Weekly Photo Challenge: The Golden Hour


The golden hour is the first and last hour of sunlight of the day. Every week, The Daily Post hosts a Photography Challenge with a theme which the bloggers need to interpret, take photographs and post them on WordPress. This is the first time I’m participating in Daily Post’s weekly photography challenge. Hope some of you photography enthusiasts would join too. The more, the merrier!
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I don’t have a DSLR to capture stunning images. Actually, I don’t need one. A 12.0 MP point and shoot camera with some Adobe Photoshop skills can do equally amazing stuff, although some might say such photographs are unoriginal. But poor us, we can’t afford DSLRs!

06
Empty Tables In The Morning
05
Melt Me With The Snow

 

Journey Into The Dusk
Journey Into The Dusk
03
Sunlight: “A sign board ain’t gonna stop me!”
Filtering through flaws!

Let me park my car in the sky.

 

 

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Fly My Soul Like A Kite


of all symphonies reverberating in the yonder,
one magically hooked my soul and made me fly.

and as I soared,
a myriad of worlds unknown, flashed before my eyes,
each one looking so much like home,
I felt like seeking asylum in every such world,
regardless of what it had to offer,
sorrow or serendipity.

of all symphonies reverberating in the yonder,
one magically hooked my soul and made me fly.
my consciousness. my conscience.

~ ~ ~

lliterary works small

April Haiku Month, Day 2: Butterfly


Image rights reserved to Peiling Lee

~ ~ ~

a pink lily grove . . .

butterflies dance in nectar

bees and birds join

~ ~ ~

a girl wanders lost . . .

butterflies whisper in ear

‘ssssh! come, dance with us’

~ ~ ~

a land of unknown . . .

they dance together past thorns

nature aides the lost

~ ~ ~

This post is submitted at Haiku Heights for Day 2 prompt – Butterfly. This post is also a part of my NaPoWriMo 2013 journey, my first. I am also trying to take up the A-to-Z Blogging challenge which requires bloggers to write a post everyday during all April. I will try to write separate posts for NaPoWriMo and A-to-Z Blogging Challenge IF possible. I sure want to.

I am going to share your everyday Haiku on my Facebook Page. Keep tabs on it too.

Thank you all for reading my haiku. I’ll be reading yours too, and I enjoy each one of your haiku. Your comments always help me improve and motivate myself to keep going.

Thank you and keep writing! 

Tweet me at @WeOweWomen.

King, Dove, Friend And Peace – Haiku #33


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.

~ ~ ~

Scene I

~ ~ ~

A Dove flying in some mysterious but beautiful place ( First Person – Dove )

~ ~ ~

O’ mother, thank you,

soothing plains, blissful green woods,

wonderful is world.

~ ~ ~

pristine, agile winds,

lift mine spirits to heavens,

wings hardly matter (for spirit).

~ ~ ~

angelic white, mine

plumage, how many hearts changed,

chose peace over battle?

~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~

Scene II

~ ~ ~

A cruel king came for hunting Stag ( First Person – King )

~ ~ ~

( Addresses the Stag )

mine aim wavers not,

arrow tip bellows thy end,

royal dish, thine flesh!

~ ~ ~

( Suddenly he sees the dove above )

~ ~ ~

elegant beauty,

she’s mine, on royal platter,

arrow aims high now,

~ ~ ~

( Addresses the Dove now )

~ ~ ~

O’ dove, thee is mine,

die proud as regal king’s food,

death be upon thee!

~ ~ ~

( He leaves the Stag and loosens the arrow at the dove and she is hit )

~ ~ ~

Ha Ha! King I am,

no being eludes arrows,

Dove slayer king, me.

~ ~ ~

Scene III – Act I

~ ~ ~

A man sees the dove being hit by the arrow and runs to the fallen bird ( First Person – Man )

~ ~ ~

O’ mine friend, tell who

hath brought this upon thee –

my sword rages in anger.

~ ~ ~

O’ mine friend, beauty,

leave this world not, breathe please, love,

god needn’t have you.

~ ~ ~

don’t shut eyes;

O’ blind god, why her;

love, love, friend!

~ ~ ~

The Dove speaks to the man  and at the same time,the cruel king reaches a point where he can hear her speak, he stops and listens ( First Person – Dove )

~ ~ ~

O’ kind friend of mine,

thy love for nature pleases

it is time i rest.

~ ~ ~

promise, little one,

that thy sword tastes no blood, to

avenge mine that spilled,

~ ~ ~

shed blood never, Friend,

keep peace, alive or dead; world

needs peace, give it and……………………………

~ ~ ~

( Dove breathes no more )

( King  comes out of the bushes, the friend of Dove speaks )

~ ~ ~

My King,  great hunter,

none can match your skills, no one

in your whole kingdom!

~ ~ ~

My King, what justice,

do you serve, your cruelty

is the crown you wear!

~ ~ ~

Hadst she not asked peace,

(i) shan’t think twice, i’l behead thee,

my foot on thy crown!

~ ~ ~

( The king speaks )

~ ~ ~

O’ grieving friend of  Dove,

i lay down my crown and sword,

i repent mine wrongs

~ ~ ~

O’ trustful friend of Dove,

ascend mine throne, give peace then

kingdom needs her, peace.

~ ~ ~

O’ true friend of Dove,

forgive ,  i will show myself

to no eyes again.

~ ~ ~

( The king goes into the wilderness in repentance and to keep the kingdom running, Dove’s friend ascends the throne.

He speaks : )

~ ~ ~

every battle now,

that we shall be part, be for

peace, not blood or pride .

~ ~ ~

every battalion,

shall bear white flag, symbol peace,

remembering dove.

~ ~ ~


Tweet me at @sankarajayanth

I don’t know why, when i saw the prompt the first thing to come to mind was “alive or dead, peace.”.
maybe due the ever eluding peace, for which runs a daily quest for me and that my tired mind and soul longs for a piece of it.
And peace = dove, as many things i relate to nature. And i thought of presenting it this way.

And later when i was half way through, i remembered a childhood story : hunter kills a pigeon but the pigeon’s wife gives shelter to hunter,
to satisfy and do justice to the dharma of comforting the guests, she jumps into flames to become the food for the guest.
My story, i think, was almost the same. So, i thank that childhood story and whoever wrote it.


Suggestions and corrections are most welcome, I’m still learning Haiku.

This post is an entry in Haiku Challenge for April 2012 at Haiku Heights. The prompt being ‘alive’.


Arms Of Forgiveness – Haiku #20


you are in for a long set of haiku ( abberated ones ), have patience if you can manage. 🙂

.

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O’ Love, in thy arms,

of forgiveness, is written

mine exile,  hidden

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, in thy arms,

of forgiveness, a thriving man,

who hurt thee in past

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, in thy arms,

of forgiveness, a broken man,

who hurt thee, never

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, thine virtue 

hath me breathing hard, why blind,

what sin i doth thus?

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, thine virtue,

forgiveness, hadst me exiled,

someone else got closer.

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, speak ‘least now,

i question not in arrogance,

what sin i doth thus?

~ ~ ~

if to -try to ebb

thine pains served by life- is to

sin, then i did sin.

~ ~ ~

if to -hide my name,

in humility- is to

sin, then i did sin.

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, what hadst i

done, that hath me pushed into

this vile emptiness.

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, in angst, i,

ask thee to see, difference,

in love and true love.

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, in thy arms,

of forgiveness, is written

mine exile,  hidden.

~ ~ ~

archaic (old English) words :

hath = has

hast = have

hadst = had

thy / thine = your

thou / thee = you

doth = do / does

~ ~ ~

i started writing it as a haiku,

but the inner feelings caught me in a grip and dictated me to write this, even if there were abberations from the rules of haiku

~ ~ ~

one thing i want to tell not in haiku :

forgiveness is a great virtue,

a very great one indeed,

but in excess of it,

shall, many a time,

sinners thrive,

while all along, good ones get the woeful plate of plight.

how strange.

how harsh.

how forgiving ( yes, sarcastic in deed ).

~ ~ ~

This post is an entry in Haiku Challenge for April 2012 at Haiku Heights. The prompt being “forgive”.

Hurt Her Not – Haiku #18


forgive : i feel it is a tough word in general and a tough word for a haiku too.

so here’s my try :

” thou hast my lady,

hurt her not, forgive she may,

as lost love, i won’t “

~ ~ ~

i donno if people can get what i tried to tell, i would just say that this haiku’s fictional context is

” my love is with an other man, her only man (she never was mine, in fact), but i still love her, for eternity.

and i warn ( not in grudge, but in a concerned urge, for my lady) him, as she chose him, above me,

i warn him not to disappoint her or hurt her because i wouldn’t if i was him.

O’ love,

lost love.”

~ ~ ~

This post is an entry in Haiku Challenge for April 2012 at Haiku Heights. The prompt being “forgive”.

She Sells Shells – Haiku #24


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.

dreams big and hopes high,

she sells sea shells on seashore,

buy one, help her smile

~ ~ ~

a haiku inspired by the famous tongue twister “she sells sea shells on the sea shore”

can’t get it right once, not once 😀 :O

~ ~ ~

Suggestions and corrections are most welcome, I’m still learning Haiku. :)

This post is an entry in Haiku Challenge for April 2012 at Haiku Heights. The prompt being ‘seashore’.

Silence Is Not Trivial


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.

everyday i put others before me,
tiring, enduring, all in silence and always trying not to show the weariness on my face,

sometimes it is too much,
breaking point is reached, and i break,

you see me break and you loath me for not standing strong for you,
that hurts,

though in humility i live, i hoped you would understand my silence one notch more,
so that you give me enough time to get back to the routine- everyday i put others before me, tiring, enduring, all in silence and always trying not to show the weariness on my face

– before judging me as too weak to stand for you,

silence doesn’t mean i don’t love. it means i love so much that i prefer to hurt myself being silent than hurt others by talking.
silence doesn’t mean i am not happy. it is my way of saying “i am happy for you. and i indeed am smiling. more on the inside.”
silence doesn’t mean i am not angry. it means i fight my anger in my own self.
silence doesn’t mean i am not in pain. i can wail and grieve over my wounds out loud, but i din’t choose it.
silence. it tells what many words can never ever explain.

i hoped you’d try to understand my silence one more notch.

~ ~ ~

yes, silence sometimes hurts.

but counting the number of times it takes the hurt unto itself, i think you could ease the rope around my neck.

and it hurts to know that my silence hurts you,

but i always am silent for a wiser reason. because i put others before myself.

just when i see myself grow wise, noticeably,

situations close in on, pushing me into ‘regret’.

wish i stayed less wise.

i do not know if i would say that tomorrow, but right now, i really wish i was less wise and more fool.

~ ~ ~

Silence is my language and will always be.

I don’t have the strength to talk and say things. So, i, for you, wish some freak accident befalls me and changes me into that,
Into what ever you wanted me to be.

~ ~ ~

A part of one’s wisdom lies in understanding the silence.
There are always silent “hellos” and silent “goodbyes”.

A new born baby wont understand our blah blah, smile at him and he knows we are saying “hello”.
A friend blinks, empty eyes, sober face and then turns away. It tells you he/she has to leave though she doesn’t want to.

If one cannot decipher these, we would always end up misjudging the other one.

And there is so much of true and pure love in these little, silent moments,
where tears, smiles, empty eyes, all in silence, speak of love. true and pure.

~ ~ ~

I am a teenager.
People have a basic image of an average teenager.
I am not even close to it.
The time i spend in silence itself shows why.

~ ~ ~

why would someone so young rut so much over something that is so ‘trivial’ for the world.
don’t make me feel worse by saying, “because he is insane”.

~ ~ ~

One thing i can tell, everywhere in this post where ever i used an ‘i’, there could easily be a ‘you’ there.
because everyone experiences time where they cannot speak because of the multitude of high emotions running inside,
but it happens more often with me.
and i can hardly help myself.

~ ~ ~

To Get Close To Nature, You Just Need To…


To Get Close To Nature, You Just Need To…

To get close to nature,

You just need to breathe,

You just need to feel the air,

You just need to smell the earth,

You just need to embrace the warmth,

You just need to welcome the rain droplets,

And then, you just need to hold all of them together,

Like you would with your Love, Friend, Sister, Brother, Father and Mother,

Make the rain droplets your tears of grief and sympathy,

The warmth, your shield that can break any arrow,

The earth, your motivation to live and love,

The air, your teacher of truthfulness,

You just need to breathe yet,

Now where are you?

Close to nature.

To Be A Star Up There


with millions of stars, the sky looks pompous,
i wonder where they get the radiant motive to shine,
while my own star, my heart, is all dried up,
soaked by the rough pores in rust, formed by emptiness,
even the crack of dawn and the creek of dusk could be heard,
and to share them there is none,
i think, i ponder, i wonder and i would,
give up anything to be one of those in the sky,
that shine away innocence,
unaffected by the whiplashes of fate.

Oh! I would trade everything to be one of them,
never pale, ever smiling, just as everyone wants.

—————-

Tweet me at @sankarajayanth.

—————-

Time Will Die Before My Love Does…


I wrote this a year ago, felt like re-posting it. I wanted to feel ‘soothed’, that was what I felt after writing this back then.

as if lava cooled down halfway through its hell hot chamber,
and as if lightning lost its bright superfluous yellow hue halfway through the roar,
and as if the clouds vanished suddenly because they knew not what they were made of,
and as if earth stopped spinning halfway through her graceful roundabout motion,
and as if the universe stopped keeping track of time that rightfully follows its duty for every single tick,
and as if existence always meant void, only mistaken hitherto,
my words, i gulp down.


what they are, only i know,
such feelings are meant to be expressed,
even if not now,


though repeatedly suppressed,
if allowed to flow,
you will be caught in a vortex of extreme care and psychological embrace and be so immersed,


but i cannot, O’ love,
time isn’t showing me when and how,
though i believe in my own conscience and love,
learn you shall somehow,someday, even if the days and nights change slow,
for all i know,
time will die before my love for you does,


and if this is called exaggeration,
then
my love for mother, my love for father, my love for sister and my love for  a friend should also be called exaggerations,
for the true and pure form they exist in.

A Monkey At 1000ft From Ground (photograph)


The monkey was overseeing a vast expanse of hills and valleys in Shimla. The tree, on which you see the money, is actually a very tall one, some 500-1000 feet from the valley that it’s root bearing land shallows into. Amazing how fearless monkeys are, compared to their more evolved relatives. 

~ ~ ~

Tweet me at @sankarajayanth.

~ ~ ~

Why Did I Name My Blog ‘Black and White Heart’ ?


.
.
named my blog black and white heart,
many wondered what it meant.


how can a blood-red heart be black and white,
how, ask me how.

when there is love for even subtle, generally-ignored things like a crumpled autumn leave,
when there is sympathy and empathy towards the weaker beings,
when there is a zest to know why one has to be strong while another has to be weak,
when there is the kindle flame deep inside, burning only to seek truth, when there are questions burning to be fired at the injustices of the world,
when there is this void of unknowable knowledge, as to why there has to be so much suffering in the world,
when there is this herculean rage inside, to bring down the traitors of humanity,
when there is a special respect for women,
when there is again a murderous rage inside, for how most men treat women,
where there is angst to show people how aberrant us human lives have turned,
when there is this restlessness and immensely overwhelming pain looking at how we humans sabotage our own well being,

what else do I see but the colors – white and black,
which form all world for me,
every speck of sand,
every breeze of air,
and ever drop of the sea.

swinging between extremes,
my heart is but black and white,
void and veracious.