Recently I wrote to 'Writers Workshop', Kolkota, asking whether they would be interested in bringing out another collection of my poems. Ms.Lal, granddaughter of late Prof.P Lal, warmly replied that they'd consider it.
My poems are scattered among many files; perhaps the only page where I can find most of them would be the blog. Down with fever and cough ( what better excuse to take leave and stay home!), I started browsing through my files to compile those poems which haven't appeared in the first collection. I considered which poem should be the 'title poem'.
Except for a rare deviation, my poems are morbidly personal; they are too intimate, ad nauseum. The few exceptions are about trees or dogs or nature in general. I hardly write anything political or social or something that concern humanity in a large scale. To me, poetry is a tool with which I learn more about myself; by expressing my analyses in words, I am clearer to myself; and in most cases, I am able to connect with the larger world through this process of self-learning.
Except for a rare deviation, my poems are morbidly personal; they are too intimate, ad nauseum. The few exceptions are about trees or dogs or nature in general. I hardly write anything political or social or something that concern humanity in a large scale. To me, poetry is a tool with which I learn more about myself; by expressing my analyses in words, I am clearer to myself; and in most cases, I am able to connect with the larger world through this process of self-learning.
I am no different from any other creative writer in contending that some of what I have written are, simply put, beautiful. Especially those on love and passion. Among the nearly 300 plus poems I have written, there are a few which are so so close to me. 'Blue Moon' is one.
It is typical of its genre, lost love. Years ago, I accidentally got in touch with my girl friend of decades back. One day I asked her ( email) whether she reads my blog, my poems. I had a reason to ask; because most of the intensely passionate poems were written around her. I wanted to know whether I could convey what I couldn't when I should have. One need not harbour real feelings to write truly; even the memories of real feelings can enthuse one to write as genuine. And she replied - 'Oh, once in a blue moon'.
Into the little aquarium at home, I drop a stone, smoothly rounded, that I had picked up from a riverbed. 'Thunk'! it goes down and settles on the sand-bed.
I might give 'Blue Moon' as the title for the next collection of poems - if published!
Interestingly, there is one Elvis song, 'Blue moon, you saw me standing alone...'
Blue Moon!
How would thee be?
Blue, like the skies over the mountains
Or the sea a hundred fathoms deep?
Would thee be a lavender blue
Or a fragrance of Satchmo’s jazz?
Nights –
I do not remember days anymore –
Nights –
Rattle of toddy cats on the roof
Rustle of the mango tree in the breeze
The howl of my dogs
Pining for love.
Through the window
A moon, waxing and waning
Clouded out.
She said she would glance at my words
Once in a blue moon.
I seek thee, Blue Moon!
How would thee come?
On the fourteenth night
Thy anklets tittering,
Lifting thy veil
And -
Looking at me with love?
****** Balachandran V, Trivandrum
Lovely and soulful. I wish she reads the lines. I am sure your collection will be published.
ReplyDeleteHow tender, how beautiful! Love, and the way it defies the onslaught of time, I sensed it in your poem. I’m yet to order your first collection from Flipkart, may the second too come out soon.
ReplyDeleteA wrong man in the wrong times!
ReplyDeleteSplendid !
I wont say "you let the cat out of the bag! :-)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful is an understatement. You should become a full time poet Balan
Hope the book does get published..
ReplyDeleteDon know..but didnt like this poem quite so much..
@Sujata: glad you liked it. It doesn't matter to me whether she has read/ will read the poem. The poem is work of imagination; part true, part fiction!:-)
ReplyDelete@Arun: it is out of stock at Flipkart, Arun! :-) One can be really tender - and one can also imagine tenderness! But love, yes - nothing is as sublime as love!
@Anil: 'kapada lokathil aathmarathmayoru hridyam-undaayathanen parajayam! :-)
@Bindu: Tempting suggestion, B, but poetry cannot buy me bread!
@Gymnast: Too paynkili, it could be! :-)
"Kapatalokathilennute kapatyam sakalarum kaanmathanen parajayam" enna patabedham oarthu poyi! :)
ReplyDeleteI quite liked the first part. However, the 2nd part appears a bit out of place (in style, form or flow), especially these lines:
ReplyDelete"She said she would glance at my words"
Once in a blue moon."
@RGB:
ReplyDelete"She said she would glance at my words
Once in a blue moon".
Actually those two lines are the key to the entire poem. Blue Moon is a phrase that denotes a rare occurrence, rare to the point of none.
The poem begins innocuously about the blue moon. It moves to the description of the night - this actually sets the scene and the mood - you have to visualize the poet standing in his room and looking out at the moon - the reader has no idea about what is to follow- then casually the coin drops - "She said she would glance at my words, Once in a blue moon." 'Oh', the reader realizes- 'so that's what he is blabbering about'.
By inserting the lines there, the poet tries to show a different dimension to the entire narration.
It had to be cryptic, jarring and out of flow - that is the intended effect.
The protagonist is yearning for the Blue Moon, something that is unlikely to appear, yet he yearns for that because the lover said that she glances at his words once in a blue moon, which is equivalent to saying that she doesn't at all.
In the first stanzas, the poet is wondering how it would look like, the blue moon. Is it the colour, is it the feeling that Jazz music gives? In his heart, the poet knows that the lover doesn't care for his poems, but like all jilted lovers, he is hoping against hope! :-)
A friend of mine once said after reading the poem that 'it is the height of lowliest grovelling shit'!! How much more can a man lower himself before a woman, he asked! ;-)
All this is not necessarily true; but the objective of the writer is to make it feel true to the reader...
Whew! that's a lot of effort, but thanks to you for making me interpret it. Usually when I write, it is impulsive; you really don't know why you chose a particular word or phrase - only in retrospection, I myself realize what I had meant to convey..!
Oh how beautiful! I'm sure it'll be published.
ReplyDeleteI read this before Balachandran.Still remember I left this space with a tightened chest.In fact few poems I had a similar feel dear.
ReplyDeleteNeedless to say,one of your brilliant poems !