The Post-mortem report!

On August 9, 2016 I requested for a post-mortem report. The report was worth sharing and requested a post of its own and here it is.

Thanks to Colin (www.meandray.com) for providing the very interesting report. And the report is so good and it needed to see the limelight and here it is for you to dissect further.

The Subject:

I had a thought just a moment ago..
The moment passed and so did the thought..
The thought might return,
Would the moment return too?

But the thought was it the same?
Coz previously it was original,
Now it is mere repetition..

As moments keep flowing,
Thoughts too keep flowing..

Few are ground breaking..
Few just break the head..

Few just stay forever..
Few just disappear like a vapour..

Few eludes the words..
Few eludes from remembrance..

Few are intimate..
Few are despicable..

Few are reverent..
Few are guilty..

Few are forgotten..
Few are immortalised..

Few are stacked away deep within and taken to grave..
While few are publicised and taken for post-mortem..

So what is your post-mortem report of this thought?!

The Report and the discussion!

First report (Colin)

A post-mortem is final
It signifies death
It recaps what has been
And what can never be again
A post-mortem determines
Cause and effect
It simply defines …..
the hows, but never the whys.

Your thoughts are not in this group
For thoughts can be again
They may die, but then they may live
As long as you are alive
Your thoughts are simply dormant
Asleep until that time
When circumstances dictate an awakening
And your thoughts can live again

Perhaps you shared your thoughts
Perhaps that person will nurture them
They may then live a different life
Have slightly different results
And in the event of your passing
Their life is still assured

A post-mortem on your thoughts
Is therefore quite illogical
For they may not have to die
But should they fade with the memories of you
Then we will all be grief stricken
Such beautiful thoughts
Such expressions of awareness
Gone forever
Why?

Second Report (Aadhira)

Is the thought the same
After it transforms into words
And take some shape?
Don’t they attain a finality?
They do die as thought
And be born again as poetry,
action, prose, letter, inspiration
and much much more..

But definitely the thought
as mere thought has died..

And though the deaths are painful,
“After all, to the well-organized mind,
death is but the next great adventure.” (JKR)
So as my thoughts embark on to the next,
Let us not hesitate to post-mortem..

Yes, the post-mortems are about
Cause and Effect..
Let us ponder over
What caused the ripple..
Let us linger over
How far the ripple reaches..

And after all,
“Heard melodies are sweet,
but those unheard are sweeter” (John Keats)
So let us not grieve over lost sweetness,
But just prepare ourselves for more sweetness..

Third Report (Colin)

But if a thought dies
And resurrects in words
Was it really ever dead?
And if a mere thought could die
And caused more thoughts after resurrection
Then its soul surely lives on
Albeit in a different form

The next great adventure pre-supposes death
Which has not (here) been determined
So yes, let us ponder on the ripple
Let us linger over its reach
Let us determine its existence
But unlike a thought
The ripple does die
It is absorbed by its own medium

John Keates was right
That unheard sounds are the sweetest
Unheard sounds
Unspoken thoughts
Unseen ripples
Do they have much much in common?

Unheard sounds are limited by ones imagination
Unspoken thoughts are limited to the creator
Unseen ripples are never realized to their full potential
But let us not forget
This is about post-mortems
A post-mortem on an unheard sound is ludicrous
A post-mortem on an unspoken thought lacks imagination
A post-mortem on an unseen ripple simply cannot be.

The whole post-mortem discussion
Is a very subjective topic as you can no doubt see
With conflicting conditions being established
Quite simply by you…
… and by me!

Fourth Report (Aadhira)

The soul does live on dear..
But are we conducting
the post-mortem for the soul?

Unlike thought,
a ripple doesn’t die!
For the chaos theory states that
a flap of butterfly could cause whirlpools..
So imagine what all might happen
from a single ripple!

Just like a thought,
a Ripple is more powerful..
Yet neither the initial thought,
nor the initial ripple could ever
fathom the depth of its impact
nor the length of extension
it attains in the next form..

Those unheard / unspoken / unseen
are the privilege of the initiator
and are a secret to be guarded..
And it would be ridiculous for
expecting post-mortem on them..

When I talk, I express myself,
When I listen, I learn a new perspective..
What if there are just two views?
Still it is better than one right..

Fifth Report (Colin)

My friend, such differences we have
I believe ripples do in fact die
Even though their effect may live on
As for chaos theory?
Theory is all that it is, nothing more

When you talk, you do express yourself
But who are you?
A flower with complex scents
Will we ever know you?

When you listen, you learn new perspectives
But what are they?
A birth of new dreams perhaps
Will you ever tell us?

And as for just two views?
There really must be more
More than talking and listening
More than yours and mine

Does a mute man only listen?
Does a deaf man only talk?
Is the world simply you and I?

Perhaps an autopsy is necessary
For we all need to see
The infinite variables of life
In this wonderful world…
… that includes…
you and me!

Sixth Report (Aadhira)

Without experiencing Summer,
Rain couldn’t be appreciated better..
Still the beauty of Sun and Rain live on
complimenting each other in their own way..
Hence the differences bring out
the uniqueness and nurture the other..

When I talk, I express myself
as what I like you to know me as..
I might be the luring death
with the fragrance of rose
Or the majestic lotus amidst
the stinking mud..
So will I ever let you know..
Maybe, Maybe not..

When I listen, I learn new perspective..
But do I listen what is actually said,
Or do I listen what I want to hear?
Did I really understand your intent?
Or am I just babbling with words
that are spilled and set for dissection?

Will I ever acknowledge even to myself,
This is where a new dream was born?
Or am I that deep in vain,
To daresay that is my dream of ages?

There are indeed so many views,
just as there are many forms of dance..
When the dance of words are in such rhythm,
with its own tune and rhyme,
composed by and for the two,
others enjoy, absorb and cherish..
But would they dare to interfere?
Not, in the fear of messing the beat..

Who knows the colorful dreams of a blind?
Who hears the vocals of the mute?
Let us have little more compaasion
and spare those intellectually challenged..

There is so much wonder in here..
In this little world of you and me..
with open gates for anyone to enter
with no restraints so to leave at will..

So why be distracted by the visitors to come?
Let us explore the wonder and stage the play..
For the play lives on and someday….
Someone might enjoy the play
And even take part in it..

So, for now, the next act goes on
Just with the two of us..

Seventh Report (Colin)

You are right of course
What is black… without the white?
What is a smile… without a frown?
What is a right… without a wrong?
Differences allow us to appreciate
To see the contrasts

Differences give us choices
What to display and what to hide
What to embrace and…
What to push away.

It really is a wonderful world
Although some simply will not see
The clouds, the rainbows, the ripples in the pond
The birds, the flowers, the trees

Mother Nature, unlike us, has nothing desired to hide
She is open, for us all to see and love
Such beauty to behold
But again, some simply will not see
So let us encourage open eyes
For while they be distracting
We should share what we believe

We should share our conscious thoughts
And our appreciation of life
Perhaps it will stay just the two of us
But who knows…. perhaps another poet will call
Then we shall have more thoughts
Then we shall hear more sounds
Then we shall see more words
And then… our perspectives may change yet again!

Eight Report (Aadhira)

Despite the differences,
Black and white are untied as colors,
Smile and frown as emotion,
Right and wrong by moral..

While difference might accentuate beauty,
Being of same flock let’s in the recognition..

Choices are beautiful
Choices are confusing
Choices are conflicting

Beauty is in the eyes of beholder
You could force a person to open the eyes,
But never could push to enjoy the beauty..

Like the birth from the egg,
Let it break from inside..

While we wait for the birth,
Let us strengthen the nest,
Add little more color and cheer
For the young one to cherish and nourish..

And let us keep the hope intact..
’cause, when there is addition to the world,
We might get a new view..
Or be assured of our old ones..

---

We are still waiting for some new facts / thoughts so we could keep building this further.. Anyone?! 😉

Caught in a lightning!

Mr. Vinayak at Zero Creativity is the one behind the lens for this beautiful photograph as well as the one behind the process of coming up with these Photetry (Please don’t bother searching it yet.. I just came up with it by merging Photo and Poetry). He posts a simple and beautiful photograph as a prompt for six line verses. Then he adds those verses over his photograph and makes a flipbook!

Thanks for getting us published so easily and in a beautiful way! 🙂

Check out his previous published books and the other entries for this photograph here > https://zerocreativity0.wordpress.com/2016/07/21/lightning-photography/

She’s not you!

I am falling in love! With words and with collaborations! The first part was introduced to me as scribble and was advised to forget after reading.. But in line with breaking rules, these lines have travelled deeper and I couldn’t forget it that easily and inversely it has prompted me to add my scribble (which is the second part) to those lines.

An addon
to collaborate;
to cremate;
to celebrate;
to cherish!

Now you are presented the graffiti and you are welcome to add your two cents.. (We could use more than two cents.. So please be generous.. 😛 )

And before I could leave you to enjoy the poetry (and / or to prepare lengthy curses) I request your attention for few more seconds..

The inspiring-heart warming-touché-brilliant piece of poetry (of course, I am talking only about the first part) is penned down by the cool star, Mr. Karthik, the co-author of the blog “Powerful Overflow” Do contact him when in need of touch of liveliness to your life and you would get assured results! (You might watch out the comments section to know more about him.. 😉 But please do stalk him and share your views on his works! 🙂

---

She might love me..
More than you ever did.
And shelter my tattered soul
And feed it hope.

But..
Her eyes won’t glint
With the slightest of mischief,
To make me want to live more,
To breathe more.

Her laughter won’t resonate with me,
Like yours did.

Her fleeting glance
Won’t make me feel
The way my heart yearns to.

She won’t be imperfect
In the beautiful way you are.

Because..
She’s not you.
She can never be.

And,
When I say
I love her,
She will look into my eyes
And feel the void in my words.

And, she will know..
That the whole of my heart
Can never be hers.

Because
Beyond the closed doors are
The scribbles and graffiti
You left behind.

The remnants of a past
That you will remember
not for long.

So, go on..
Live your life
To the fullest,
As you’ve always done.

Meanwhile,
Let me pull up a chair
And grab a book.

The life is yours,
The graffiti, mine.

~~~~~~

And with that last line,
I have finished my graffiti
In her heart..

And now she could
Neither open up the graffiti
Just like me,
Nor let life hold her
In the infinite swirl
Of locking up the graffiti,
Just like me..

Hence, she broke open
My closed doors
By sheer persistence
And the faith in her heart and art..

When she broke in,
She tidied the mess of break up,
And started her art,
Which wrapped around
The whole graffiti..

Now my heart is open
For what lingers inside is
The brilliance of art of two hearts!

Yes, She’s not you!
But, she is mine!

The metamorphosis!

எத்தனை மரங்கள் வளர்ந்ததும்அது காடு?
எத்தனை தூரம் வீழ்ந்ததும் அது நீர்வீழ்ச்சி?
எத்தனை மணற்துகள் சேர்ந்ததும் அது பாலை?
எத்தனை பாறைகள் உயர்ந்ததும் அது குன்று?

எத்தனை பிதற்றலுக்கு பின் மறைந்தது மழலை?
எத்தனை தோல்விகளுக்கு பின் முதிர்ந்தது இளமை?
எத்தனை முத்தங்களுக்கு பின் கடந்தது காமம்?
எத்தனை நிராகரிப்புக்கு பின் பிறந்தது கருணை?

எத்தனை சண்டைகளுக்கு பின் தொலைந்தது பாசம்?
எத்தனை கால பிரிவுக்கு பின் மாய்ந்தது நட்பு?
எத்தனை தளர்தலுக்கு பின் தொடங்கியது முதுமை?
எத்தனை கண்ணீர் துளிகளுக்கு பின் தீரும் துயரம்?

எத்தனை பிழைகளை பொறுத்திடும் தாய்மை?
எத்தனை பொறாமைகளை கடந்திடும் காதல்?
எத்தனை தோல்விகளை துரத்திடின் விடாமுயற்சி?
எத்தனை புகழ்ச்சியில் விளைந்திடும் பிரபலம்?

After how many trees does it become a forest?
After how much height does it become a waterfall?
After how many sand grains does it become a desert?
After how many boulders does it become a hill?

After how many prattle does the infancy fade?
After how many failures does an youngster becomes adult?
After how many kisses does the lust get over?
After how many rejections does the kindness bloom?

After how many fights, did the affection fade?
After how long a gap, does the friendship die?
After how many faltering, does the old-age creep in?
After how many tear drops, does the sorrow stop?

After how many faults, the motherhood wanes?
After how much jealousy, does the love withstand?
After how many comebacks of failures, is that perseverance?
After how much praise, does one become famous?

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This poem is inspired from Kabilan Vairamuthu’s poetry given below. I’m still in wonder at the simple beauty of his lines. Hope you enjoy them too..

எத்தனை துளிகளைக் கடக்கும்போது தூறல் என்பது மழை?
எத்தனை பற்கள் முளைத்து வந்ததும் சத்தம் என்பது மொழி?
எத்தனை இதழ்கள் திறந்துகொண்டதும் மொட்டு என்பது மலர்?
எத்தனை உடல்கள் மண்ணில் சரிந்ததும் வன்முறை என்பது போர்?

எத்தனை துளிகளைக் கடக்கும்போது தூறல் என்பது மழை?
எத்தனை பற்கள் முளைத்து வந்ததும் சத்தம் என்பது மொழி?
எத்தனை இதழ்கள் திறந்துகொண்டதும் மொட்டு என்பது மலர்?
எத்தனை உடல்கள் மண்ணில் சரிந்ததும் வன்முறை என்பது போர்?

எத்தனை கீற்றுகள் பரவி நிறைந்ததும் பின்னிரவென்பது காலை?
எத்தனை அணுவில் நாணம் வந்ததும் நட்பு என்பது காதல்?
எத்தனை நரம்புகள் வீறுகொண்டதும் காரியம் என்பது இலட்சியம்?
எத்தனை இதயங்கள் நிமிர்ந்து நின்றதும் புலம்பல் என்பது புரட்சி?

After how many drops we encounter, drizzle is rain?
After how many teeth sprouts, sound is language?
After how many petals germinate, floret is flower?
After how many bodies fall on ground, violence is war?

After how many drops we encounter, drizzle is rain?
After how many teeth sprouts, sound is language?
After how many petals germinate, floret is flower?
After how many bodies fall on ground, violence is war?

After how many beams spread the sky, time past midnight is morning?
After how many atoms of timidity, friendship is love?
After how many nerves get valorous, action is mission?
After how many hearts rise and stand up, lamentation is revolution?

The song, translation and a video is available at Doopaadoo