Ostensible Poetry

Augmented Reality

I thought I was the luckiest girl

In the world

Because the night was quiet

And the stars were bright

There was a light breeze

To blow my hair lightly

So I skipped along the way

With a bounce in my step

In a car-less night

I put my hand through my lover’s

His skin made me smile

I swung his hand

Absent-minded, he smiled

I sighed to the sky

For a beautiful life

When I saw the moon

A flawless circle

As I gazed on

It twinkled so white

And I said to my lover

“Look! Look at that!”

I said as if in a dream

“What?” he asked in wild haste

‘Did you get Pikachu?”

 

By Srish

My God

I’ve heard people talk of God

In the great blue sky and sitting in our souls

In the sun and the river

And always, always in the food we have

Serve him, they say, serve the God

And he will be there for you

He will stand by you, and help you

And bless you and make you prosper

And rich

And healthy

And shower you with all that you could need

For you are his child

But you serve him

And you serve him well

You do as per his will

And his purpose

The purpose

He made for generations of humans

For we are all his children

And we are meant to seek his guidance

And he asks us

To abide by his good

And his bad

And your duty, as bid

So shine the light

Take the torch

Enlighten the ignorant

And fulfill the purpose

For it is the will of God

The God who knows all

And Judges all

And creates all

And that is God, they say

That is your God, they say

That is everyone’s God, they say

 

But I feel it in my heart

A different God

I feel it in my veins

In my morning thoughts

When I live a new day

I feel my God

In the love that I bear

For the beauty around

In the people I choose to love

In the people I’m born to love

In the art that I love

The words that spring from love

In the music that moves me

And the pictures that hold me

In rapture, of its creation

And so I seek my God

In the art that I make

In the words that I make

In the tragedies of life

In death’s unflinching gaze

I find my God

In the security of family

In the eyes of that boy

In the desire of my own heart

Which seeks to do some good

This is my God

This, right here, is my God.

 

 

Why, art

[Image source: http://blog.artandwriting.org/2013/05/10/why-are-art-and-writing-important-to-you/]

Our desire to keep on existing

is what makes the timeless valuable.

Timeless, something that defies Time,

the Great Eroder,

if not the Destructor,

whose passing no man can withstand,

for one day we will all be

fine powder and dust,

lost in the grains of sand.

Is this not why

we all wish to leave behind

a legacy,

a proof of our existence,

a tiny, solitary ink mark,

which no matter how minuscule

may seem in the cosmic infinity of space and time,

still raises a voice,

however feeble,

here once walked you and I.

Sonnets of earlier centuries,

little love poems written by courtiers

for mistresses who were unattainable,

emphasized a lovely point

the best thing in the world would be

to have your love accepted,

and reciprocated.

But since the object of desire

is unattainable,

the next best thing would be

to immortalize your unfulfilled love.

Isn’t that exactly what we do,

when we strive to create art

which will never be forgotten,

as our own physical being

finds it impossible to overcome

its own mortality,

so we find the next best thing that can-

the Idea, and its Creation.

The Irreplaceability of Physicality

Touch

muffled

a beating heart, echoing

the comfort of an arm

the privilege in being able to shut your eyes

in not having to deal with things

of weight

of a leaning head, and a shoulder

of a grasping hand

of tickles, and a voice so close

you think you can almost catch it

a buddy system

to cross-check

for one mind can be wrong

but two rarely ever are

for one heart can be rash

but two rarely ever are

for bad luck, too,

can be countered.

And so

Physicality is irreplaceable.