Skip to main content

A Poet's Corner

Relived a wonderful moment when I accidentally read one of my old scribblings.

There are some places where the moment you go, you feel completely at ease ; you’d stay, transfixed with a longing in your heart to be left there forever! It could be a library, a church, a temple, top of a mountain, a beach, an island, a hut in the middle of a forest, a river bank .. it could even be someone’s house.

S’s house, it’s not a house, it is a being. The moment you enter, you feel a warm, smooth embrace. There is certainly something there.. something in the way the house was built, something in the way things were arranged, something in the way lighting was set up, something that kept you suspended in a dream-like state.

The flute at the shelf near the bottom of the stairs was lazily placed but you felt as though it blew music into your mind. The winding stairs that led to a small study upstairs beckoned you to go up and when you did, it wasn’t merely going up in space, you felt as though you were elevated to a higher state.. you floated into heaven.

In the small study upstairs, the books on the shelf didn’t seem like sad children who were forcefully disciplined to stand at attention.. they seemed rather relaxed and smiling, leaning on each other, beckoning you to hold and touch and feel and experience.

You might end up standing there forever, wishing that the moment never went away..

But if you did, you’d miss the patio and the overlooking swimming pool and the painting stand by the side.

Dear Poet, thanks for making my day memorable.

When I think back, there is much more to describe. Much more beyond description.

Comments

Unknown said…
nice blog
i like the content of your blog
web design mumbai
Ash said…
It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop. ~Vita Sackville-West
Ash said…
Dear Mr.R, Write you will, right? [-:)]

Popular posts from this blog

The Other World

"Ankle deep, he waded through the bluebells. His spirit rose and exalted... as he breathed in the sun-drenched air. The glorious day was in its last decline. Long shadows lay on the sward... and from above the leaves dripped their shimmering drops of gold-green light. Moths and butterflies swarmed in merry hosts... flittering here, glimmering there. But, hush. Could that be a deer?" When we were searching for "Tess of d'Urbervilles" in the library memories rushed in, almost overwhelming me.  Memories of school days when I would look at a bookshelf and see different worlds, when Hercule Poirot and Dirk Pitt and Sherlock Holmes loomed larger than life, when the reality of life was less real than those in books,  when my sadness and happiness and mood changes did not depend on what happened in the life I was living but in the lives of characters that I was closely following,  when even though the only place I had been to, other than Bangalore, that too occasionally

The Spinning Melody and the Gateway

Reading "The Proof of Heaven" by Dr. Eben Alexander is almost like experiencing the NDE that he went through, to really be at the hospital with him where his loved ones were holding his hand 24/7 while he was in a coma, to be with him while he went through the underground, the gateway and the core back and forth experiencing the bright light and the melodious songs and the angelic being, to be able to hear with the whole being without anyone talking, to be able to see without physical eyes, to not have a concept of time, to feel a divine presence and be overjoyed to the fullest.  I wasn't feeling well over this long weekend. Couldn't go out because I didn't want to spread the flu around. Couldn't watch TV or browse the net since eyes were hurting. Couldn't sleep because, I'd start coughing the moment I was in bed. So though of reading a book that I'd wanted to read for a couple of months. A had finished reading and told me the gist, but I wanted