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Showing posts from November, 2022

Sip a pinkie in the corner of a bakery

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  Sip a Pinkie in the corner of a bakery When an old friend misses returning your call  And when life throws a curve ball  Sip a pinkie in the corner of a bakery  When someone you once loved returns to hurt you  Or when an old bruise returns as a ache, new  Sip a pinkie in the corner of a bakery  The pinkie doesn’t blow away your grief But the bubbles let you breathe with relief  & some space to think  For things happen in a blink  But there’s always room for: A pinkie in the corner of a bakery PC: Edward Hopper FB Page

Padraig O Tuama: a shelter for sensitivity

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B e Strong.  F ight back. If you disagree with the above two ways of living then say Hello to Sensitivity and Vulnerability! Whoever said vulnerability isn't good, must never have met a poet or an artist. For a long while, the definitions of Strength and Fight gave me pictures of Combat but only when I began reading poetry, I realised strength is holding each other gently - being there for one other, no matter what (my grandfather endorsed the same) and giving each other space no matter how urgent it is for you to barge in to the corridors of their space. And understanding a poem with a sensitivity makes your understanding deeper.  Padraig O Tuama, from Ireland, is a shelter for sensitivity. A theologian, a poet and the host of the podcast  Poetry Unbound,  he unpacks poems -- rather, he takes us with him through a poem, understanding its essence, its scent, its meaning, its rhythm, the thought behind it. His process is not perfunctory but like a poem in itself....

She was rain (For Nanamma)

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She was rain: the silvery shimmery drops that trickle into crevices. She was rain:  Soft and gentle,  drizzling progressive thoughts that would alter our being, wet our hearts. She was rain: drops that touch your face; wrap your being with grace     

My Own

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  We are each other’s business – Gwendolyn Brooks   Title: My own   Growing up, I found my tribe among the blind They never laughed at my flab or my bob cut hair They couldn’t see it and were busy being kind   They needed a friend who never showed pity And I needed companions who wouldn’t pick on me   I recorded lessons and noted their needs in my book And they taught me lessons -- my whole being shook   Several disabilities do not meet the eye The blind have only lost sight but have a vision for their life   Many who suffer from other disabilities that provoke one another to hurt each other But the blind are abled; they taught me: Your thought is everything. Close your eyes! Nothing else, matters.