Ankush Agarwal's Blog: Always ख़ुश , page 2
April 14, 2020
Day 13: A non-apology for stealing
I wouldn't have done it otherwise
It was just too tempting
Who would've let such a precious thing go
But I do apologize for attempting
I am sorry if you felt bad
why did you keep it in open
Those three rings on its top
Oh! it looked so golden.
It was perfect, just like I wanted
casting its magic, far and broad
not too shiny, just so subtle
Even old jewelers couldn't forge
The first time, I had only touched it
It had filled me with utmost affection
A shiver had run down my spine
I had felt that special connection.
I didn't think you would notice
After all, you had plenty
But I'm now admitting
as I'm awfully guilty.
Dear neighbor,
I do love thee
But "Thou shall not steal"
is probably not for me
I do feel extremely sorry
for this request so absurd
but could you please, once more
remove your Wifi Password.
April 12, 2020
Day 12: Triolet
"What the hell is a Triolet ?",
A poet was once asked in a quiz.
He said, "It's the place you go after death."
"What! The Hell is a Triolet ??"
"Well, No easier answers, yet
So, now you know, this is
What the hell is a Triolet."
A poet was once asked in a quiz.
Day 11: A flower's story
Carnation flowers
Sitting in the park
On that winter's evening
sounds of kids were mixed with the birds';
A book of my favorite stories,
dozing off on the grass near me.
My eyes were fixed on that snoring page
when your fingers had first touched mine.
I remember, that day, you'd given me a blue carnation.
You visited me in the hostel room
The warden frowned but let you in
You didn't care for my friends' pretence
my room mate had also found an excuse
Tinkle in your smile was all I heard
were there also giggles outside?
I later found a mauve carnation on the bed.
It smelled the same as
the scent on the bottom of your neck
You held my hand through that lecture
The professor decided to not notice
Sitting in the back row, you wrote me a note
to meet you in our special corner
we went separately to those stairs
where we talked about so many things
You told me about the crimson flower.
Those classes bunked, lies to parents
secret routes for afternoon with you
Giving naughty names to hidden moles
no profanity of name or promise
life felt pure, as it should be.
Time blossomed with pink carnations
Leaving your city, it was my final day
You woke me up before the cuckoo's call
We didn't waste a second that day
but the dreaded night did fall.
Standing near your door, to see you off
Couldn't muster courage to say good bye
Just touched your face, and turned away
The world was hazy, to my eye
.
.
.
Between yellowed pages, I found a carnation today
Gone years have taken away its colors
But those must be signs of drew drops
'coz you once told me, "Flowers don't cry"
© Ankush Agarwal
12-Apr-2020
Sitting in the park
On that winter's evening
sounds of kids were mixed with the birds';
A book of my favorite stories,
dozing off on the grass near me.
My eyes were fixed on that snoring page
when your fingers had first touched mine.
I remember, that day, you'd given me a blue carnation.
You visited me in the hostel room
The warden frowned but let you in
You didn't care for my friends' pretence
my room mate had also found an excuse
Tinkle in your smile was all I heard
were there also giggles outside?
I later found a mauve carnation on the bed.
It smelled the same as
the scent on the bottom of your neck
You held my hand through that lecture
The professor decided to not notice
Sitting in the back row, you wrote me a note
to meet you in our special corner
we went separately to those stairs
where we talked about so many things
You told me about the crimson flower.
Those classes bunked, lies to parents
secret routes for afternoon with you
Giving naughty names to hidden moles
no profanity of name or promise
life felt pure, as it should be.
Time blossomed with pink carnations
Leaving your city, it was my final day
You woke me up before the cuckoo's call
We didn't waste a second that day
but the dreaded night did fall.
Standing near your door, to see you off
Couldn't muster courage to say good bye
Just touched your face, and turned away
The world was hazy, to my eye
.
.
.
Between yellowed pages, I found a carnation today
Gone years have taken away its colors
But those must be signs of drew drops
'coz you once told me, "Flowers don't cry"
© Ankush Agarwal
12-Apr-2020
Day 11: A flower's story
Carnation flowers
Sitting in the park
On that winter's evening
sounds of kids were mixed with the birds';
A book of my favorite stories,
dozing off on the grass near me.
My eyes were fixed on that snoring page
when your fingers had first touched mine.
I remember, that day, you'd given me a blue carnation.
You visited me in the hostel room
The warden frowned but let you in
You didn't care for my friends' pretence
my room mate had also found an excuse
Tinkle in your smile was all I heard
were there also giggles outside?
I later found a mauve carnation on the bed.
It smelled the same as
the scent on the bottom of your neck
You held my hand through that lecture
The professor decided to not notice
Sitting in the back row, you wrote me a note
to meet you in our special corner
we went separately to those stairs
where we talked about so many things
You told me about the crimson flower.
Those classes bunked, lies to parentssecret routes for afternoon with youGiving naughty names to hidden molesno profanity of name or promiselife felt pure, as it should be.
Time blossomed with pink carnations
Leaving your city, it was my final day
You woke me up before the cuckoo's call
We didn't waste a second that day
but the dreaded night did fall.
Standing near your door, to see you off
Couldn't muster courage to say good bye
Just touched your face, and turned away
The world was hazy, to my eye
.
.
.
Between yellowed pages, I found a carnation today
Gone years have taken away its colors
But those must be signs of drew drops
'coz you once told me, "Flowers don't cry"
© Ankush Agarwal12-Apr-2020
Sitting in the parkOn that winter's evening
sounds of kids were mixed with the birds';
A book of my favorite stories,
dozing off on the grass near me.
My eyes were fixed on that snoring page
when your fingers had first touched mine.
I remember, that day, you'd given me a blue carnation.
You visited me in the hostel room
The warden frowned but let you in
You didn't care for my friends' pretence
my room mate had also found an excuse
Tinkle in your smile was all I heard
were there also giggles outside?
I later found a mauve carnation on the bed.
It smelled the same as
the scent on the bottom of your neck
You held my hand through that lecture
The professor decided to not notice
Sitting in the back row, you wrote me a note
to meet you in our special corner
we went separately to those stairs
where we talked about so many things
You told me about the crimson flower.
Those classes bunked, lies to parentssecret routes for afternoon with youGiving naughty names to hidden molesno profanity of name or promiselife felt pure, as it should be.
Time blossomed with pink carnations
Leaving your city, it was my final day
You woke me up before the cuckoo's call
We didn't waste a second that day
but the dreaded night did fall.
Standing near your door, to see you off
Couldn't muster courage to say good bye
Just touched your face, and turned away
The world was hazy, to my eye
.
.
.
Between yellowed pages, I found a carnation today
Gone years have taken away its colors
But those must be signs of drew drops
'coz you once told me, "Flowers don't cry"
© Ankush Agarwal12-Apr-2020
Day 10: Hay(na)ku
Education !
despise darkness?
light a candle.
Gym !
pull weights?
Books are better.
Love !
fairy tales
Not for me.
God !
is Dead.
Or is She?
Heaven !
The moment
I met you
Assumptions !
you do,
like me too.
Luck !
Bad luck,
All I have.
We're !
Drifting apart...
slowly and slowly.
Life !
Without you...
Never the same.
April 11, 2020
Day 9: Concrete Poetry
A Gem
II am !Who am I ?Am I just body ?or senses assembled ,like. feelings within leather.Or I am someone else altogether.I might have flaws, or I'm just perfectionBut when I look at you, I see own reflection..¿uoᴉʇɔǝlɟǝɹ ʎɯ ǝǝs I op ʎɥʍ 'noʎ ʇɐ ʞool I uǝɥMuoᴉxǝldɯoɔ ɹou 'sʞool ʎɯ ǝʌɐɥ ʇ,uop no⅄ɹǝʌǝɹoɟ ǝʞᴉl slǝǝɟ ʇnq ʍouʞ ʇ,uop Iɹǝɥʇǝƃoʇ ǝɹǝɥ ǝɹɐ ǝʍ ʍoɥǝɯospǝlqɯǝsǝɹ ,sʎɐʍlɐ I
ǝǝɥʇ pǝʇɔǝlɟǝɹ ⅋
ɯɐ - I zoɔ,
ǝʞᴉlɯǝפ
∩
April 10, 2020
Stopping by woods...
Day 8 - Challenge was to start the poem with your favorite lines from another poem. Here's what it came out to be:
Day 8: Line from another poem
Stopping by woods...
The woods were lovely, dark and deep
like series of dreams in a deep sleep
Memories have grown on these woods
His only friends since childhood
Birds played peek-a-boo, when he'd cry
his mother working somewhere nearby
There're marks still, where he roped his swings
flying high in sky on feathers of strings
He often hid behind that reticent oak
for a secret kiss or a rebellious smoke
Those trees whispered only to him
Whenever he listened happily or grim
But after ages now, he's here alone
doesn't believe in whispers, he's a man grown
Doesn't swing on trees, 'coz he's a man grown
Metal clinks sound sweeter, than a beetle's drone
Doesn't remember his friends, he once so admired
Leaves still rustle for him, but its paper he desired
The woods were lovely, dark and deep
but he's got his own, promises to keep
He was sure, the trees will understand
they'll pretend not noticing, the axe in his hand.
© Ankush Agarwal
10-Apr-2020
Day 8: Line from another poem
Stopping by woods...
The woods were lovely, dark and deep
like series of dreams in a deep sleep
Memories have grown on these woods
His only friends since childhood
Birds played peek-a-boo, when he'd cry
his mother working somewhere nearby
There're marks still, where he roped his swings
flying high in sky on feathers of strings
He often hid behind that reticent oak
for a secret kiss or a rebellious smoke
Those trees whispered only to him
Whenever he listened happily or grim
But after ages now, he's here alone
doesn't believe in whispers, he's a man grown
Doesn't swing on trees, 'coz he's a man grown
Metal clinks sound sweeter, than a beetle's drone
Doesn't remember his friends, he once so admired
Leaves still rustle for him, but its paper he desired
The woods were lovely, dark and deep
but he's got his own, promises to keep
He was sure, the trees will understand
they'll pretend not noticing, the axe in his hand.
© Ankush Agarwal
10-Apr-2020
Day 8: Line from another poem
Stopping by woods...
The woods were lovely, dark and deep
like series of dreams in a deep sleep
Memories have grown on these woods
His only friends since childhood
Birds played peek-a-boo, when he'd cry
his mother working somewhere nearby
There're marks still, where he roped his swings
flying high in sky on feathers of strings
He often hid behind that reticent oak
for a secret kiss or a rebellious smoke
Those trees whispered only to him
Whenever he listened happily or grim
But after ages now, he's here alone
doesn't believe in whispers, he's a man grown
Doesn't swing on trees, 'coz he's a man grown
Metal clinks sound sweeter, than a beetle's drone
Doesn't remember his friends, he once so admired
Leaves still rustle for him, but its paper he desired
The woods were lovely, dark and deep
but he's got his own, promises to keep
He was sure, the trees will understand
they'll pretend not noticing, the axe in his hand.
© Ankush Agarwal10-Apr-2020
The woods were lovely, dark and deep
like series of dreams in a deep sleep
Memories have grown on these woods
His only friends since childhood
Birds played peek-a-boo, when he'd cry
his mother working somewhere nearby
There're marks still, where he roped his swings
flying high in sky on feathers of strings
He often hid behind that reticent oak
for a secret kiss or a rebellious smoke
Those trees whispered only to him
Whenever he listened happily or grim
But after ages now, he's here alone
doesn't believe in whispers, he's a man grown
Doesn't swing on trees, 'coz he's a man grown
Metal clinks sound sweeter, than a beetle's drone
Doesn't remember his friends, he once so admired
Leaves still rustle for him, but its paper he desired
The woods were lovely, dark and deep
but he's got his own, promises to keep
He was sure, the trees will understand
they'll pretend not noticing, the axe in his hand.
© Ankush Agarwal10-Apr-2020
April 5, 2020
A Humming Bird and a Lily
Day5: Twenty little poetry projects
Okay, so Day 5 challenge looks to be most difficult and most fun. While you can read the details on the NaPoWriMo blogs, here is quick summary of what I need to do:
Begin the poem with a metaphor.
Say something specific but utterly preposterous.
Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.
Use one example of synesthesia (mixing the senses).
Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place.
Contradict something you said earlier in the poem.
Change direction or digress from the last thing you said.
Use a word (slang?) you’ve never seen in a poem.
Use an example of false cause-effect logic.
Use a piece of talk you’ve actually heard (preferably in dialect and/or which you don’t understand).
Create a metaphor using the following construction: “The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun) . . .”
Use an image in such a way as to reverse its usual associative qualities.
Make the persona or character in the poem do something he or she could not do in “real life.”
Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person.
Write in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction.
Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.
Make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but that finally makes no sense.
Use a phrase from a language other than English.
Make a non-human object say or do something human (personification).
Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that “echoes” an image from earlier in the poem.
So, let me see, if I can meet the challenge:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note: For ease of reading and avoid clutter of quotation marks:
Blue text is spoken by the humming bird
Green text is spoken by Lily, the lily flower
and Black is by Yours Truly.
A Humming Bird and a Lily
1. Silence is golden, but talk is cheap
2. The humming bird was telling this to lily
3.a. Your fragrance is in a beauty sleep
3.b. See, your skin is now glowing really
3.c. Shivering with pleasure, for her lover's first touch
3.d. Sweetness of that maiden kiss
3.e. Your leaves will jingle just so much
4. Music will be, a touch of bliss
5. Am I, asked Lily, "in the Garden of Eden?
6. I am not your newly bride
7. & 8. you gotta gimme, a good reason
I would like this clarified:
9. My petals blush, whenever you dance
10. How you doin' ?, tell me your moves
11. The melodic strings of romance
12. strumming the ripened tunes of youth
Knowing now, that the moment was right
13. Humming bird just got down on a knee
14. Anks and all were so happy at this sight
The heavens proclaimed this decree:
15. "The Earth shall shower blessings,
16. 'n' there shall be an awesome blossom
17. Bridesmaids to wear fancy dressings
18. crooning in the breeze: "Ye raatein, ye mausam..."
19. The bird kissed lily on her petal
20. and rhythm of jingles were heard around
I saw the flower shiver so gentle
when she saw, the sun go down.
© Ankush Agarwal
05-Apr-2020
Okay, so Day 5 challenge looks to be most difficult and most fun. While you can read the details on the NaPoWriMo blogs, here is quick summary of what I need to do:
Begin the poem with a metaphor.
Say something specific but utterly preposterous.
Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.
Use one example of synesthesia (mixing the senses).
Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place.
Contradict something you said earlier in the poem.
Change direction or digress from the last thing you said.
Use a word (slang?) you’ve never seen in a poem.
Use an example of false cause-effect logic.
Use a piece of talk you’ve actually heard (preferably in dialect and/or which you don’t understand).
Create a metaphor using the following construction: “The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun) . . .”
Use an image in such a way as to reverse its usual associative qualities.
Make the persona or character in the poem do something he or she could not do in “real life.”
Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person.
Write in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction.
Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.
Make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but that finally makes no sense.
Use a phrase from a language other than English.
Make a non-human object say or do something human (personification).
Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that “echoes” an image from earlier in the poem.
So, let me see, if I can meet the challenge:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note: For ease of reading and avoid clutter of quotation marks:
Blue text is spoken by the humming bird
Green text is spoken by Lily, the lily flower
and Black is by Yours Truly.
A Humming Bird and a Lily
1. Silence is golden, but talk is cheap
2. The humming bird was telling this to lily
3.a. Your fragrance is in a beauty sleep
3.b. See, your skin is now glowing really
3.c. Shivering with pleasure, for her lover's first touch
3.d. Sweetness of that maiden kiss
3.e. Your leaves will jingle just so much
4. Music will be, a touch of bliss
5. Am I, asked Lily, "in the Garden of Eden?
6. I am not your newly bride
7. & 8. you gotta gimme, a good reason
I would like this clarified:
9. My petals blush, whenever you dance
10. How you doin' ?, tell me your moves
11. The melodic strings of romance
12. strumming the ripened tunes of youth
Knowing now, that the moment was right
13. Humming bird just got down on a knee
14. Anks and all were so happy at this sight
The heavens proclaimed this decree:
15. "The Earth shall shower blessings,
16. 'n' there shall be an awesome blossom
17. Bridesmaids to wear fancy dressings
18. crooning in the breeze: "Ye raatein, ye mausam..."
19. The bird kissed lily on her petal
20. and rhythm of jingles were heard around
I saw the flower shiver so gentle
when she saw, the sun go down.
© Ankush Agarwal
05-Apr-2020
April 4, 2020
Dreams
How do I write about the dream?
I'm sure, I had many.
'coz that's the world I see,
when I close the eyes,
my unknown fantasy.
Do I see another reality,
or a realm mundane?
it's a world with anything possible,
and void of any pain.
I've been to places
with unparalleled scenery
Those glorious white peaks
dancing with greenery
I've laughed many laughs
killing time with utmost glee
so close to my loved ones
whom I don't meet in reality
I've won many a battles
and achieved the impossible
Done those things with ease
which in life are impractical
The world there, is a happy place
such dreams have been many
then why is it so, that
I don't remember any?
Then there were dreams
Too embarrassing to share
these are the ones recurring
but I'd keep them a private affair
All the nightmares since childhood
I somehow distinctly remember
and they still manage to scare me
and I can't help, but surrender
The happy ones make my body glow
even the weird ones are fair
I just wish the nightmares
never do re-occur.
© Ankush Agarwal
05 Apr 2020
I'm sure, I had many.
'coz that's the world I see,
when I close the eyes,
my unknown fantasy.
Do I see another reality,
or a realm mundane?
it's a world with anything possible,
and void of any pain.
I've been to places
with unparalleled scenery
Those glorious white peaks
dancing with greenery
I've laughed many laughs
killing time with utmost glee
so close to my loved ones
whom I don't meet in reality
I've won many a battles
and achieved the impossible
Done those things with ease
which in life are impractical
The world there, is a happy place
such dreams have been many
then why is it so, that
I don't remember any?
Then there were dreams
Too embarrassing to share
these are the ones recurring
but I'd keep them a private affair
All the nightmares since childhood
I somehow distinctly remember
and they still manage to scare me
and I can't help, but surrender
The happy ones make my body glow
even the weird ones are fair
I just wish the nightmares
never do re-occur.
© Ankush Agarwal
05 Apr 2020
