Isn’t it something, how many words we’ve shared today? After all this time, I didn’t expect it, but I think, in my deepest heart, I was waiting for your letter, your voice between the lines …
Lately, my world has felt like a storm, emotionally, mentally, a whirlwind of moments and moods. But even within that, you drifted into my thoughts today. And with that thought came a soft realisation: I was still waiting to hear from you …
Perhaps that says something, not just about timing, or connection, but about how some souls hold a kind of gravity, silently, years after years. Even from a distance, they stay. They stir something gentle, something true. How they have a quiet way of returning, just when you need to hear from them!
I once read in ‘Married to Bhutan’ how being near a river can slow you down, how just standing beside water can make you feel calm and present. That thought stayed with me. And maybe that’s why your words today felt so familiar, like the sound of water flowing, unexpected yet comforting …
Someone once called me a poet, and I loved that. Being a poet feels like holding up a mirror to my thoughts, as if no other umbrella could shield me. I know I might bore others with this at times, but what can I do? I am who I am. If you love me, you must love my poetic voice, or not love me at all. If that sounds dramatic, so be it
For me, the act of creating is what truly matters. It’s the deepest part of who I am
Do you love me? Or not? Tell me
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The picture was taken in front of South Kensington Station, London on 22nd September. It was kind of a solo-explorer day. I went to visit Natural History Museum and the Kensington Gardens.
There once was a curious soul Wondering how your days roll What activities fill your time … It’s something she often wonders about … Completely immersed in the moment
A sip of tea, And a glance That we exchanged , Sitting at a quiet cafe, Where our stories blossomed … Two strangers, Just so world apart … Yet here we met Beneath the cozy ambiance, And our hearts beat – A strangely warm tune …
With every swirl of steam With every stir of sugar – The fragrant brew gradually becomes A well-woven fantasy … As we shared our tales …
There’s a bridge between us, As we sip and shared… No need to fuss though … Each word a melody Each sip a dance In this tea date We found romance ….
Time passes Paths diverge From distant lands or Just down the street For in this simple rendezvous, Our soul found A connection so profound …
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 …..
Part of my morning rituals are spent in my little varandah garden! It refreshes me …. Love the sound of the chirping birds, the warm light, smell of the wind and greens and flowers … Some days I read here with a glass of warm honey water and some days a cup of tea … with a little conversation … These days are Ramadan days, the most blessed days and I’m healing from my broken finger …. I hope it’ll be alright soon … and everything too
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 …
In poetry we say, Ink spills from the pen, Words dance upon the page’s breath and Each letters have taken my heartbeat And thus poetry becomes my infinite playground …
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’
Humepenthe/ made up (n.) someone who makes you forget er your pain and sorrow; someone with whom you forget all your worries ….
Humepenthe is a made up word (@cosmosbyrudra) made with combination of human + nepenthe which human form of a drug which was given to people to forget or lessen their pain and suffering in ancient time ….
Between the lines of a muted conversation, Unspoken tales form a quiet foundation … Heartbeats echo the stories concealed, In the silent spaces, emotions revealed …
Gaman/ japanese (n.) Gaman is a Japanese word of Zen Buddhist origin which means ‘enduring the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity’. The term is generally translated as ‘perseverance’, ‘patience’ and ‘tolerance’ …
The shadow cast On that starless skies, Where murmurs linger, Subdued goodbyes … A tune of melancholy’s song, In thy heart where echoes long …
Oh this melancholy, My silent guest, A tear-stained story, unspoken, and so blessed The weight of contemplation In shades of gray, In twilight hours, grips its sway …
A canvas painted with dull hues, A whirlwind of memories, tattered and bruised … Through hazy veils of nostalgic dreams, The world in silent sadness gleams …
A poet’s pen on pages bare, Twisted verses of a sincere prayer … Thy melancholy’s tender art, Nothing but a symphony of hurting heart …
Yet, in the depth of still despair, Belongs a beauty, rare and fair … A gentle solace for the mind In the shadow of the ancient find …
So let the tears of misery flow Like mists on a window’s glow … For in melancholy’s gentle grace There lies a balm for life’s embrace …
Roksana Tales 