Monday 15 April 2013

For the Heck of It!

Disclaimer: Don't expect any sane, or even semi-sane, things out of this post. It is an outcome of 3 jaded minds put together over a much needed doze of tall coffee cups, fooling around.

And because some fool - none of us want to admit to it, so we're blaming a faceless passer by - brought up the never resolved debate of "rhyming" in poetry.

Three around a round table.
High on coffee, low on sleep.
Three voices speaking at once.
One note pad. And sadly, only one pen.
A scuffle over controlling the pen.
A few pages of scribbles to come up with a "topic".
A few more pages of scribbles to please the topic.
The battle for pen continues.
And many more pages of scribbles later,
8 lines finalized.
8 lines that rhyme.
8 lines with a common theme.
And 8 lines so far from being poetic...

Nonetheless, here it goes. The fail attempt at poetic drabble of the day, by 3 people who can't seem to wrap their heads around real work that needs getting done, while dallying over coffee writing stuff that will definitely come back to haunt them.



So conspired the Goddess, unbenign
Whose favors from she fell
Her beauty - once a song divine -
None but would live to tell. 

For the beauty's transformed plight
- Should a mortal of flesh and bone -
Behold for but a tempted sight,
Would stun him into stone. 



[I think the safe name to give this... thing, above, is calling it a riddle. Consider it a riddle. Only one name fits the description. Any guesses? Hint: Think Greek legend, vanity, and curses. Answers in personal mail, if you're curious enough to guess/ask.]

ps: I want to dedicate this post to Nina Arief. Not that this post is anything half worth dedicating. But reading her comment at 4am on Monday morning cheered me up even in the face of an inevitably long week. Nina, if you come back here, and read this - thanks for putting that smile on my face.

I would dedicate it also, to the 2 people who contributed legit to the content of this post - but I doubt they'd want to own up having anything to do with... that thing written above. So yeh. Just being considerate and all.

Wednesday 3 April 2013

Of Passing Presentiments...

Words more ominous could be not
Than those which unassumingly thought
In any synonym, brief or long
'What could possibly here go wrong...'



I imagine the writing of these lines could have been in reaction to the events of the last couple weeks. Some of which have been really now! unexpected - only to have gone on and happened anyway.

But it was only today. The trigger to the muse.
A harmless discussion session with a bunch of volunteers about Shakespearean literature.
What common they thought, underlay all his works.
And someone, among many juxtaposing opinions, said the words.
What could possibly go wrong? 

A presentiment to every climax.
The comic. The tragic. The dramatic. The morbid.
Because there is an ironic antithesis to the very element of this instinct.
A niggling doubt that raises its head in rhetoric.
Reason that asserts itself against intuition, in vain.
What could possibly go wrong...