Mind

Mood

These days work involves a lot of travelling.

Some of it is nice, new sights and sounds. The liminal space of airports always just on that side of welcoming.

The travel soon gets tiresome, though. The two-and-a-half hours spent flying each way soon weigh on your veins. Sitting still becomes harder. Feeling anything but bone-deep tiredness becomes harder still.

Sometimes though, when it’s late, you catch a peek at the city below you as you land. And suddenly there is a spark that ignites your heart. Your synapses snap out of their trance, and you fall a little bit in love.

That is what this poem is about.

Note: over the next few weeks (hopefully before 2018 arrives), I will try to archive some of the poems I’ve written over the last few years which never made it out of my books.

Mood

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Mind

Grey cells (generations).

You know that feeling when when suddenly you have a vivid flashback to certain moments in your childhood? All of a sudden you find yourself surrounded by ghosts of memories and of people you loved so much. You realize how far you are from them, in distance, in time, in mortality.

This poem is for my family, as I remember from hot summer nights fifteen years ago. I loved them once. I had them once. Now I cherish the memories.

grey cells

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Mind

As you walk away.

15847872Photograph by Keith Morris, Nov/Dec 1971

This is perhaps my favorite picture of Nick. This is the one that will be tattooed on me in some form or another one day. Yesterday was his birthday. He’d be 68. I’m having a lot of trouble believing that. It’s almost inconceivable.

Nick Drake, 68.

It sort of rhymes, doesn’t it?

Anyway, as is tradition, I wrote him a poem. As the vestiges of the day slowly disappeared, I rushed to write it. Who knows why. It’s not like I get a special fan award for remembering him 42 years since his demise. Still.I guess it’s the thought that counts (although it isn’t even good).

I also realized today that he was born right around the summer solstice. Music takes over the world every year two days after his birthday. I think that’s quite poetic.

… enough dilly-dallying, here’s the poem. It is based at the same spot where the photo was taken.

As you walk away

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Mind

NaPoWriMo: Day 5

I thought a lot about the optional prompts and I’ve decided not to follow the ones for days 5 and 6. Here instead is a poem that has been in the works for a while now. I call it orgasmic.

This is a very incomplete yet sorted list of words (currently standing at 150) that I have been collecting for some time now. They are stunning and feel so incredibly good as they pass from between your lips

I’ve broken them up in the style in which I like to read them out loud. Speaking of reading out loud, please do it. Feel the words in your mouths, savor them. And if you don’t like the sound of your own voice, ask someone else to read it out to you. The power, the sensuality, the intensity… there is nothing like it.

day 5

(I hope anyone read this enjoys words as much as I do. I’ll probably post more poems in the same vein soon. Words are some of the prettiest things to exist and no matter what language you speak, I’m sure there are words/phrases/gestures/characters/intonations etc to fall in love with. Language is one of the greatest human triumphs, isn’t it?)

 

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Mind

Nick.

I’m trying to put all of my poetry here, just for the ease of access.

This is an old one, written for Nick Drake, an incredible folk singer from the ’60s, whose music kept me afloat in times I didn’t want to be. I owe Nick much of my life, and while we never shared a moment of co-existence, I’m so grateful for Nicholas Rodney Drake and so, so in love with him.

nick

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