Shall go on writing my poems

Today is World Poetry Day. Seven years back, after a break of nearly five decades, when I again picked up the pen to write, I didn’t know that such a day even existed. I won’t have known today also but now that I am in Facebook, how will I be allowed to forget.  So I paid my dues and posted a poem on my wall (or is it timeline) written in my mother tongue Axomiya (Assamese). I just now translated the poem to English. Posting both the poems here.

Pearls of words,
In solitude, drip;
Hear a sweet celestial melody
by the side of the creek,
As the crickets chirp.

In the distance
A bird unknown,
A melancholy tune sings,
Nature resplendent in advent of spring,
Spreads a carpet of vibrant green.

I wait for the
rose bud to bloom,
Maybe in her petals are hidden,
The words that will make
My poem sing.

The gentle breeze whispers
In my ears,
What secrets does she say;
I know not what melodies I hear, as
My heart dances in joy.

Nary a rain cloud in the sky,
Frogs gone berserk in expectation,
I listen intently, in silence
I may hear,
The words of my poem crescendo.

I wait with a string in my hand,
If solitude rains pearls of words,
Gently shall I pick them up,
A necklace I shall string, and
Go on writing my poems.

ৰচি যাম মোৰ কবিতা

নিৰ্জনতাত ঝিৰ ঝিৰ কৰি সৰে
শব্দৰ মুকুতা মণি,
জুৰিৰ দাতিত জিলিৰ মাতত,
সৰগীয় মধুৰ ধ্বনি।

দূৰৈত শুনো কোনো অচিন পখীয়ে
গাইছে বিহগ ৰাগিনী,
বসন্তৰ আগমনত সাজিছে প্ৰকৃতি,
সেউজ ঘাঁহৰ দলিচা খনি।

অপেক্ষাত ম‌ই ফুলিব কেতিয়া
গোলাপৰ কলিটি,
আছে জানো লুকাই তাতে,
মোৰ কবিতাৰ শব্দ মাধুৰী?

জুৰ মলয়াই কাণে কাণে মোৰ
কিনো কথা কয় গোপনে,
নাজানো মই শুনো কিনো সুৰ,
নাচে আনন্দত হৃদয় ঘনে ঘনে।

আকাশত দেখো নেদেখোঁ বাদল,
বৃষ্টিৰ আশাত ভেকুলী পাগল,
কাণ পাতি শুনো ম‌ই কিজানিবা নিৰ্জনতাত,
শুনো মোৰ কবিতাৰ শব্দৰ মাদল।

হাতত লৈ এনাজৰী আছোঁ বহি মই,
নিৰ্জনতাই বৰষে যদি শব্দৰ মুকতা,
আলফুলে বুটলি গাঁথিম মালাধাৰি,
ৰচি যাম মোৰ কবিতা।.

Week 11 of My Fifty Two Weeks Journey with “W”

With the recent rains we had here in NorCal, spring has presented itself in all nature’s glory. Yesterday, I along with a few of my friends, hiked around nine miles from my house along Los Alamitos Creek Trail to Almaden Lake.  Everywhere one can see, it was green all around punctuated by vibrant and colorful wildflowers and spring blooms. At some parts of the trail, one would not have been wrong to assume that this might be a part of a rain forest except the weather was cool ( a balmy 60F) and not sweaty at all. I was going to post a blog in continuation of my earlier posts of Spring is in the air and Spring is in the air II when I realized that today is Write Anything Wednesday.  So this post is my endeavour to kill two birds with one stone.  I could have written a post titled Spring in the air III and then another post for Write Anything Wednesday.  That nine mile hike must have tested my old bones. The spirit is willing but the body is not cooperating at all. The result obviously is one of the many shortcuts that I had taken in my life. End result of not a single one of those shortcuts had been rewarding.  I shall definitely understand the unsympathetic reactions from my valued readers to this post.

The top two right hand corner photos are from my front yard. As I started the hike from my house, I thought it would be appropriate to include these two.  We have two flowering cherry trees in front of the house. The trees bloom with pink flowers in the spring.  Within couple of weeks after the flowers bloom, the trees suddenly become dark green with new leaves. Unfortunately day before yesterday it was raining on and off with some wind. When I was about to start my hike, I realized that the wind and rain had made a flowery pink offering to mother earth at night (that can be seen in the second photo from top right) and we won’t have the blossoms much longer.

While I was randomly babbling, I realized that I have not chosen a word starting with the letter “W” for my poem for Week 11 of my fifty two weeks journey with “W”. Wednesday is sixty percent over and I do not have much time to think and then write a poem  with it.  As I look back at our hike yesterday, I realized that though I was mesmerized by the wild flowers, I was more impressed by the weeds all around. Just a few months back the color of the landscape was brown and in a month or so it will go back to golden brown again. However the weeds, without any help from us, come back year after year, robust and vibrant with multicolored flowers. I know that if I propose to replace whatever is left of our garden, after five years of drought and water rationing, with a weed garden, I am going to get an earful. Just imagine, with a little bit of TLC and without much water we can have a beautiful weed garden.  So “Weed” it is, just not the smoking kind. Now off to think and find some idea about what to write about weeds.  First thing first, need some food for the growling belly before my food for thought.


This post is in response to Write Anything Wednesday 4-13-2016 , Daily Post Community Event, organized by  Writerish Ramblings

Featured image photos by author.

When Nothing Seems to Work

Days when nothing seems to work well
Even getting up from bed feels like hell
Everything touched start falling apart
Mind goes blank burdened with a heavy heart
When the weight of the world bears down
Everywhere is darkness, nowhere to run
Climbing into a fetal position in a cocoon
All around it’s a premonition of doom
Hiding in a corner as if it is a safe harbour
When suddenly in the air there is a soft murmur
The world is neither a bed of roses
Nor the world owes anything to you
Grass is not always green
Not always covered with dew
Get up, awake, take hold, be in control
No shame in failing
Try again
Take hold and be on a roll

सिफ़र.

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