Monday, October 01, 2007


One of my most favorite poet blogs , recently (or maybe not too recently) spoke about Fibs These are poems that work based on the famous Fibonacci series. The lines of the poem follow the 1/1/2/3/5/8... syllable rule. I was so impressed by this form, I had to give it a shot and what better topic to explore than math itself. So here goes nothing...

Not amused?
What have you to say?
Fibonacci is here to stay!

Another one.

And Z.
Is not so hazy
Mix the letters, toss them around
What you get, will not be safe and nor will it be sound.

They are fun and easy :)

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Vacation in the Mountains

This picture has been my desktop wallpaper for quite some time now. Every time I look at it, I am instantly transported to a serene place surrounded by mountains. This feeling is so overpowering that I had to pen it down. So here goes...

Vacation in the Mountains
- Narmeen

The clouds hug the mountain top
Flying low over the snow;
And the mist shrounds the growing crop
Beside the clear lake below.

The plain stretches across the land
As far as the eyes can see
And there the white windmills stand
As tall as they can be.

By the mountain runs a babbling brook
Teasing the giant oak trees
And there in a cool shady nook
Whistling, comes the breeze.

A pretty little house stands beside the lake,
Facing the rising sun.
The aroma spreads as I bake
Cinnamon cake and a sweet bun.

Faraway from the madding crowd
Solitary as the fabled Reaper,
I sing my song not so loud
And dive into my thoughts deeper.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Samhain's Tale

Samhain means the 'end of summer' and marks the third and final harvest after which starts the dark winter half of the year. It is generally celebrated on October 31st or November 1st. This 'Feast of the Dead' is celebrated by leaving food offerings for the spirits of loved ones and other naughty and good sprites that enter the world through the Veil, which is the thinnest on the night of Samhain. In today's world, Samhain also coincides with Halloween's eve. The symbols of Samhain include Jack-o-lanterns, mint, black stones, sage, mulled wines.

Samhain's Tale
- Narmeen

Darkness spreads her wings at night
Amidst mugwort, sage and mandrake.
Disturbed by the Jack-o-lanterns light,
She heads towards the lonely lake.

Carrying the scents of nutmeg and mint,
She glides toward the village fire
And then without a clue or hint
She descends upon the folks of shire.

With besoms and nightshade and cats all black
She calls her sprites through the Veil;
They catch the unsuspecting in a sack
And tell them Samhain's tale.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Majestic Fall

Fall - the festival of colors evokes powerful emotions in most people. The fading light of the sun and the crisp scented air lightens the heart and spirit. Autumn is celebrated by most cultures as a time when Mother Earth gets ready for her annual sleep before rebirth. Wiccans celebrate the aging of the Goddess as she passes from Mother to Crone and await the winding down of the year at Samhain. The Druids call the autumnal equinox feast as Mea'n Fo'mhair and honor the God of the forest - the Green Man by offering libations to trees. It is a time to finish old businesses and get ready for a period of rest, relaxation and rejuvenation with warm pumpkin pies, hot cider and lots of reading.

Majestic Fall
- Narmeen

Red and orange leaves drift by the window,
Leaving a blazing trail around the wall.
My face is lit up in a fireless glow
As I witness the arrival of Fall.

A hazy smoke lies over the harvested field
Like a curtain blocking the winter's call,
And gathering the bounty of this year's yield
I walk under the red light of Fall.

With scent of fallen apples and the dust of threshed grain
Lingering over turned earth in the far away knoll,
I wander alone on the meandering lane
In the sharp gentle chill of Fall.

Around the grapes' sweet odors, the yellow butterfly
Crowns the Autumn maple in the seasonal ball,
And under the fair September sun I lie
Basking in the glory of the majestic Fall.

As the Harvest moon rises over the crispy night
And black robbins sing out in a silky drawl,
I sit by the hay in the fading light
And offer a toast to the Green Man of Fall.

- Narmeen

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

300 Spartans

“Our army is great,” the Persian says, “and because of the number of our arrows you will not see the sky!”
Then a Spartan answers: “In the shade, therefore, we will fight!”

The Spartans were among the bravest men history has ever come across, most renowned for their battle of Thermopylae, where 300 spartans were said to have met thousands of the Persian army in a battle to invade Greece. It is no wonder then that multitudes of poems have been written on this topic, hailing the victorious dead and recalling the fame and glory of these brave warriors.

The King with half the East at heel is marched from land of morning;
Their fighters drink the rivers up, their shafts benight the air,
And he that stands will die for nought, and home there's no returning.
The Spartans on the sea-wet rock sat down and combed their hair.
- A.E. Housman, The Oracles

"The greatest form of flattery is Imitation". This being said, the numerous works inspired by the Spartans and their adventures themselves cry out for eternity the immortality of these men and also of the contemporary poets who wrote about them. Many great speeches quote the words of bravery spoken by or of this warrior nation that changed the face of the Greek empire and thwarted all plans of establishment of the Persians in Europe.

"When boyhood's fire was in my blood
I read of ancient free men
In Greece and in Rome where bravely stood
300 men and three men "
- Thomas Osborne Davis, A Nation Once again

Spartans were the stalwarts in bringing together the smaller nations and preparing and leading them to battle to guard their lands. It must be pointed out though that the spartans were never an Empire, they were a League, born to fight!

"When You Go Home,
Tell Them Of Us And Say,
For Their Tomorrow,
We Gave Our Today"
- Commonwealth cemetery war memorial (inspired by the spartan works)

Perhaps their most famous line, uttered when they were asked to surrender their arms to the Persians in the famous battle, says it all, depicting their attitude and philosophy in absolute...

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Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Cruel Dolls

As a kid, I loved dolls; I had dolls of all kinds except for barbies (for some reason I never really liked them). I used to have doll houses with little doll furniture and utensils, little showers and curtains, little combs and clips and pots and pans. I used to imagine being a part of their family, playing with them, teaching them, mothering them and even creating magic with them as I took off on one adventure after other, to the hills and distant sea shores, searching for toadstool rings and fairy shoes. During all of these escapades, I always felt like I was my doll's best friend, it never occured to me that my dolls might ever find me annoying or if they would prefer to do something other than what I wanted them to do ... Recently, as I was wandering through poetry land, I came across 'The Dolls' by WB Yeats, one of the greatest poets of the 20th century and that's when these thoughts entered my head, I am so glad I did not read this poem as a kid, and I hope no little girl ever reads it.

The Dolls
- WB Yeats

A doll in the doll-maker's house
Looks at the cradle and bawls:
"That is an insult to us."
But the oldest of all the dolls,
Who had seen, being kept for show,
Generations of his sort,
Out-screams the whole shelf: "Although
There's not a man can report
Evil of this place,
The man and the woman bring
Hither, to our disgrace,
A noisy and filthy thing."
Hearing him groan and stretch
The doll-maker's wife is aware
Her husband has heard the wretch,
And crouched by the arm of his chair,
She murmurs into his ear,
Head upon shoulder leant:
"My dear, my dear, O dear,
It was an accident."