Sonnet (and 2 more lines)

The dark lady calls sometimes. A trivial summon, never ignored.

Mindless and cruel and crude and rude.

Primal calling, like carp to bait, tricked and gloried and cast aside.

Hating, hated, sweat in the sunlight.

Worshipping, thieving, innocence sought and lost.

Sent on a quest, like Quixano perhaps, but with the cunning, dumb greed of Sancho.

Seeking completion and fulfilment. Never found.

A mad pursuit, companionship given only to receive, despised and clutching.

Picking up speed in charge, colours flashing and false in blurry eyes, tears at the false sweetness of hope.

Purpose posted, always sought, never owned.

Desperate possession. To body, never the mind.

And having had, restless, itching and bored. To have more.

White as pearl. Bruises and curses, inhaled breath.

Falling slowly, feather through fog.

Reason forsaken and divine held. Short death and glorious bliss.

Hating, hated, tears in the moonlight.

________________________________________________

An attempt at something new – I hesitate to call it a poem. I haven’t read poems a lot and it’s not a medium that feels too natural to me. Some of it can probably be attributed to the one occasion I have been properly thrashed as a kid. I am kind of stubborn, and I had gotten into my head that a poetry recital wasn’t something I wanted to do. I ended up on the stage however and me being me, I did a silent recital for about 2 minutes, a very avant-garde performance, which was interrupted by a teacher hauling me off the stage. So that was it for me and poetry. Being a Bong, you don’t obviously succeed in avoiding it completely. I remember the hard-bound copy of Palgrave’s Golden Treasury (off-white and blue, which mom won in school and I now have my own copy, somewhere) and the thick Complete Shakespeare. I remember reading Kipling and Frost and Wordsworth and Coleridge, the school staples. There were the Hindi poets as well, Ramdhari Singh ‘Dinkar’, Shivmangal Singh ‘Suman’, Subhadra Kumari Chauhan and others – part of the CBSE curriculum. I have forgotten most, if not all of it – but seeing them written somewhere does bring back memories and a renewed appreciation of their art. And obviously, the great bearded one, Tagore, had the pride of place in any household.

Our education used to have a colonial overhang (don’t know if it still does) and I haven’t really read much poetry since leaving school. A bit of Dickinson, a dash of Whitman, a pinch of Eliot – these are American poets I have read a bit. I think they remain more accessible somehow. I have gasped at the vivid physicality of Neruda’s poems – the Latin American passion very evident even in translation (Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair) and realized that you can’t really read it without having been in love first.  Then there’s Frank O’Hara (autobiographical and isolated in a way) and ee cummings (spare, precise and eccentric, verily like his name), poets I do read sometimes. I haven’t really read world poetry and I know there is quite a lot to discover. There’s more to poetry, even in the quite literal works, that lets you develop meaning and ascribe emotions that doesn’t really happen in prose. Guess I like the simpler stuff most days.

______________________________________________________

We need to close out with songs. I kind of think of this portion as the end credits now.

1.      Mark Ronson ft. Boy George – Somebody to Love Me. Mark Ronson is a very good producer (albums with Adele, Amy Winehouse and Bruno Mars spring to mind) and his own work is quite good too. My love for synth-pop is well documented by now and this song is pretty much in my listening sweet spot. Putting up the tame video (the other one with Diane Kruger here).

2.     Pearl Jam – Yellow Ledbetter. A good old grunge rocker. They were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year. Chose this song because I always make up the lyrics (he just mumbles and growls through the song) and still play it all the time. And I absolutely love the idiosyncratic guitar plucking that happens towards the end (reminds me a bit of Hendrix). They don’t make music videos, so this is the best I could find.

_____________________________________________________

It used to be that it was difficult to be sure about the accuracy of events in the distant past. Now nobody knows whatever happened yesterday. Also the University Challenge final (46th series) is tonight.

Sonnet 129.