pallette of thoughts

Sometimes being busy hurts while sometimes it helps to fill the gaps of time we don’t wish to go through. But sometimes these gaps become scars they burn, later they soothe, they take their own time. And it is times like these when the unexpected happens. You read poetry, it makes you smile or helps think deeper, feel better. It turns those unwanted gaps into escape passages you are looking out for to breath, to feel, to live. You may need someone, something to accompany you in that passage, a friend, a hobby, a book, a song. This time they were poems for me.

So here I am with a random collection, of some poems which I felt I wanted to share.

This one by E.E. Cummings is just pure beauty; I think I had first heard it in a movie but dint pay complete attention as I don’t really remember liking the movie but did google this one later and it must be read completely. It is so simple to understand and comprehend and will make you smile from the start right to the end…

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;
and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)
i want no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

We all have heard of Robert Frost and this one called “A Late Walk” by him is another great discovery thanks to the internet. It has that innocence of Daffodils by William Wordsworth as I had mentioned once in an earlier post… it’s not extra ordinary but ordinarily special and by the end of it my heart was out there searching for a garden for that single flower

When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you

If I were to go a little off beat here I would, to mention that a similar sense of simplicity and poise is what I felt when I read the book “Like the Flowing River” by Paulo Coelho, a collection of short sweet pleasant surprising and heartwarming stories. My favorite is called “The story of the pencil” it was the first story I had read in that book and I couldn’t keep it down till I had read all the others as well.

I think butterflies are an interesting topic on which one can write a poem. Their colors, wings, their life, there is hope, struggle, fun, cheer. Have you ever tried to catch a butterfly, once I did and when it tried to fly away it left some colors on my fingers and they glittered. They bounce from one flower to another with so much of elegance and zestfulness as if life is a lie until not lived to its fullest every single moment.
And so here I end this one, with a few lines by someone anonymous on butterflies, life and afterlife, all beautifully embroidered together in a lovely poem called “While waiting for thee” with a hope that you too come across those special lines that touch your cords just the way these poems touched mine.

Don’t weep at my grave,
For I am not there.
I’ve a date with a butterfly
To dance in the air.

I’ll be singing in the sunshine,
Wild and free,
Playing tag with the wind
While I’m waiting for thee.