what am i saying here

When an eye to eye interaction is helpful to convey most of the things .A nicely composed, true from heart writing on paper would not be able to communicate what was actually meant. When rather wide audience are present ,the author needs to be capable of vending his feelings on the paper rather tactfully and with a fore-sight in to future and be sure to his knowledge of what he meant is conveyed, with out that may be the effort of writing is not worth it.
A man and his feelings are papyrus and what we write on the paper is vinegar, I always felt that there should be that thin shield between the two which would appreciate the combination by making the inner soul wrapped in much secure bonding
, while a volatile bonding means an unwanted combination of both leaving the soul bare to the, unforgiving world.
When a eye contact and a straight speech is enough then why to bare your soul on a medium which potentially holds the door to disaster more in a case where the author is a product of his own doubts? Million dollar question? I pondered over this question for a while and got a zillion answers, again none would stand against the force of spears that would break through the shields of Spartan shields. Well I have been a scrambler for three years now, I am trying to fine that thin line that would shield the papyrus of my audience, and I have to mention who are quite a handful and close at heart.
I have come across quite a few articles which passed me like a gentle breeze but nonetheless it was hurricane for some others. So now that puts me in an other interesting situation is it that I have to cater to those papyri those can take my vinegar (well with a resigned thought that vinegar is not good for papyrus).Well how will it be when a dear to heart community or person is offended by the venom you instigate through the nib or rather the keyboard.
Like many of the question which stem in mind this too has no definite answer, so is it like what that cricketer captain says...”When a move pulls off ,u look a genius and the same back-fires you look stupid”. Well all said I am still writing, perhaps I do not care about the papyri or I think this is the way I an reach a papyri that would like my shielded vinegar. Early days for me to answer the question, well the hope for me is at least there is light at the end of tunnel, that the scrambling does make a bit of rumble and the innocent looking white paper does become a painted wall, Sistine chapel’s or a public bathroom’s wall ,glory or doom, well that is for the papyri to decide.
But it will hurt when the papyrus is a death scroll or a treasure map, but then that is the way it is…..Long time due ,but the weight of failure weighs on the neck as a sword well what a dilemma for a novice what a dilemma….

My Poem has no name

Twilight gives away to night
My body resting on a cosy couch

Mind swirling back in time
In what people call a dream

There i was Curling in warmth
Away from the cold world
in the womb of a lady

Shearing pain ,blinding night
there i was,in to what they call world

Strange voices,some flashes
Shadow moving happily,later i call him dad

A thunder in the distant sky
I see my self in a desert ,my sleep's gone

I look across the bed
There i am away from the warmth
Frail body like a dry leaf

Familiar voice ,i feel cold
Silence prevails,some shapes
desperate,they call me Dad

I move in to a darkness
Calmness takes me in to its womb
I feel the warmth again yet again after so many years.....

Long Ago.....

Long ago I sang a song of love in to air
For some poet said that it would reach my lady's heart

Long ago i wrote a poem of love
For someone had said that it impresses yurr sweetheart

Long ago i danced to to exhaustion
For somewher it was written feelign should be given a vent

All the while i forgot to tell people my feelings
For i had not come across a song or word to do so

Now for a short-while at my death bed
I feel heaven waiting for me with its door open

For someone had just told me how they loved me......

--Sundar M R

Oh Dear Lady

Sparks of bright light
Lights my soul

Lies on the couch
My body sans soul

Thoughts take wings
as legs go numb

Dry goes my throat
Wet gets my eyes

You come in my dreams
Arresting my thoughts

You are in my breathe Lady
You are in my soul

Gardener Roses and the Nightangles

In the garden of his life
Once he thought that he was the master

He could grow his roses ,some red and some white
He could cut his weeds black and blue

Times passed by with no change coming
Then came some nightangles to his groove

Slowly began the adjustments,roses began to dry
Listening to the nightangles he left them to their fate

He knew he was getting it all wrong
He knew one day they would fly leaving him alone

Yet the tunes were so sweet ,he couldn't do more
One day they left him,his heart as dry as his roses

Stars of Confidence

Through a carven window pane
On a lovely frozen country lane

Looks a boy crippled in limb
Shunned frm world thoughts so numb

Sprinkled are bright stars so white
On the dark canvas of the night

Shringking was the moon
The other night promising to be bright

Bringing ripples of thoughts
Shone those gallant stars

Better was he from those
So inconsistent as the moon

T glow was his destiny
Even blessed less......

There Lies a Man Dead

There Lies a man Dead
Body as cold as his mind

Alive was he till a moment
Life moving out like a snake from its hide

In his journey from silence to silence
I wonder if he reached his destiny

World would have been colourful
to those eyes of his now pale

He goes now to the almight
His soul covered in whites

Waiting For the Dawn

At dawn with the rise of sun
will come a charm to our lives
activating everyone's spines

Birds start to chirp
Chasing dreams go people

Puddling the ponds play children
Buzz goes the world wild

Biting the time of the day sits a destitute
prowling the street,eyes in constant search

Cool comes the moon,with it brings bliss
Calm goes the world to much of his amaze

Busy become the owl patrolling the groves
out comes the crickets playing their tunes

Still there he lies ,blind to the beauty of day's course
Dawn or dusk ,doesn't matter when his hunger is at hike

Pavement as home,spends he his life
Waits for his dawn,for the sun ....
Will it bring his food...

Written 21/1/03

Agression .... Naaaa Nicety..Naaa

So I decided enough of being nice,let us get aggressive.Enough of being timid in the mask of nicety ,enough of thousand other things i always thought i was ,today was the day,now was the moment when people have to run for cover.Well the time has come all the things that fizzed past me now have to stop,all the people who do not have time to have a glance at me should stop on their heels.
I woke up in the morning with that thought in mind,determined to show this new found aggression,brushed my teeth,had my coffee,moving to GYM ,to my frustration nothing has happened as of yet,no one is crossing my path.The same old story "Kalle kanda naaye kaanam ,naye kanada kalle kaanam" - Meaning when u find a stone you wont find a dog and when u find that dog you wont find that stone,my situation is nothing better,OK i thought let me move on to work ,there would be more than one occasion to show my aggression.Alas as my luck would have it,it was leave at the offshore,i came running home there was this highlights of the match,India vs Aus ,i knew India lost,but i wanted to see how......
There was our Sreesanth ,my inspiration for aggression.At the end of the high lights session i saw how aggression helps ,or rather wanting to be aggressive without intent ..... helps......,good that my manager was not around today in office ....,...., Nice is better....Lesson learnt what next ....common buddy "Night is Young and lot of bottles in the cupboard"