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Zzzz. December 20, 2006

Posted by K in Uncategorized.
11 comments

Self explanatory 🙂

Be back in a while. Happy Christmas and New Year to everybody reading :).

51, not out…In Your Face, ha ha :) December 16, 2006

Posted by K in People I honour.
10 comments

Guess who’s back!! : )

In other matters, Pollock is losing hair! He is bald up there! Needs one wicket to touch 400. Yay Polly 🙂

December 9, 2006

Posted by K in Uncategorized.
5 comments

I felt I must borrow this. Read it on http://lostrealist.wordpress.com/ .

The Realist

Optimisits see the roses,
Pessimists see the thorns,
Nihilists deny they exist,
Rationalists ponder on.

Idealists vainly seek,
A rose without thorns,
I smell the roses,
Laugh, and move on.

December 9, 2006

Posted by K in Uncategorized.
3 comments

Haha, the world is so big, and the grass is green 🙂

Full stop December 9, 2006

Posted by K in Abstract Ramblings, Nonsense, Poem.
2 comments

I do not punctuate

Since my words rebelled

But I like rules

Because rules are rules

So I punctuate.

December 9, 2006

Posted by K in Abstract Ramblings, Nonsense, Poem.
4 comments

I’ a little tea pot

Sitting on my spot

All of yesterday I spent

Reading Paradise Lost

 

I have a piece of candy

Extracted from my brain

People come and look at it

And tell me that it rained

Its pink in colour,

With bittle bits of blue

Those who leave their raincoats home

Are far and between few.

Its candy,

Doubtless, dandy

Won’t you have a piece?

Its made from bits and pieces

That also belonged to you.

I have a mixer grinder

That’s very good at its job

So when I pull out the candy

And skate the dandy

I must wonder why

You turn your face away

I must wonder why

You put a spanner in my works

When you cemented the sky.

December 5, 2006

Posted by K in Uncategorized.
9 comments

Its exam time again. What fun! Snigger, snigger. When I switched on the computer, I thought I had a lot to say. Now, I discover, I don’t. Much as I’m tempted to finish before I start a ramble-actually, no, I’m not.  I like rambling. It’s so freeing. The thoughts can go from wherever to wherever, and I can chase them, not caring whether I catch them or not. I got called cynical today. Because I don’t like mush. That’s simplifying it a bit, A, but isn’t that what you said 🙂 . Hm. I’m not a cynic. I can be cynical (something I’ve grown into. Happens. With experience.), but I am not a cynic. I don’t doubt and disbelieve on principle, and I don’t derive any pleasure from cynicism. It doesn’t construct my identity in any way. I admit, freely and gladly, however, that I dislike mush, defining ‘mush’ to mean, well, mush. I don’t feel warm and melty when I hear sweet nothings uttered by one mushball to another. Ofcourse when the mushball is on tv, it’s a teeny bit easier to pretend its not fake, but for some reason, public display of mush(and mush is not to be restricted to only lovers) strikes me as hollow, probably because I can’t ever imagine myself doing it, nor do I understand it. That doesn’t mean I debunk the whole notion of mush; mush for me is different. A grass ring when one marries, rather than a gold/silver/whatever one is my idea of ultimate mush. Hm. Not too many people can understand why a grass ring is incredibly romantic 🙂 .Dead grass mind- for that incredible colour, and lack of the horrible smell of fresh cut grass.

Sigh, ramble power is not on full on today.

Speed December 2, 2006

Posted by K in Life, Nonsense, Poem.
2 comments

This is not so old. Class 12, I think.

Life is a journey

And you’re a car

Running at ninety miles

An hour

You see the need

To brake ahead

You see a roundabout

You need to negotiate

There’s always

Someone stopping you

There are breakdowns

All around you

You see them, cars,

Whizzing by

And wonder why you can’t have

Just one smooth ride

You ache, and yearn to

Rev it up, and let loose

Speed over bumps, and cracks and walls

And not stop for anything at all

 

There’s less to think

No time to feel

When you fly down the road

At that awesome speed.

And more… December 2, 2006

Posted by K in Extreme Nostalgia, From The Attic, Life, Poem.
7 comments

My Ring

This was my second poem of sorts..written in class 6, so that would make me…10/11. I remember a little maroon diary that I had appropriated and put in scary drawings to keep people off my property :). I used that diary for the first time when I needed rough paper for a rough draft of a project in history, but ended up making it my own, in all senses of the word. The first poem in that diary, and in my life (in a matter of speaking) was called My Shadow (and no, it was not a misnomer 🙂 ), and I remember being so surprised that it rhymed regularly enough, and had some sort of a rhythm. I was so kicked that I proceeded to write this second poem the very same day :). When this ended, I was on a high. I liked what I wrote, I surprised myself, and that unleashed my ‘poetry wave’,lol. I think I must have got in 20-30 poems in 2 years. I remember i particularly favoured long, ‘epical’ poems, :D:D, and I still have pages and pages of eulogising a bud(flower bud), a spirit, among other things 🙂

I’m not going to apologise for unleashing this one.. 🙂 ; I’m still very fond of it 🙂

 

On every market day,

When men and women so gay

Sell their wares

And attend fairs

I hold up a little ring

And start to sing

“Come and get it!

Come and get it!

This ring

Is fit for a king,”

I continue to sing.

“Look at this pearl,

Fit for an Earl

Do not miss this chance

And have a glance

At this pearl

Fit for an Earl”.

The day whizzes by,

And darkness lights the sky.

I give a sigh,

My hopes are still high

Someday,someone will by my ring

Till then, I will continue to sing,

On every market day,

When men and women so gay,

Sell their wares

And attend fairs…


Regurgitations December 2, 2006

Posted by K in From The Attic, God, Life, Poem.
1 comment so far

Some Old stuff I now proceed to put up owing to an acute case of I-don’t-want-to-write-but-want-to-update-blog 🙂

Home

This is a simultaneous example of terrible poetry and lying through my pants. I was 14 or 15 when I wrote it and even at that time I knew what trash it was. Why it still lies undeleted is because I take strange pleasure in occasionally(hopefully) spewing utter trash (not to be confused with nonsense, which I delight and pride in 😉 )

The strange land freezes my soul,

I cannot make any friends.

For deep inside, my heart’s calling

Out loud to my homeland.


My home is by the green blue sea

Where cries of the gulls sound through the day

The smell of the sea, the sound of the sea

How I survive without them is a mystery.


The sand at home is golden and warm

I yearn for the feel of its shells.

Oh, the sun’s lazy rays,

I long to bask in there.


My home is a little cottage,

On an island in the sea.

Its rich brown wood

Encloses all my needs.

I had a sandy garden

Oh the marvels I grew in there!

Lettuce plants and bushes of rose

They all grew in my care.


Behind my cottage there grew a tree

So big, so old, oh so green!

On a hot summer’s day I yearn and yearn

To lie in the willing arms of its shade.


No more is that little path

Walked upon by feet

For the door of my cottage is locked and barred

And dusty has grown the friendly porch.


Years ago the letter had come,

And seduced me to a land far away

Money sufficed not the needs

The needs of my hungry soul.


I’ll go back, unlock and unbar that door,

Will sweep all the dust

From my porch floor.

Un-weeded, my garden will spring to life,

My tree will share its shade.

The sand, the sea

Will once again beckon to me.

The gulls, their cries I shall hear once more.

My island will yet be in sight

When I board the homeward bound ship-

And return home once again.

God’s Hand

Same age, written in a moment of I’m-amused, not to be taken too seriously, a funny-funny poem. :eyes: Yup, I realise thats a terrible description, but I’m felling funny-funny, a different funny-funny, at the moment.

A whip, my whip, so handy a tool

It’s shaken and worked up many a fool

It can stir up a storm, or calm a squall

Under its power lie one and all

One crack, a smack, and trees will deliver,

One wave, a swish, and time goes on forever.

One twirl, a flick, will fill a pea pod.

For I am Nature, I am God.

Behold, you humans, you think you are so great

In my whip I hold your fate

One gesture, a mere twitch

Can undo you world, your every stitch.

What stays my hand?

What saves your land?

It is my favourite creation,

It is Man.