September

September cools,
the laundry flies

Like paintings
brushed against
the skies.

The skies are seas
of azure blue,

And clouds scud
by like sailboats
do!

~

That picture and poem are part of a hand-painted calendar a friend’s friend made a few years ago. She is an artist who makes her living doing exactly this sort of whimsical and utterly delightful thing.

I have this sheet put up above my desk. Just looking at it transports me to the world of that painting. What could possibly be lovelier than lying on the grass on a breezy, sunny September evening, empty of all thought, watching the washing flying above you? Mind, it is not a complete escape. It acknowledges that the washing has to be done, but also that it will indeed get done just in time to let you lie, pleasantly exhausted from the exertion, on the cool earth and feel the wind blow your cares away.

Short leave

I’m sure you’ve noticed the lack of activity in these parts over the last couple of weeks. Work, a bad back and local travel are to entirely blame. And over the next couple of weeks, more work and long-distance travel will take over as the culprits. Will come back and make up for it with lots of pictures.

Puttandu vazhutukkal, Vishu Ashamsagal, Shubho Nabobarsha!

Second home

Varali now has another blog. Named for one of her favourite trees. Into which she’ll throw some poems and perhaps prose she doesn’t want to post here, for complex reasons.

But this new blog she wants to keep private. WordPress is a delight in many ways but doesn’t allow passworded blogs. So she won’t link to it here. But if you ask nicely (on email), she’ll give you the link. And hope you won’t share it.

Break

There is much work.
Subjected to the shirk,
Neglected for eternity,
It now threatens sanity.

See you in a ten days. Or eleven.
Who knows, it may just be seven.

Godawful poetry

In celebration of the Godawful Poetry Fortnight which originates here.

My heart leaps up when I view
  A rosogolla on the menu:
So it was when I became diabetic
  So it is now my self control is pathetic
So it be when I develop cardiac disease
  Or let me die!
The sweet is the bane of the tempted
And I could wish my artery wall
To be unclogged by cholesterol.

No apologies to anything or anyone

Arrgh

Trying to embed a video unsuccessfully, one experiments with all manner of things and then deletes two posts by mistake. Full irritation and then hajaar sadness only.