A tender heart treads softly There at Taj Mahal … And the marble gleams bright On her … As she wears a young love – Endlessly searching through timeless steps …
Suddenly, I can’t quite understand why I wanted those shoes so much …
I still love the shoes I wore that day, and I remember the feeling of walking around in it. It was our first trip abroad—just the three sisters, our brother, and our parents. We sisters were fond of this type of Lehenga, which was very popular at the time. So, I chose one and matched it with the perfect shoe. We bought these in Kolkata (Calcutta) and traveled from there to Delhi, then Agra, Jaipur, and other places.
On that day, we chose to wear this attire specifically for our visit to the Taj Mahal. It was such a beautiful day—I still remember it vividly. We got ready to see the Taj Mahal in person, wearing our special outfits. My jewelry consisted only of earrings and a watch. In our youth, we didn’t need any makeup, and we three sisters looked stunning in our attire. I still remember how much my father loved our outfits and took great care of us. He made sure we all took pictures in front of the Taj just like this.
Needless to say, I felt incredibly elegant in my own skin—beautiful, serene, warm, and quiet.
I was a very quiet girl back then—so quiet that my close ones used to call me ‘Dead Beauty.’
Love this poem and read it many times. Do you love such poems?
I love many of them …
First and foremost, allow me to share Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 43, ‘How Do I Love Thee?’
It begins with the iconic lines:
‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…’
These two lines alone contain volumes of meaning, and I find myself revisiting them often …
There’s another poem, I love, and that is ‘Hope’ by Emily Dickinson
‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all’ …
I may not be good at recitation, but I have a deep passion for reading and appreciating the intricate artistry of language. The way words are arranged to evoke emotions, convey wisdom, and capture the essence of life, love, and nature resonates deeply with me. It’s in these moments, amidst the twists and turns of expression, that I find myself enamored with the beauty of language and the emotions it encapsulates …
See, when you read ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’ by Robert Frost, won’t you just love this famous poem?
‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep’ …
Here’s another eloquent excerpt from the renowned poem ‘The Road Not Taken’ by Robert Frost:
‘Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.’
This poem resonates deeply with me and holds a special place in my heart, as I often find myself reflecting on its message of making pivotal choices that shape one’s journey.
I have a profound admiration for another poem, namely ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.’ Its expression conjures the sense of companionship, as if the lover is spiritually present, ensuring one is not alone:
‘Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky’ …
Isn’t it beautiful?
I’m certain many of you appreciate these poems. There are numerous others, but I’d like to share just a few of my absolute favorites with you all, such as ‘Leisure’ by William Henry Davies:
‘What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare … No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance.’
To selectively share excerpts from the poem is my means of conveying:
Please delve into the poems I’m presenting here— read them when solitude surrounds you, read them in the company of your beloved, read them among friends, read them with strangers, read them in tranquility, read them amidst chaos … but above all, I hope you read them in their entirety …
Sharing one of my recent painting video from ‘Chaos’ series. Hope you may like it. Also I tried to read the poem ‘What It Is’. Hope you would like listening to it as well ….
And also please do share here about your favourite poems …..
My canvas of delight is Dancing bright … My passion is igniting A colorful sight … My soul is painting A tranquil choir … My emotion is healing With peace and fire …
What if it all works out? What if you get that call? What if today goes unexpectedly well? What if you have what it takes? What if you meet someone unexpectedly? What if today you make the day best with what you have? What if someone is praying for you? What if you receive that one mail? What if someone has special feelings for you? What if someone tells you that? What if you go on that trip with someone for a day or two? What if the trip takes you to another state of mind? What if you return with a complete different state of heart? What if you do not know what’s next? What if the best is yet to come? What if great things are on the way? What if you don’t search for any answer? What if the answer is within you?
I love all the ‘What ifs’ … What ifs’ give me hope …
And came to school the next day and she came to my desk room to see me. She was standing at the doorstep and she called me softly,
‘Miss’ …..
I looked at her, and got up from my desk and went closer to the doorstep and touching her soft cheek, I said,
‘Hello Mumma! How’re you sweety? You were absent yesterday. I heard that you had toothache. How’s your toothache now?
I was saying all these to her at a go …
And she said to me ‘Did you miss me?’ with such deep affectionate look at me and with a softer voice that it almost melted my heart with pure bliss …
It was so heartwarming, I immediately gave her a hug and said, ‘Of course, I missed you dear. I missed you so much.’
It seemed she felt good to hear those words for her and then she hugged me for a few seconds and smiled ….
And then she noticed my buddy taping fingers
‘What happened?’ – serious concerns with full of innocent sympathy
‘It just was an accident my dear.’ I answered.
‘Is this hurting you?’ She couldn’t get it what’s that!
‘Well, yes! A little’ ….
‘How did it happen?’ – asked like an adult as if she would understand the whole situation …
She kissed my buddy taping and asked me, ‘Should I draw something on your bandage? So it’ll be cured faster.’
‘Oh dear! Really? You can draw of course.’
Then she brought out her special colour box and said to me, ‘I want to use the colors that you prefer today. Cause it’s your bandage on your hand.”
Then I chose some colors, pink, purple, green yellow …
She drew this one. She drew a heart, a flower …. For me ….
She asked me, ‘Did you like it?
I know you all know what my answer was to her …
Now you tell me, ‘Do you like this Little Joy’?’
Do you value such little joy in your life?
How sometimes we get someone’s affection and we don’t even notice ….
How sometimes you know that you’re someone special in someone’s heart, and yet you do not care much or ignore or you take that for granted …
How often we do not acknowledge these little joys of life …
Often I do find these ‘Little Joy’ moments in my life and I value them deeply. I believe life is made up of these little moments, precious memories, vulnerability and love that all add up to create a big canvas of your life. We should know that the bigger picture cannot be made without all the small moments that bring it all together. So
‘I hope you find, as I did, that happiness comes from noticing and enjoying the little things in life’
Life is somewhat grey Everywhere Just monotony Lost and lonely …
Don’t you know?
Only when you stay Life is colorful …. A hopeful glow Echoes of brighter joy Birds sing cheerful songs Rays of sunshines warm my cheeks My yellow dyed dreams return …
I was waiting For you And you didn’t show up while my odes started to burn … A heartache …
After a while, There a humble person came along .. Seemed so at the moment … I asked him to take a picture of me and There I sat at the corner of a bench In the garden … Took some time to Get my mood toned Up my unsettled face … There the man waited patiently … A gentleman ….
Once it’s all set yet unsteady As I was, I heard the man said, ‘Ready?’ Twinkled at him and said, ‘Yes’ Smiling … With the chilly breeze that was Passing through I preferred my warm Jacket kept aside And my heavy heart smile For the warmth I needed …. A harmony ….
Later on I welcomed a friendly Conversation with the stranger He seemed to like all of it … My chitter-chattering And laughter flowed freely, naturally … Then we started walking In the garden, blooming all around An attachment ….
The balance was the two umbrellas For each of us, His violet, mine yellow one We were walking and talking Keeping the in-between distance mindfully yet our heart-felt notions were quietly replaying … The undefined mysteries of the world, meanwhile … Letting love in our heart, unknowingly … After a while, we faded into our different paths Just two strangers with memories A detachment ….
Each flower reflects God’s perfect glory, Quietly drifting along the wondrous things around; Though unfinished it seems, There is magic In its vibrant colours!
.
How vibrant are you in reflecting your magic around?
I have visited places to see you, feel you, articulate you in my own way. The more I see you, the more I fall in love with you. Some make it complicated and some make you so simple. You are instilled with so many stories of different people. And different people see you with their different perspectives, with their own stories. It fascinates me. It doesn’t matter to you if you are old or young. You know only to encompass yourself to infinity. You do not hide. You are open for all. Some feel you like home. Some treat you like strangers.
Dear Art, You are not stranger to me. You are like home to me. I do not like to describe you much. You come to me as a beautiful surprise each day. You bring rainbow colours to explore my universe. I rest in you silently nurturing a world full of wonders. I feel pure.
Dear Art, Do you know you make me shimmery, trembling, softly, from within?
Roksana Tales 