The Beautiful Creations
Dark clouds looming,
Heavy Rainfall,
Slipping into complete darkness,
Lost in the cold dark place,
Becoming invisible in the big crowd,
Hanging on tightly to your beautiful creations,
Bringing you out of the darkness,
Giving you strength to be the best,
Best in what you do.
An artwork by my little boy.
An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.
The Bench at New York
It was a day,
A day which defined my destiny,
A destiny I was waiting for,
And I saw a woman,
A white hair old woman,
Who sat on the bench at New York,
Such elegant looks,
And kind eyes,
But looking very sick.
Sitting next to her,
We started talking,
She was narrating her story,
Of her son,
Stories filled with love,
Talking about him when he was a small boy,
Ending with a helpless look,
But covering with words on how convenient,
And how easy it is to stay in the old age home.
Strangers and yet we shared,
Shared stories from our heart,
Connecting us,
Bonding us instantly,
And we parted with a smile,
A smile that stayed with me,
Months later I learnt about her passing,
And when I see the Bench at New York,
I still see her smiling face.
An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.
Sealed
Captured a beautiful thought,
With all the love,
And all the feelings,
Sealed with every strokes,
With every colors,
And more thoughts.
Draining out with every touch,
And it’s all out, captured and sealed,
In a painting.
An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.
Oh Awakened One,
I know nothing about you,
And yet you call me,
And I know not why,
But a strong call,
Calling me,
Again and again,
To give days,
Try a life without any electronics,
To be in silence,
Without any communication,
Away, far away,
I know not what you want to show,
But I hear you,
I know not when,
But I will come someday.
An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.
An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.
Sitting in a standstill traffic,
By the George Washington Parkway,
Watching the Washington monument,
Watching the lone flight in the sky,
Hits me with a pang to be home,
Take me home,
To watch my mother’s morning worship,
To watch my father walking around,
To listen to them fussing over silly matters,
To breathe the same air and see what you see,
To eat the same meal,
To be together,
Just to be with you and you,
Home is where you are,
Oh, how much I miss home,
Take me home.
An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.
Beautiful
When one encounters with the basics,
Beautiful music ringing in one’s ear,
Melting one’s hardened heart,
Discovering unconditional,
Discovering a whole different level of beautiful,
And nothing can take away this feeling,
The feeling away and above the materialistic world.
An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.
FINDINGTHEVOICES 