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December, Your Name.


Normally I don't write the explanation for my poems, simply for the reason, that poems should be enjoyed and interpreted by the readers themselves in their own mould and words. Its just words for that matter, and occasionally, and only in some moments does those words bring true meanings. And in some magical moments, those meanings reflect the true expression that I was trying to convey. Due to extreme laziness, a serious attention deficit disorder, and also the rush to reach the gates of heaven fast (ok, the rush to publish this...somehows hitting the 'Publish' button excites me), I don't really edit the poems. I do general spell check, and sometimes a few words just escape. The second stage of any poem writing, is to rearrange, or reformat the whole thing. Some say this is the creative part. But I reason, why do we need to give final touches for something so sporadic. Random thoughts should be conveyed as it is. So you get poems by GP that you seldom understand. By the way, I've reached my 50 poem mark a few poems ago, and somehow I still feel, I haven't wrote my magnum opus. Again, it's the writers freedom to decide if his poems should be free flowing formless masterpieces, or the severely constricted, pentameter restricted, retro rubbish.

Ok, back to the December poem, a few posts ago, I was reading some other bloggers posts (it does rhymes sometimes), and found them to be madly in love with December. So what is so magical about December. I've spend 26 Decembers in this world and this is my 27th. The most recent December 'event' that I remember of is last years Tsunami. So, does December marks the end of all things bad and then comes January with all things good. Unless you have a bad hangover of all the parties ( and if you're me, of all those staying home watching TV) then the statement is true. December is the end. Calvin and Hobbes ended in December 1995. What am I blaberring you might ask. I don't know either. I just wanted to write a poem of December. Let's just say, this post before the poem is a Mad mans ramblings to the world because he's hungry, it's raining out there, the uni's on holiday so no restaurants are open, and he got nearly locked in the library moments ago. Enough of all this, I cant write good stuff, the stuff like those travel writers (who some I think never even go to the places they write of), or the stuff in those most frequented blogs, those warm flashbacks, when they had their puppy dogs and ice cream fairs. Of those first kisses and tree climbing. I might write all this one day, but not today.

So here goes, the poem is of December, the month. 3 things that remind me of December is, the December Monsoon which is real, the girl named December, whom is fictional, and also my December Fireflies poem published last December and made into a superhit song by Daymoon. And so, I dedicate this poem to all men and women who preach of this sinister December romantisizing cult's teachings. As if I don't have enough enemies. Amour!


****** a poetic origin ******


December, Your Name

Wanting and never letting go,
Sometimes warming the world around,
Waiting and never to forget,
Of this cascading December thoughts.

Just as bright, the tiny sparks,
Scattered around terrestrial, amazingly,
Just that ones that flashes,
Floating parallel to your eyes.

December monsoon liberated from the sky,
Floating in quantum moments, in symmetry,
The first few invasions, painfully cold,
Then the wet soul, feels the warmth.

Monsoon showers the green, to grey,
Tender hearts, sourcing silent warmth,
Sometimes the feeling announces,
The welcoming of the stranger soul.

Arranging a wooden window, open,
Inside in distance, our time,
Outside a land, boundaries perfected,
The rain, the blue droplets, stole December.

Giant trees stand proud, ageless,
Against the monsoon, and the high clouds,
Wanderers noticing the lower leaves and branches,
Held warm and dry, by invisible umbrellas.

When I held you, in touch and love,
Along the bastions of moments, ours,
When you questioned, our loneliness,
Answered the rain, such songs are rare.

Should the thought be enough, with you,
Such of us together with her,
December, resting her head on my shoulders,
Called us talking until the endless end.

The Northern winds, crossing in fear,
Occasionally blowing a few crystal droplets,
Those invading droplets, cooling the classic day,
This monsoon December, remembered.

So I described of you, the month December,
When I enjoy the December Monsoon,
And wrote of the girl named December,
When the circle ends, there flourishes life.

-gP2005-07/12/05-

Comments

Kerry said…
omg! *wipes away many tears* i so enjoyed reading that poem! thank you!
Nahuatl said…
Wooooooooooowwwwww!!!

{Sniff} ... {speechless} ....
Demi Goddezz said…
Touching... December always:)
a sweet poem.

i don`t know why i like december, but i just do.
Ghost Particle said…
[Kerry] U did! Wow, thats cool, THANX!...you would like all my poems then. Check out my previous posts to find my poems.---> got 50 of them here...

[Nayan] Thanx buddy!

[DemiGodezz] Decembery Always...maybe I should start to like decembers...

[Still] Thanx Still, December...means alot to alot of ppl...
Jeevan said…
December is a very pain month for Tsunami affected countries, including India. Nice Poem, i can understand the poem.
Joaninha said…
Nice Poem! I always think December. It reminds me a lot of things.
Thanks for reading my writing. I’ll try to translate it(into a bad English) for you. I always write about sad love, because when we are old, we only remember the whole suffering of our lives …

I got near the balcony and looked at the horizon
I lost my sight all over the Lezíria…
Afterwards I closed my eyes and heave a sigh…
A deep sigh! It was your name I was repeating…

Every of my dreams went through my eyes.
Dreams that I wondered and wanted so much…
I could remember the only kiss I gave you…
And now, you are under that cold grave…

As much as suffer by this missing,
This regard, more loose from the reality…
Of seeing what they aren’t being able to see anywhere…

As much as I regard to your eyes,
More deep and sweet is my love…
But I became sadder and sadder, because you aren’t my dear…
Ghost Particle said…
[Jeevan] True, for years to come December will always be remembered for that tragedy.

[Joan] WOW! Thanx for the translations. Its a dark poem. I love to write in such way too, because for most of the times, tragedy and suffering and lost loves brings the extreme emotions to front. Thanx again!

[Visi] Thanx ma!

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for, its during the rainy seasons
when we sit admiring
the cool breeze and wandering droplets
we realize we are admiring the beauty of loneliness
from afar, of you and me

[feast]