My toothbrush, It travels When no one has their eyes open Or are listlessly staring At the slow moving Ceiling fan. When all are lost In their own private Heavens or sometimes hells. That is when my toothbrush Slings its bag On its bristly shoulder And sneaks away Mutedly Into…
Muses are like opportunities. They come knocking on your door at unexpected times. Sometimes you have been waiting impatiently, looking at your cellphone screen’s right hand side corner for that precise moment to strike, tapping your fingers on the side board. At times like those, you open the door without waiting or wondering who it…
And lo! Durga falls down VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL Made a recent trip to Kolkata during Durga Pooja. I planned to write a blog on the travel (before I went there) but after experiencing the whole city during the throngs of art, aesthetic, stories, religiosity, happiness and sheer sublimity, I am kind of out…
Just read a report on how big, fat tarantulas manage to stick to things that they want to. Invisible spiderman-like silk threads keep them there. But this post is not really about the glues. Or about anything in particular actually. If I need a reason to post (this is my blog you know, and…
An older poem from my other blog (which I will be deleting most probably!) A Word’s JourneyHesitantShe residesOn a quivering, moist lip.From the broken, beating, dying heart To the boiling cortex lobeThrough an ignited stimuli,To the barking voice box.She came with lightening-speedGrabbing on-edge, electric nerves An angry flash from the larynx Tornado-speed to the…
Just discovered the poem I had written for my wedding! Had completely forgotten about the emotions I felt then. This was made into a card and sent to all our friends. Hope you enjoy it! Tweet
A dog-eared book With a scribbled smiley Accidently splashed with water Now a confused clown. That dirty, stuffed pink rabbit Clipped on the glass Of a closed god’s shelf. A dried browned petal of a rose Pressed carefully between yellowed pages Leaving behind silhouette imprints Of forgotten, hazy memories. A silver ring with multiple loops…
Tittered, scattered. Lying crumpled in old, forgotten sands Are broken wings Fluttered by the cold northern winds Fluttered into awakening, they sing Of bygone, forgotten worlds Histories of great empires and grandeur Of souls and decomposed bodies Lying in the sands with them Forgotten, splattered. (c) Shweta Taneja, Aug 2010 Tweet
