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Blogs by mbfarookh
Posted Mar 23, 2024 | Poetry | 195 Views   (Updated Mar 23, 2024 04:16 PM)

HUNGER UNFED

Format: Free Verse with 10 syllables per line of verse It was a cold winter's day, the wind howled Sky missing hiding above, the dark clouds that were pelting rain had revenge on mind the cold, wet city was like a death-trap... Format: Free Verse with 10 syllables per line of verse It was a cold winter's day, the wind howled Sky missing hiding above, the dark clouds that were pelting rain had revenge on mind the cold, wet city was like a death-trap for the aged and homeless with no place to go and cover themselves with blanket on a soft warm bed with double pillows and a full stomach with warm homemade food ... Roopsingh, an old man of eighty-odd years was shivering under the scant covers all day there were no passersby because of the biting cold and incessant rain, to give a few coppers or leftovers, the hunger within him was growing as his shivering did, he could hear the growls his belly was making under protest ... The wind had picked up driving the rain onto the footpath where Roopsingh lay sprawled drenched to the bone unable to protect himself from the vagaries of nature the shivering had increased and his teeth were starting to chatter, not a whole lot of them were left though with advancing age breath passing through his missing teeth, whistling ... A streak of lightning split the dark blinding Roopsingh temporarily followed by a loud thunderclap that shook the buildings and rattled doors and windows to a fall The deafening sound almost took his breath away leaving an echo in his ears. Roop's poor belly growled just as the wind howled he moaned with guttural pain losing sense ... Roop wondered how many have gone unfed and how many have to bear the bitter cold, he was still concerned about others forgetting his own predicament of gut-wrenching pain and cold body shivers Morning papers carrying a small caption, "Rain claims one more life on deadly footpath", missed the point, Roop died of unfed hunger. ... Hunger is a worldwide problem unsolved Many die of hunger among the poor The rich have enough food to eat and throw away the rest with scant concern for the needy and the poor, a dangerous trend the habit of eating less and leaving more on the plate must be condemned strictly and awareness raised regarding the poor. ... mbfarookh (C) Copyright 2024 Read More
Tags: hunger food homeless poor death life mbfarookh
Posted Mar 21, 2024 | Poetry | 168 Views   (Updated Mar 21, 2024 09:16 AM)

BLACK AND WHITE

Poem Format: Rhyme Each stanza increments by one syllable... 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 ... Angels and brides do come in white. All things beautiful, light and bright. Demons and witches prefer black, evil ways and means to attack. ...... Poem Format: Rhyme Each stanza increments by one syllable... 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 ... Angels and brides do come in white. All things beautiful, light and bright. Demons and witches prefer black, evil ways and means to attack. ... White, pure, inspiring, eternal love, gift of peace, freedom, and turtle dove. Black signifies ever cold darkness spreading in the heart unchaste blackness. ... Pretty seven colours add up to white. Black has powers that take away the light. White and black, colours contrast in nature bringing out emotions that birth, nurture. ... Black, the preferred choice of people in power, dressing in black suit, shoes, case, car, all over. Black is so tempting just as all bad things are, White is regal virgin canvas above par. ... Character is ever etched not in black and white, are dubious shades of grey that are seldom slight. Colours have character, beware the type of light, that shines upon them to help us wear what is right. mbfarookh (C) Copyright 2024 Read More
Tags: Black white rhyme Poetry colours comparison general mbfarookh
Posted Mar 14, 2024 | Poetry | 217 Views   (Updated Mar 14, 2024 10:52 AM)

APPRECIATION

"Without memory there can be no insight. Without love, there can be no appreciation." Anne Rice From the deepest recesses of the crowded hall Came a thunderous applause that shook the... "Without memory there can be no insight. Without love, there can be no appreciation." Anne Rice From the deepest recesses of the crowded hall Came a thunderous applause that shook the walls An artist par excellence was on stage taking a last bow For four and forty years he had regaled the audience with his High-octane performances and sonorous dialogues He was a master of his craft, a consummate artist When he sang, little fairies danced in the air When he spoke, angels would gather to listen to The most heavenly and articulate voice ever Whenever on stage he eclipsed others His performances bringing coolness to the eyes His magical voice poured nectar into the ears Desperate to be soothed from the jarring sounds of modern music Today, was no different, it was an act beyond compare Far exceeding the expectations of an indulgent audience Overflowing the balconies. There was acting, singing, comedy, and serious moments It didn’t matter if there wasn’t enough seating for all It didn’t matter if the air-conditioning was struggling To keep the jampacked hall cool It didn’t matter if the power was off for more than an hour What mattered was they had come to watch their Favourite artist, to inspire and be inspired. “Artists crave for appreciation” is a statement long flogged to death by writers, yet it contains the essence of truth not recognized by many and unreciprocated by a few. This seasoned artist was of a different ilk As he rose to speak there was again a Thunderous applause Greeting him, which was for the umpteenth time It took ages before it died down Finally, the audience had a chance to listen to The maestro. “Dear ladies and gentlemen,” said he You have loved and appreciated my work For many decades You have honoured me with great compliments and accolades I am forever grateful for the love you’ve showered On me”. He took a deep breath, tried to say something But stopped, his breathing seemed laboured, his face Wrought with anxiety. At last, the words came out “With great sadness, I announce that I shall be retiring today, I won’t be performing again.” The audience was stunned into silence Glad nobody has a pin to drop. I thought Suddenly, the 6.2 feet tall figure that had graced the stage For more than four decades came crashing down Much bigger than a pin, the sound was even more Deafening People rushed to the stage but to no avail The lifeless body lay there with sadness Reflecting on the face The crowd swelled, displaying mixed emotions Appreciation for the genius and sadness for losing him He had left this world never to return, to ply his trade He lived, strived, and craved for appreciation And died for it. Read More
Tags: appreciation performance Singing celebrity emotions mbfarookh Poetry freeverse
Posted Mar 12, 2024 | General | 182 Views   

AS I WALK...

It's the beginning of summer, as I begin to walk before sunrise there is still a decided chill in the air the cool, crisp air embraces my warm... It's the beginning of summer, as I begin to walk before sunrise there is still a decided chill in the air the cool, crisp air embraces my warm body like a lover in the throes of passion Rejuvenation and exhilaration course through my veins I watch and take stock of things even at this early hour, there is fast-moving traffic crossing the road is fraught with risk danger lurks in the form of sleepless, irresponsible drivers Hit-and-run cases are on the rise, so I must stick to the footpath. As I walk, contemplate I wonder about the real state of 'New India' growing and developing at a rapid pace poised to overtake many developed nations on the brink of becoming an economic and military superpower I feel good and reassured about India's bright future You kind of feel proud that India has come of age in a world order dictated by dominant countries India is creating a niche of its own, A voice that is heard A political stance that is responsible, and respected. But, are we reaching the acme of societal development? A question difficult to ask, but much harder to answer As I contemplate while walking, lost in my thoughts The stink of urine hits me hard and I'm jostled back to reality looking around, I find people urinating with nonchalance It's a busy public place, but even this has not been spared by new-age heroes who like to flout every law with impunity unmindful of the passers-by, and oblivious to the shame they bring to themselves, and the nation Ironically, two swacchalays are open for use a few feet away standing as a mute witness to the 'heroic' deeds perpetrated daily without fear or shame The perpetrators are not beggars or homeless, or the downtrodden they are sufficiently paid employees of the government with an unwritten, unspoken right to flout the rules As I walk on the footpath I am forced to weave through illegal encroachments and open def*cation I dare not walk on the road due to the unpredictable, and dangerous traffic, in the event I did I would also be judged as flouting the rules The municipal sweepers are sweeping a few feet away the 'urinators' are doing their thing freely and without remorse a scene I find hard to reconcile I wonder, are we even concerned about societal development Is patriotism and nationalism all about mouthing 'Jai Hind' or saluting the Indian flag? Do these words have nothing to do with keeping the nation clean and 'swacch'? Can society develop if the rich keep getting richer and the poor keep getting poorer? Should the public take the law into their hands, because the law-keepers are missing in action? As I walk, it is getting stinkier... mbfarookh (C) Copyright 2024 Read More
Tags: Society development Public Place contemplation life in a City mbfarookh
Posted Mar 10, 2024 | Cricket | 151 Views   (Updated Mar 12, 2024 09:47 AM)

ROHIT AND STOKES -- DIFFERENT STROKES

A series that had been touted as England’s ‘Bazball’ versus India’s ‘Spinball’ was supposed to be a cliffhanger, but petered out into one of the most embarrassing damp squibs for England. In the end, &#... A series that had been touted as England’s ‘Bazball’ versus India’s ‘Spinball’ was supposed to be a cliffhanger, but petered out into one of the most embarrassing damp squibs for England. In the end, 'Jazball' came into the limelight. India’s Spinball did alright, but England are looking to dig a hole and cover themselves with earth. Test cricket is an unforgiving format and players are found out easily unlike other hit-and-giggle formats. This is an arena where reputations are made, and broken and careers buried. England’s batting stars built a cult around them and oozed an aura of invincibility that brooked no nonsense. But, to beat India in India is a task of Himalayan proportions as South Africa and Australia, two of the best test-playing nations in the world, found out. As is their wont, England were smug, and overconfident with their approach… not to mention rigid. They had no skills to counter Bumrah and the spin trio of Ashwin, Kuldeep, and Jadeja. Neither did their bowlers have the skills to dislodge Jaiswal, Rohit, Gill, and the lesser batsmen. It was an irony that they won the first test despite being behind the eight-ball for most of the time. When you look at that particular test match closely, it was India that gifted the match, on a platter, to the Bazballers. England must thank their cricketing gods that they escaped from being thoroughly whitewashed and hanging from a line (I guess, at least, some of their cricketers’ careers are hanging on a line). The English Bazballers had just one gear in their batting crank box and that was top gear. That’s one of the reasons that their engine stuttered and coughed at low speeds, sometimes stalling altogether. In test cricket, you need the patience to wait for the bad ball and the ability to put that away to the boundary when it comes. For that, you need an impregnable defence and unwavering focus. They were also so rigid in their approach that when their stock approach failed, they had no Plan B. I doff my hat to the Indian team which actually played like a team, cohesive in their batting and incisive in their bowling. When things were not working out they had Plans B and C, and the aptitude to implement them. That is the sign of a formidable world-beating team. We are not even discussing Virat Kohli, KL Rahul, Mohd. Shami, and Hardik Pandya. Hence, this thumping series victory is that much more sweet. Though there were memorable performances from many Indian players, one man stood out for his confidence, sheer ability, ruthlessness, and gumption for big scores – Yashasvi Jaiswal. He was the one who set the tone with his Sehwagesque style of batting. That was the difference between the two teams though one might add that Indian spin was far superior to what England had to offer. India is by far the most consistent side in Test cricket and has the credentials to show. It’s just sheer bad luck that they couldn’t win the finals on the last two occasions. Time will heal those wounds, and victory will be much sweeter. In the end, Rohit’s calm and imaginative captaincy proved to be much more effective than Stokes’ rigid and rudderless approach. mbfarookh (C) Copyright 2024 Read More
Tags: cricket test series England India mbfarookh
Posted Mar 07, 2024 | Poetry | 187 Views   

A WORLD WITHOUT WAR

The Sands of Time are sinking, foundation of peace quaking, Under the mountains of hatred ... The Sands of Time are sinking, foundation of peace quaking, Under the mountains of hatred Peace finds itself ransomed; Human greed is overflowing, thirst for Sapiens’ blood is growing; Leaders on a whim are orchestrating the wars that the nations are fighting. To help satisfy the egos of a few Whole nations suffer, as a consequence, blame games continue; Ambitions of a few lead to the the folly of many; Most wars are fought on false pride, A quality profuse among Leaders of a Feather; War is forged in leaders’ minds, Peace takes its humble birth in the hearts of the masses, If peace is to survive Past wrongs must remain in the past. It’s hard to imagine A world without war, the merchants of terror have invested Trillions of dollars in standing armies, and weapons of mass destruction; The same resources could be invested in sprightly human development; Countries could focus more on Society and peace. Wars have been prevalent and history a mute witness, yet a world without war is not a Utopian dream, far from it, it could be a real possibility. A world without war would be a great opportunity for society to develop and flourish; The immense loss of life, property, and infrastructure is saved from destruction; No more war casualties, no more families ruined, no more refugees; Countries would focus more on their development Instead of contending with hostile nations. A thought, there wouldn’t be hostile nations, to begin with; Where there’s peace there’s stability, where there’s stability there’s all-round progress; As a species humans are not violent, a world without war is not a far-fetched dream if only we could revisit our beliefs, choices, and actions in all honesty. mbfarookh (C) Copyrights 2024 Read More
Tags: war PEACE weapons hatred freeverse human greed megalomania mbfarookh
Posted Mar 07, 2024 | Mobile | 165 Views   

ENCHANTRESS OF HEARTS

In the garden of sheer grace, I serenade The ethereal beauty in you, inner. That shall never with the passage of time fade, Even as you grow old, w... In the garden of sheer grace, I serenade The ethereal beauty in you, inner. That shall never with the passage of time fade, Even as you grow old, will be the winner. Beauty so magical ne’er I’ve seen before, Brings out the inner peace in you to the fore. You mean the world to me enchantress of hearts, Bewitched, reached a point where sanity departs. mbfarookh (C) Copyright 2024 Read More
Tags: love romance Wife rhyme Poetry
Posted Mar 05, 2024 | Poetry | 123 Views   

HUNTING THE HUNTER

Moonlight shines on the lake, The gentle ripples make it shimmer in the eyes like slivers of silver, Dancing on the unstill water surface.... Moonlight shines on the lake, The gentle ripples make it shimmer in the eyes like slivers of silver, Dancing on the unstill water surface. In the chilly, late Autumn evening, The cold wind blows across Welcoming the winter With it, stabbing icy daggers. A lone stranger on the deserted road Walks with a forced stoop, To prevent the onslaught Of the unkind wind on his harrowed face. A shadow darts across in the dark In a blur, where did it come from And where did it disappear? Swift of legs, silent on toes, hunting its prey The birds are settled high in their cosy nests Unable to grapple with the vagaries of nature, The chicks are under the wings of their parent birds The gloom of the day has passed into the night making it appear dark and sinister, The bats dart from their cave Of hiding, to catch anything edible to survive. A staccato bark followed by a whiny yelp breaks the deafening silence of the night, there is someone who wishes to remain unheard, unseen A plan pays off, the enthusiastic bark was the signal For the stranger to strike, In a lightning move the gleaming Edge of the machete homes onto the target The head flies, blood gushes out, and a life is taken One more infiltrator bites the dust The dog, silent as ever Is back with its master happily wagging its tail The forensic and Anti-terrorism squads arrive for a thorough check confirming the dead intruder was a terrorist with a suicide vest, AK-47, and cocaine Salute the soldiers whose job is the riskiest of all, they risk everything To ensure that we, the citizens, live in peace To pursue our goals and hobbies, and write poetry. mbfarookh (C) Copyright 2023 Read More
Tags: salute soldiers freeverse anti-terrorism hunting mbfarookh Poetry
Posted Mar 05, 2024 | Poetry | 146 Views   (Updated Mar 05, 2024 05:41 AM)

I AM TIME

I am Time, I do not know Where I’ve come from Nor do I know whither I am going I only know that I started i... I am Time, I do not know Where I’ve come from Nor do I know whither I am going I only know that I started in the past And am going to the future I can’t stop myself even If poets mistakenly say I stand still sometimes If I stand still, I’ll cause chaos If I move back I’ll kill people Or bring the dead back to life And undo things both good and bad My only option is to move forward Like an arrow from a bow, A bullet from a barrel or Like the spoken word that Cannot be taken back. People talk of Time travel I grin and keep my peace When I cannot travel back How can they? Advocateurs say I heal Yes, I heal, but I also kill As I pass, I transform infants into young And young into old, and old into the dead That’s the only way I know The old must yield place to the new That is the law of life I have no memory of my own Only people have a memory of me People ask me what is my age Physicists say I was born 14 billion years ago Though I can't recall my birth I am too old by earthly standards But do I have a death? I do not know If I’ve lived a long, long life There must be something in me That defies death Because the universe is there I am there If the universe ceases to exist, I will too I have no purpose of my own My purpose is linked to people’s purpose In life; You wonder where I live I exist in your active mind If you die, I exit I have no use for the dead The dead have no use of me The living waste me like Water running down the drain I am an entity that defies Definition I am a concept imagined By people who are industrious The lazy and the procrastinators Do not understand my value I am different things to different people I am Time. mbfarookh (C) Copyright 2024 Read More
Tags: freeverse time eternity infinity mbfarookh birth and death Philosophy
Posted Mar 04, 2024 | Poetry | 81 Views   

surreal

Poetry Form: Free Verse If it was a dream, it was like no other, soft, delicate, with silky feathers the angel beckoned me to an enchanting embr... Poetry Form: Free Verse If it was a dream, it was like no other, soft, delicate, with silky feathers the angel beckoned me to an enchanting embrace. I was tempted but couldn’t break the shackles of diamonds, gold, silver and all the precious stones put together. They were not just priceless, they were strung with a mystical, gossamer thread. I tried hard but the magical chains were overpowering, The angel came close I could feel the fragrance of heavenly musk her breath redolent with nectar and ambrosia. She bloomed like a lotus, face glowing like a sunflower, something I could never attribute to women of this world. My strength was of no match against the unworldly magic of the chains. Proximity of the angel and her intoxicating body scent was driving me, transporting me to a far-off land unlike any I had seen. My tired eyes gazed at the pink seas and blue sands, woods a pale carmine yellow, the birds of a colour rainbow danced in tune with the music created by the rhythmic frothy, cream-pink waterfall. The sky was of a deep crimson hue as if a gargantuan had been slayed and the tapestry above stained with ungrateful blood. It was both surreal and utterly believable at the same time. My legs were still in shackles, and I was resigned to the fate of an eternal prisoner. I thought of the angel who had come so close to me offering an embrace. What was her motive? Was she offering me the Kiss of death? Am I going to die, dying, or Am I already dead? Amidst the cacophony of the animals and birds, my auditory nerves were transporting faint signals of someone approaching. The sound of the steps muted by the soft sands, the dull sounds were from behind, I turned around. The angel was close, but this time there was no musky fragrance, only earthly smell. She touched, a bolt of lightning hit me and I blacked out. Not sure it was a dream, if I ever wake up I’ll find out. mbfarookh (C) Copyright 2024 Read More
Tags: Free verse Dream surreal

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