Tuesday, May 1, 2012

The Theatre of Dreams



Here, in the theatre of dreams, you proudly stand
With visions great and ambitions grand
Eager, of course, for the curtains to part
And for the play called Life to quickly start

You are nervous, of course, as you stand on the stage
Wondering whether your audience will truly engage
With the roles you play and the things you say
As the curtains rise each new day.

“Will they applaud?” you are bound to wonder
Or will they heckle should you blunder?
Will you be up to this theatrical task?
These questions, yourself, I am sure you ask.

It is only natural, for the theatre of dreams
Strains the fabric of fancy at its widest seams
As you strut and stride on the stage called Life
Playing diverse roles with the passions rife.

Of glorious entrances, I am sure you yearn
And of deserving exits once you’ve served your turn
Of standing ovations and the applause of praise
That accompany all of your dramatic ways.

And so, I wish you play your part; play it well
That the audience will have a tale to tell
Of your heroic deeds and characters fine
Of how you did, upon this stage, star and shine

Of how, in Seven Ages, you played many parts
And in doing so, stole your viewer’s hearts
With acts astonishing and speeches sublime
With crafty wit and touchingly tuneful rhyme.

So, do go ahead, go … do your best
Put every talent to its most strenuous test
Raise the bar with each new role
And play your part with both, heart and soul

For here, in the Theatre of Dreams, as fancy flies and ambitions roar
You go as high as your aspirations soar
And as the drama unfolds, you will attain and achieve
As long as you do, in your dreams, believe.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Words are all they have...


Words are all they have

The artist has got a brush, canvas, as well as a diverse range of colours and mediums with which to work and produce a piece worthy of marvel in Le Lourve.

The musician has got his sounds, vocal and instrumental, his sense of tone to create rhythms ad lib.

The photographer has lens and light, a fancy device to play with and thus manipulate a ‘thing of beauty’ into print forever.

And the writer, What of him? Where is his palette, how does his work with his instruments and what technology can he avail to creation a masterpiece, to create art that is as deserving of fame, history and memory as those of the artist, musician or photographer?

Alas, he possesses no such tangibles; only words and the amorphousness of imagination.

Yes, only a repository of words and the resourcefulness of a fertile imagination. And they are fuelled by a confident conviction of thought and a fervent desire to etch - with words – the many conundrums of life across age and space, beyond culture and geography, yet within the universal realm of a common, but diverse human experience.

And thus – with imagination and words, with thoughts and questions, the writer produces a work of art that offers us a diverse gamut of landscapes, a painting that captures the multidimensional canvas of our humanity and the sculptures of characters that have been etched in Literature for time immemorial.

And thus – with imagination and words, the writer chooses carefully, sometimes on instinct, sometimes with more careful thought, the words to use and the effect to create, how to arrange his choice of diction on the canvas of mere paper so that the words chosen and their manner of juxtaposition reveal the savageries of war or the debaucheries of youth, throw light on a soul searching for answers or a complex character immersed in thoughtful deliberations or simply prompt questions which propel the minds and the hearts of our humanity.

And thus – with a fertile imagination and choice diction, we are introduced to the staccato of suppressed anger, the pitch of exaggerated excitement, the majestic beat of ambition and the distinctive peals of liberty. Thus, with an imagination that transcends reality and an array of words concocted to question convention, the writer brings to the observant reader and the discerning mind the diverse rhythms that exist in the soulful music of our humanity.

And thus – with virile words and intellectual imagination, we are introduced to a snapshot in time, a colourful image of a landscape lost in history, a bleak picture of present circumstance, a slide of childlike joy or aging misery or an image that mirrors our own. And by doing so, by adjusting the lens of perception, considering the colour of emotion and capturing the essence of an occasion, the writer, with words being all he has, throws light on the vibrant mosaic of our humanity.

And thus – in the writer we have the artist and the musician, the sculptor and the photographer, the caricaturist and the cinematographer - the ultimate artist – the creator of character, the sculptor of emotion, the melodious lyricist, the lampooning humorist, the artist who directs people and places to walk across the territory of our mind and find a special place somewhere within its profound geography.  And, words are all they have…

Sunday, March 11, 2012

With My Thoughts



Alone with my thoughts, I wander
Sometimes aimlessly, at times, with purpose
Often, with thought leading on to thought
Or with action the consequence of mental amblings –

Alone with my thoughts, I wonder
At worlds unseen, the by-lanes of inexperience
Places unexplored, territories yet to be charted
And I amble on, a solitary face amidst a sea of people – 

Alone with my thoughts, I trot along
Studying the nuance in a fellow traveller’s countenance
Ruminating the possible reasons for his expressions
And I pause, hesitant; before I pursue further –

Alone with my thoughts, I cease
Trapped by the shifting tides of nostalgia
With its momentary ebbs and flow, peaks and troughs
And I counter the future, by reaching out for the past –

Alone with my thoughts, I venture
Into a landscape of future possibilities
Into the purposeful realms of ambitious hope
And I surge forward, driven by notions of success –

Alone with my thoughts, I meander
Into caves where monsters grasp and groan
At superstition, perdition, and uncertain horrors
And, I plunge, anxiously into an abyss of anguish –

Alone with my thoughts, I fly
Into and past the nebulous clouds of fancy
Creating worlds and characters, forging inventions
And, I saunter, confidently, into a future I’ve created –

Alone with my thoughts, I am the human itinerant
Probing the possibilities of my existence, and
Crafting my own chance and circumstance
As I wander on,…alone with my thoughts -