To start with she hesitates, if at best,
Then unwinds, loosens up, forward to move
And begins to show tides like interest,
Immerses then in art of making love,
Not in any hurry to reach the crest,
A dove before, she now gets into groove,
No mean moist, in mood, looks for privacy
To give immense joy as spouse so happy.
___________________________
Translation (Ottava Rima) | 27.08.2025 | love, passion
Note: Here is a verse (in Shardul-vikridit meter) from Bhartrihari’s Shringaara Shatakam (hundred verses on love and romance). This verse is about the love-making ways of women-- how from being hesitant initially she becomes so passionate to leave aside all shyness. Here is the transliteration:
Pra-angaam eti mana aagana aagata rasam jaata abhilaashaam tatah,
Sa-vridam tat anu shlathi krtat anu pra-dhvasta dhairyam punah |
Prema aardram sprhaneeya nirbhara rahah kridaa pragalbham tatah,
Nihshanka anga vikarshana adhika sukham ramyam kula stree ratam || 60 ||
initially thought
I Am Anaya Asian girl
looking at the sky
They're smiling leniently don’t be silly
You can’t be apolitical these days
I’m smiling back I don’t trust them initially,
It doesn’t fall under a criminal offence
I’m fascinated by the incongruous lines
Just look at those familiar shapes, distorted
The early cubist paintings make them shine
Not blindingly, but just how you would want it
Ambiguous light of green and brown hues
Strict and fastidious lines, this is my politics
No one’s deprived, humiliated or abused
You’re in your favorite chair watching pics
It’s a spiritual job, not quite a passive leisure
Those pictures move in time can’t stay the same
They grow on you without any measure
Until your mind will get the best of frame
You hang out in the school of old escapers
The shooters cannot see us with their drone
Tomorrows ash deploy yesterdays papers
Don’t ask of yesterdays old girls – all gone.
Initially seems like the distance of tip of the needle ,
gradually drawing miles in the middle .
Leading to unnecessary battle ,
solving it can only settle .
The two become quiet ,
one the eyes clues there's a fight.
Breaking close relations ,
all over the nations .
~ Avantika
Initially seems like the distance of tip of the needle ,
gradually drawing miles in the middle .
Leading to unnecessary battle ,
solving it can only settle .
The two become quiet ,
one the eyes clues there's a fight.
Breaking close relations ,
all over the nations .
~ Avantika
The time has come
Another change to comb
Letting go of previous
To the new wonders initially with fears
Perceptions generated
Experiences to be liberated
Challenging the norms
Which come in all forms
But in reality
Overcoming internal hereditary
Clearing the misty misconception
Of clinging to the mistaken passion
By letting go
Freedom unfold
Today I’m grateful for remembering not to judge a person
by the person I initially see…
realizing I never know the kind of person
that person will turn out to be.
In the game of football, one may be
called for an infraction by the toss of a flag.
In basketball, there are whistles and 24 seconds to shoot.
In the sport of boxing, there is a clock and bell.
When I was a child, there was a game called 'marbles'.
In the game of marbles, initially, there was a line toward which each player tossed a marble to determine the first
to shoot his marble. There was an advantage to being the first shooter.
In the game of life, there are advantages and disadvantages, clocks, bells, flags, lines, and
Whistles. We are challenged by them. By them,
we may win or lose; grow and develope or
complain and allow them to control us.
REFLECTIONS AND VISIONS
I had laughter and occasional tears
As memories bubble up, unbidden
And thinking back to my early years
Times were quite different back then
The basics were dominant in my life
And luxuries were rare, as I recall
Yet, ambition was lurking deep within
That drove me to learn and apply
A pathway to achievement, I’d say
Albeit in a direction hardly chosen
But stumbling toward a realisation
That what is given should be used
Initially, perhaps to help mankind
But soon a dream was surrendered
To embrace the technological world
Where travel and experience grew
In a slick and less protected sphere
I survived, but with scars, I know
Until the magnetic call of industry
Clutched at me, suited and ready
Finance showed its alternate face
A career portfolio was established
Returning to health and social focus
Oh, but what was I really thinking
That politics would shrink away
Leaving me again, disappointed
But also fatigued, even with life
Retirement then peeked at me
A workplace ridden with lost hope
And seemingly in a flash, it ended
These days, I am saddened to say
It is tears and occasional laughter
The Widow
At sixteen she is a widow
She is still a kiddo
With a baby in her arm
Life will be no charm
She’s now like her brother
Who has a child without a mother
His wife chose the street
Killed as she was standing beat
But now she must look after herself
Not wanting to sit on the shelve.
Now she has a great need
her baby she must feed
Selling her body for her baby
with her that’s no maybe
Her baby must eat
and that’s a job she’ll meet.
After 2 years on the streets
A member of the gang she meets
Initially they fall for each other
Not knowing he killed his mother
Very soon he starts beating her
She now works for him in fear
He was found in an alley dead
He was shot in the head.
She realises in her life of sorrow
she will remain a widow.
She takes her baby she must feed.
So, she moves back to the street
George Denis Patrick Carlin
he was not everybody’s darlin’
initially everyone thought him a nerd
but then he gave us the seven words
I can't accept that we are not together
My chest just feels heavy and ready to explode
Everyone teaches you the concept of love
but none teaches how to live in their absence
I can't see happiness anywhere
Nothing excites me anymore
I don't find anything that makes me loved
It was you and only your love I ever wanted
Initially I was acting brave but I am not now
I can't see myself happy in your absence
Your upset face shatters my hearts into millions of pieces
who should I complain and express?
I got no one to express the pain .
My heart now just wants to explode due to agony
I want to hug you tight ,to express my love
I want to write my name on rock ,aim it to your face
then you would understand how much it hurts to be away from you.
INSPIRATION
I have often thought about inspiration
Process as well as the original stimulus
Is it the sudden image or thought itself
Or what might have first triggered that
Buried within the subconscious, perhaps
Or something noticed in the real world
Ever impinging on a sensory perception
Whether sight or sound, smell or touch
And taste, as well a strange sixth sense
It always seems to be something implicit
Behind the beauty and what is obvious
Inner workings, suspected or just known
A harmony, a rhythm, always a reaction
For me, it is any or all of these things
And sometimes initially unseen by others
Yet it is urging me to somehow share it
Often in words, and in a poor assembly
But it is the responsibility for all to see
For themselves, and what inspires them
Thursday, 2025.1.16
Happy birthday to my sister.
She turns a mile stone at the new corner.
Now she earns the title of being a senior.
Congratulations to you, my sister.
Congratulations to me too.
Today, I was introduced the Poetry's world.
I started to post my poems,
Few days later, my first piece of work,
Was listed in "This Week's Featured poems".
It was read by many viewers.
I was overwhelmed and flattered.
Initially, the poems were written,
To serve as my diary keeper.
Eventually, the writing got easy and easier.
I was glad, I met this poet,
Who I named "Mr Author",
He introduced me to the poetry's world,
Hopefully, I can continue on writing,
Post them all on the internet.
Thank you "Mr Author"
Thank you all the viewers.
It was all my pleasure.
For months, a poem was written a day
To serve as keeping my diary.
Wanted to stop at the end of a simple, pure and fun filling friendship.
For a while, my feelings and my writing headed different direction.
That caused me headache and panic.
Soon, I regretted for not letting my inner thoughts,
To flow as freely as it should be.
For suppressed my feelings unwillingly.
On top of that, I had no idea how to release my mind,
How to freely share my writing to mankind.
Then, one fine day in early this year,
After six months waiting and hoping,
Came along someone, who introduced Poetrysoup.com to me,
Somehow, it was like he answered my prayer,
And be my writing rescuer.
He also installed the relevant Apps,
And fully explained how to use it.
Then, all of the sudden, a thought of history would repeat.
Just like all other arts I currently pursuing,
It was initially inspired by someone with lots of fun,
But it ended up to entertain many others but the idea creator.
The new year just came around from the corner.
Am I heading to another disaster?
Dear God, please help me and take away all my sins.
If I ever did anything wrong, I honestly did not mean to do it.
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