Thursday, 16 August 2012


all sounds exist in this silence.

the kingfisher
into the pond
the wind swishing
the rain rushing
the feet
pounding the path home
the breath pausing
for breath
and the bell and the bleating
of the goat, the cawing of the crows...



My Thoughts and I said...

And I can just picture it all....just as you've described it...beautiful!
Wordsworth thou art, Mr Venugopal!

P. Venugopal said...

no wordsworth, i am, dear friend! he used to speak about his version of poetry "recollected in tranquility." i am speaking about poetry as it happens, not recollected. recollecting is always from the dead. recollecting is dead poetry, it is not poetry. only the live thing is poetry!

(cheeky, you may think. but that is a fact.)

My Thoughts and I said...

Actually Mr Venugopal, when I compared you with Wordsworth I was appreciating your gift to paint such beautiful pictures with your words, just like him! Like I said, I could picture it all; almost like I was there physically!
One has only to read Wordsworth's Daffodils to appreciate the comparison!

"Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:"

As 'alive' as your poem despite being a recollection!


P. Venugopal said...

i was only joking, MTAI! wish one could write like Wordsworth, or, when one wants to take a hard look at life, like T.S. Eliot!

Kalpana said...


Its been long i have been active on my blog. read your post after a long time. A nice picturesque presentation. As usual!

You rightly pointed, poetry is of the living things it is about seeing.

P. Venugopal said...

me too not so active on the blog nowadays, kalpanaji. active elsewhere!