Quotes about monsoon, page 13
Tryst With Winds
i stood still in the southwest balcony
savouring the washed landscape
after a brisk monsoon shower
for sometime when the heat
emnating from my body
made me restive
i thought it's the day's heat
that the rain threw up hitting
hard on my sensitive nerves
o, no!
the unsettling heat turned
me into a child playing
with fire in sheer boredom
after returning from school...
from nowhere winds
began to blow and
i was forced abandon the play
lest winds and fire conspire
whispering winds
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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An Observation
this maybe something
paranoid
i just feel that the rest of those
who are there
inside the small circle
closely knitted among themselves
like some design
of a crocheted set of flowers
simply want us
or me
to be like themselves
on a code
of exclusivity or uniformity
i don't like it,
my voice speaks
my fingers hide inside
the pocket of my pants
my conscience sits like
a king
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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BAKED OYSTERS ROCKEFELLER by Marjorie Evasco
We take shelter from the monsoon rains
In the warm inflections of dinner
Spread out to our liking, a la carte.
The sky’s the old cliché: no limits here,
Chef’s a master at re-incarnating Lapu-lapu,
Or carving a plateful of Manansala’s heart.
Will I, I wonder, be so bold as to say
With a straight face to the waiter: we are
Carnal you see, hungry for the Other.
And we’d like everything as raw as we
Can get it in this civil place, with its piano,
Violin, china, silver, spotless linen.
You look at me, intent, your voice encodes
Bite-sized pleasures — (Kani Sushi, yes?)
Dipped desires — (Oysters Rockefeller, baked?) .
My mind scuttles the crab’s tangent
To our table, shelled; my tongue
sauces at the thought of succulents.
Even when the waiter interjects
Those Rockefellers are out of season,
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It Could Have Been Simpler
it could have been simpler
like a leaf falling to the air and then
taken somewhere
where our eyes are too tired to see,
it could have taken lesser words to describe
the feelings
without so much expense from our hearts
not taking much of our time
towards contemplation
but it is not that way, not that easy really
to meet someone like you and spend the whole night with
on a burst of emotions
on a flame of so much heat from the fire
in our bellies
from the cinders found in our pelvic bones
when we wish to forget such a pleasant feeling
we cannot just spit it out like a form of waste
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Remembering You
I remember
one fine day,
You had walked
Into the dark corridors of my life
Like the sunshine
After a long, cold, dark night.
Bringing with you
All the warmth
All the glow
Long awaited
Never felt.
I remember
Holding your
Little finger
And chasing
The wild, wild wind
Like two innocent children
In pursuit of the unknown dream.
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poem by Anjali Kakati
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The Legacy Of The Soil
In my forefather's blood
Rests my gentile peasant legacy, of a dexterous islander
Born to the fertile soils of Serendip
As the seeds of my legacy were cultivated
On soggy terrain for an opportune metamorphosis
Golden terraces laden with logged grains of prosperity
A tribal farmer persona transcending mortality
To the throne of a medieval mythical kingdom
To the august presence of a sorcerer of the soil
A sower granted the wish of king Midas, miraculous palms
Sowing the twines of the intricate tapestry of my heritage
Where no swords were wielded, no blood was shed
Where no battlefields were fronted, no prisoners were seized
Where roots were laid and sprouts were sprung
A legacy like no other, to own the spirit of the soil
To harness the blessings of the sun gods
To garner the vitality of the seasonal monsoon
To cultivate hope in the promise of a bowl of rice
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Monsoon Nights
I miss it...
The smell of the initial raindrops as they hit
The dry parched earth
Waiting, eagerly
for the rain to quench her thirst.
I remember
The happiness I felt hearing
The staccato notes the fat raindrops made on my tin rooftop
A torrent to be swept up in.
I miss it...
The feel of my skin under your hands
Somehow it felt softer, smoother, silkier
Next to you.
I remember
How I felt like my tongue tasted sweeter
In your mouth...
Hibiscus nectar.
Those monsoon full moon nights
When I would sneak away to meet you.
We'd walk hand in hand
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poem by Rabia Minhas
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Sorrow is better than insomnia.
Neither a sister, nor a daughter,
Nor any one by blood you are.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Never a tryst, nor a rendezvous,
Nor an innuendo, you granted.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Glamour, splendor, or pretext,
You never played to gravitate.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Formidable and forbidden you were.
Sojourn was so short.
Parting was abrupt and aborting.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Every beginning has an end.
An episode should, however, end.
But abortion and usurpation?
May be, by a boon I’ll see you soon.
That can retrieve our past monsoon.
But the crop is already gone.
So my sorrow never sleeps.
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poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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South-Westerly-2
What ecstasy you've got into
Tumbling home, me and all you do
Frisky sometimes in perfect rhyme
Frowning sometimes in hassling mime
Breeziest breeze but not a gale
Brisk hurling litters all in bale
See, the surging sea..you're roaring
Upping, upping tides overlapping
See, the flying birds..you're pushing
Downing down in your tilting
See, the tottering trees..you're beating
Fluttering leaves in your strewing
See, the slamming doors..you're hitting
Drying clothes far in your tumbling
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poem by Indira Renganathan
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Love the seasons
Love the seasons
For many reasons
As an individual and person
As daughters, parents and sons
All witness beautiful change
Sometimes it has come with age
Sometimes with mood
And sometimes with fresh food
You are delighted
Many instances are sighted
You fly in the air
To be looked upon as very fair
It is good lesson
To be understood with reasons
Nature too wants
Even future stock is built by ants
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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