyard Kipling's poem "If".

life lessons and other people's poems

Rage at the dying lights,

But do not loathe the ravens in the night.

Why be scared by which road to take,

Or fret about future and fate.

No goblin or ghoul can sway a resolute soul,

From the market or from their goal.

Treat others with acute consideration,

Then there is no need for a curse for a nation.

For hope is no fragile bird,

Out against the vicious world.

It is an eagle, ring'd with clouds,

That can withstand an onslaught of doubts

Do not fear the captain dying,

Consider it time to seek new things

Do not stand to watch a dream deferred,

Or idly sit by when witnessing the tables turned.

Now no poison tree should grow in a human heart,

No face is should be half sunk, a shattered visage.

Life is not riddled with “ifs”,

If conscientiousness becomes a decision.

the omniscience of Words

Words are born from the feelings,
in every human's heart.
They are the only things,
that tear this world apart.

Words are born from anger,
at the injustice in life.
They are used by some,
to vent their strife.

Words are born from sorrow,
at what could have been.
They are used by some,
to destroy others' dreams.

Words are born from envy,
at other's abilities.
They are used by some,
to create insecurities.

Words are born from rage,
at one's inabilities.
They are used by some,
To make others doubt their worth.

Words are born from hate,
at the wrongs long-suffered.
They are used by some,
to force that pain on others.

Words are made from fear,
at losing what one loves.
They are used by some,
to hold others down.

Words are made from the darkness,
that dwells in most beings.
They are twisted by some,
to mean terrible things.

But words can be made from hope,
for the future that lies ahead.
They can be used by many,
to support and sustain, as well.

Words can be made from a love,
towards the rest of humanity.
They can be used by many,
to foster empathy.

Words can be made from the courage,
of those who never surrender the peaceful fight.
They can be used by many,
to set the world's problems to right.

Words can be used to cause pain and prejudice,
and create grief and rue.
But they can be used to heal and help,
and preserve the memories of the good we do.

Boredom

Boredom is a social construction.
It indicates a lack of inspiration,
And the absence of innovation,
As the bored are unable to use information,
To satisfy their dissatisfaction,
With the available recreation,
By utilizing their imagination.

What good is an expensive education,
That grooms grace and instills sophistication,
If those who get it lack the disposition,
And the drive or inclination,
To come to the realization,
That success is not gained through affectation
Or the use of shoddy pretension,
That does not happen to fool anyone.

They buy up the qualifications,
Pay up for the certifications,
Pick their way through examinations,
Then sit in some big corporations,
Devoid of the motivations,
Or the dedications
Required to exceed limitations,
And proceed to stay in the same position.

Having abandoned all aspirations,
Unable to engage in celebrations,
Trapped by the lack of options,
Feeling nought but irritations,
Wishing for a vindication,
A way to pursue one's vocation,
Yearning for variation,
Longing for liberation,
Eventually fading into oblivion.

So before your life reaches its culmination,
With your faculties past expiration,
And you find yourself on a permanent vacation,
Work to resolve your frustration,
By achieving the reclamation,
And facilitating the careful cultivation,
Of your zeal and determination,
To go on every exploration,
Bring into reality every creation,
And feel content with your exaltation,
At improving your own situation.

~Aaradhana N.

Some People

Sometimes it is hard to see the good,

When actions and intentions are misunderstood,

And everywhere we seem to look,

Someone is acting violent or cruel.

Some people find it difficult to respect their identity,

They find it easier to hide what makes them extraordinary,

Even at the cost of undermining their personality.

Some people find it difficult to understand others,

They find it easier to make them outsiders,

Even at the cost of ignorance about other cultures.

Some people find it difficult to accept the truth,

They find it easier to behave crude and rude,

Even at the cost of treating others in a manner most uncouth.

Some people find it difficult to rethink their dogmas,

They find it easier to ignore the flaws,

Even at the cost of independent thought.

Some people find it difficult to value diversity,

They find it easier to live without empathy,

Even at the cost of their compassion and humanity.

Some people find it difficult to deal with this,

They find this rampant uncommunicativeness,

To be unquestionably, undeniably, utterly stupid,

Feeling that instead, people should just listen,

To the ideas of their fellow humans,

And either learn or debate with them,

In order to reach a consensual conclusion,

To all the problems we are faced with,

Without depriving others of compassion,

Being courteous in all provocations and situations.

And therefore, as a means of expression,

They sit down and pen lengthy poems,

To try and get other people to quit their pretensions,

And hold civilized, intelligent conversations!

~Aaradhana N.

To all wonderful weirdos.....

Apparently, there is a holiday for this!

To all the other odd ones,

The misfits and anyone,

Who is not like everyone.

To all those who prefer dogeared books,

And quiet, sunlit library nooks,

To about the way it looks,

And deeming TV something to forsook.

To all those with a wicked sense of humor,

Whom others cannot comprehend,

But manage to enthuse every room they are in,

With their sharp wit and joking intent.

To all those with a passion for sport,

Who get up every day with no other hope,

Than to become one of the professionals,

Even though others may not offer much support.

To all those who live for music,

Whether digital, electric or acoustic,

Who express themselves with instruments,

And find in song the greatest stimulant.

To all those with a love of logic,

Who enjoy any puzzle worth solving,

And regardless of others constant mocking,

Manage to become class valedictorian.

To those who while their hours,

Locked behind bedroom doors,

Holding gaming consoles,

Playing for all their worth.

To those who watch others,

From the outskirts,

because they are different,

And therefore deemed “weird”

To all the wonderful weirdos,

Who ever read this blog post,

You should probably know,

That September 8^th honors all those,

Who have bottle-thick glasses from reading,

Who have ink-stained palms from writing

Who have stiff limbs from all types of dancing,

Who have hoarse throats from a love of singing,

Who have calloused fingers from instrument playing,

Who have numb thumbs from video gaming,

Who have aching bodies from athletics training,

Who have rough hands from long gardening,

Who have sore brains from problem solving,

Who have pained wrists from computer coding,

Who have broken hearts from others teasing,

Who have a world of ideas from dreaming,

To every fanboy and fangirl,

Who ever walked on this world,

Regardless of those who jeered and sneered

Celebrate the very reasons, others call you “weird”.

Night Sounds

The silver sound is carried through the night,

Gliding on the wisps of wind,

That brush against the windowsill,

And whisper softly into the waiting ears,

Of those who seek something greater still.

It visits while the recipient,

Lays in bed, fast asleep,

Caught in the throes of nocturnal fancies,

And nudges the edges of their consciousness,

Telling them that some hopes should be believed.

It is in the sounds of the crickets symphony,

And the thrum of cars on the street,

And the owl's long hoots in the dark

And the patter of stray water drops,

Reminding us that nothing is beyond our reach,

If we choose to keep our dreams

Thorn in my side

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Read on ahead,
If you know what is good for you.

Daisies are white,
Buttercups are yellow,
Time flies,
And feelings mellow.

Peonies are pink,
Ferns are green,
Here is what I think,
You are dead to me.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Dear X,
We are through.

(My first attempt at a snarky poem.)

Cake

A symbol of celebration,
Part of the culture of every nation,
A symbol of class and station,
Part of every festive occasion.

The paragon of all things sweet,
A staple whether on land and sea,
The paragon of a decadent treat,
A staple whether grand or petite.

Karpatka, Kladdaka, and Roulade,

Marble, Crumble and Lemon

Povitica, Cassata and Croquenbouche,

Black Forest, Red Velvet and Chiffon.

Banana, Babka and Sachertorte,

Chocolate, Coconut and Bouchon,

Vanilla, Madeira and Panforte,

Suncake, Mooncake, and Panettone.

Everywhere on the surface of the planet,

In every village, town and hamlet,

Everywhere oven fires glow lambent,

In the spread at every banquet.

The most varied confection yet to date,

The snack almost anyone can partake,

The taste to which everyone can relate,

The world is, quite obviously, united by cake!

Teacher

A teacher is a person,
Who is always on your case,
Just waiting and watching,
To berate every mistake.

They are also people,
Who quite obviously thrive,
On harping after their pupils,
Both day and night.

They are people,
From who no student is safe,
One single misplaced assignment,
Is all it takes.

Then wrath of assorted kinds,
Is heaped upon the unfortunate's head,
A barrage of shouts and reprimands,
Until they cannot sleep, for quivering in bed.

But they are the people
Who do not seem to exist beyond school walls,
For they seem to know too many things,
And have seen it all.

But if there is one thing,
One sees across the subjects,
It is that there are positives,
Balancing all the negatives.

A teacher is also a person,
With a very special purpose,
To instill knowledge,
And enhance young intelligence.

They are also people,
Who hold a heartfelt passion,
For passing their wisdom,
To a future generations.

They are people who persevere,
Through the years and ages,
They have a command of technology,
And are usually current with such changes.

So.....
Even if the students tax them,
And cause them so much strife,
Teachers should probably know,
That they are an integral part of our lives.

They hold a place in our hearts,
Despite the tribulations in class,
Because, without them,
Very few children would pass.

And many students believe,
For though they do not show it openly,
Behind the irregularities and the idiosyncrasies,
Students really think of their teachers quite highly.

So, take the time to say,
That we are thankful for what they do,
And despite all the trials,
We students honestly appreciate you.

(In India, there is a holiday called Teacher's Day that is celebrated every September 5th. In honor of some of my favorite teachers, I composed the following poem last night.

To all my teachers, past and present :  Happy Teacher's Day!!!:)

~Aaradhana N

A Secret.

Shall I tell you a secret?

It is a very disturbing one.

Can I trust you to hold on to it,

and reveal it to no one?

Shall I tell you a secret?

Promise not to tell.

Can I trust that my trust in you,

is something you will not sell?

Shall I tell you a secret?

For it is ever so big.

Can I believe that if I share it,

it will stay hidden?

Shall I tell you a secret?

Please tell me you will not laugh.

Can I trust you to take me at my word,

and not go prying anywhere?

Shall I tell you my secret?

I have kept it for so long.

So here is my secret:

I often think in song!

(This one was inspired by Dr. Seuss, to some extent.)

Define Peace......

What humanity craves,

Through the passing of the days,

Is shattered by the incessant crusades,

And never long to stay.

Affection and cooperation,

Friendship and collaboration

All humans helping another,

Facilitates reconciliation.

Decreasing disparity,

Instilling equality of opportunity,

Demonstrating diversity,

Inspiring understanding and empathy.

An end to the plague of cruelty!

Ceasing mindless agony!

An end to avarice and acrimony!

Subsequently, free

~Aaradhana Natarajan

Windows

Setting sun,
Rising moon,
The windows shuttered,
The world slumbers.

Beyond the window,
Stars shine bright,
Radiant diamonds,
In the night.

Beyond the window,
A forest green,
Brims with secrets,
As of yet unseen.

Beyond the window,
Lie distant lands,
Filled with wonders,
Beyond the reach of my hands.

Beyond the window,
A river flows,
The shimmering water,
Dotted with fishing boats.

Beyond the window,
Lay mountains pristine,
Forbiddingly cold,
Though they brilliantly gleam

Beyond the window,
Dwell creatures unknown,
Piercing the air,
With inhuman moans.

Beyond the window,
Are adventures to be had,
Battles to be fought,
And multiple paths

But beyond the window,
Is also where realities wait,
Subduing whatever,
Dreaming minds can create

Beyond the window,
Is where hopes wait,
Falling and fading,
As the nights turn to day.

Beyond the window,
Is where dreams wait,
With the window pane as,
As imagination's gate.

Yet beyond the window,
Is where possibilities wait,
For those dreamers,
Who give their visions weight.

Setting Moon,
Rising Sun,
Windows are opened,
Journeys are begun.

~Aaradhana N.