tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686Thu, 02 Feb 2012 10:30:53 +0000There has to be a place where I can stash things that I like, that I would like to keep or share. Without logic or reason, a flowing ream of collectibles, be it self-scribbles or works blatantly borrowed. Thoughts, verse, sights, sounds, each to be whimsically vibrant, eclectic, joyously effervescent, introspective, scathingly incisive, or deeply nostalgic, but always moving. This is to be it.http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/noreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)Blogger120125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-7234933556576367216Thu, 02 Feb 2012 10:30:00 +00002012-02-02T16:00:53.933+05:30 Image source herehttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/nXB7MGdVPG4/into-infinite-space.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/02/into-infinite-space.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-5945438942045644956Thu, 02 Feb 2012 03:59:00 +00002012-02-02T09:33:26.346+05:30 I had heard him say this out loud to me every time I asked him to tell me a poem. Back then, a child, I understood little what it meant. The one thing I never forget was his diction and intonation, as he narrated this with great emotion, stressing on 'O Captain! My Captain!' I wondered over the years as to what could have made an ailing man of 75 narrate something like this to his grandchild. http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/qU7jXNMwjRw/o-captain-my-captain.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/02/o-captain-my-captain.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-6456715951806413157Mon, 23 Jan 2012 14:45:00 +00002012-01-23T20:15:04.082+05:30  “I beg the reader not to go in search of messages. It is a term that I detest because it distresses me greatly, for it forces on me clothes that are not mine, which in fact belong to a human type that I distrust; the prophet, the soothsayer, the seer. I am none of these; I’m a normal man with a good memory who fell into a maelstrom and got out of it more by luck than by virtue, and who http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/pLZ7utsJrjc/primo-levi.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/01/primo-levi.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-7958030145044798275Mon, 23 Jan 2012 08:14:00 +00002012-01-23T13:53:55.905+05:30“What kind of idea are you? Are you the kind that compromises, does deals, accommodates itself to society, aims to find a niche, to survive; or are you the cussed, bloody-minded, ramrod-backed type of damnfool notion that would rather break than sway with the breeze? — The kind that will almost certainly, ninety-nine times out of hundred, be smashed to bits; but, the hundredth time, will http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/I2cXB6zow4A/reminder.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/01/reminder.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-7736824202878030844Tue, 17 Jan 2012 08:25:00 +00002012-01-17T13:55:25.704+05:30To My Friends Primo Levi Dear friends, and here I say friends the broad sense of the word: Wife, sister, associates, relatives, Schoolmates of both sexes, People seen only once Or frequented all my life; Provided that between us, for at least a moment, A line has been stretched, A well-defined bond. I speak for you, companions of a crowded Road, not without its difficulties, And for you too, whohttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/z15UFJbujLU/levi-and-borges.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)1http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/01/levi-and-borges.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-2352654208070351004Fri, 23 Dec 2011 04:14:00 +00002011-12-23T09:44:12.975+05:30 ... and I call upon some old friends who always made me feel right! Wishing you a very Merry Christmas! http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/NvKpSMPcHb8/happy-holidays-merry-christmas.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/12/happy-holidays-merry-christmas.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-1558920113784306601Fri, 16 Dec 2011 04:40:00 +00002011-12-16T10:12:22.197+05:30Roots Like a poem around a tree Like a freedom flag unfurled A homeless refugee I have travelled round the world I remember slanted mountains with dusted white peaks ivory snow and emerald green trees. I remember the tickle going up my spine when birds settled on my branches. The soft footfall of a passing fox. I remember the sweet smell of pine-scented smoke wafting from chocolate log cabins.http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/xjGf-Lkx8jY/3-from-roger-mcgough.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/12/3-from-roger-mcgough.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-5089073201542727498Sat, 03 Dec 2011 06:20:00 +00002011-12-03T11:54:29.675+05:30Here's the music... And here are the lyrics... I walk in stride with people much taller than me and partly it's the boots but mostly it's my chi and I'm becoming transfixed with nature and my part in it which I believe just signifies I'm finally waking up and there's this moth outside my kitchen door she's bonkers for that bare bulb flying round in circles bashing in her exoskull and out in thehttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/nDoG8NKjzu0/m.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/11/m.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-6586437936377778942Thu, 17 Nov 2011 06:02:00 +00002011-11-17T11:32:45.050+05:30Il y a ni portes ni fenêtres pour aller où c’est toujours parfait. Celui qui est né là-bas, vit éternellement jusqu'à la fin du monde. Penned Nov 17, 2011. Image source here http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/MMQvcY8Qe_U/immortel.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/11/immortel.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-9063535088611516598Tue, 15 Nov 2011 06:06:00 +00002011-11-15T11:37:24.218+05:30 "To live a dispassionate and cultured life in the open air of ideas, reading, dreaming and thinking of writing--a life so slow it constantly verges on tedium, but pondered enough never to find itself there. To live this life far from emotions and thought, living it only in the thought of emotions and in the emotion of thoughts. To goldenly stagnate in the sun, like a murky pond surrounded http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/G9itu_CkiQc/serendipity.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/11/serendipity.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-1547430783994995732Fri, 04 Nov 2011 07:12:00 +00002011-11-04T12:42:22.737+05:30   Source here http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/pA7mWLiEUX4/source-here.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/11/source-here.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-2363849584271872039Wed, 21 Sep 2011 04:26:00 +00002011-09-21T09:56:33.238+05:30God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night. These are the words we dimly hear: You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. Flare up like flame and make big shadows I can move in. Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don’t let yourself lose me. Nearby is the country http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/Z_ybEDcNWz0/god-speaks-rainer-maria-rilke.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/09/god-speaks-rainer-maria-rilke.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-4193353959792390545Thu, 21 Jul 2011 20:37:00 +00002011-07-22T02:16:37.552+05:30There are those who live by the map. And drive by it. Those who are humble. And uncertain. Some with the half-life of an elephant's memory. Some who choose to live there. For some, every milestone is a trigger. An echo their sound bird, their word carrier across chasms. Of space and time. To some, this life holds no enticement. To some, the only fear of loss, is death. Some wait for forests to http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/YzRgjShCT5E/what-this-is-not-about-or-is-it.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-this-is-not-about-or-is-it.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-1185893740160053800Wed, 01 Jun 2011 14:44:00 +00002011-06-01T20:16:18.989+05:30Pulitzer Prize winning poet, C.K. Williams, gives his advice for a poet starting out.I’ll begin by promising that there’ll be times in your life as a poet when the problems that are a part of trying to live that life will make the whole undertaking seem a terrible mistake, and you’ll find yourself thinking there must be something else to do that might better reward your labor.  And indeed some http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/1GwRaNBal1U/letter-to-young-poet-ck-williams.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/06/letter-to-young-poet-ck-williams.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-5951667221130378917Sun, 22 May 2011 07:17:00 +00002011-05-22T12:47:47.915+05:30 Try them! I started with the bitters today. The gnarly, near unpalatable, dreaded green of the bitter gourd or the ‘ucche’. It’s an acquired taste, the bitters. I always wondered why Bengali meals began with it. Living in Delhi’s heart of Bengali-land, Chitaranjan Park for over three months now, I have had my fill of butter chicken, paneer and butter laden ‘aloo parathas’. Of course, I did http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/lVB8X_kRGZQ/starting-with-bitters-ending-with-sweet.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/05/starting-with-bitters-ending-with-sweet.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-4672260310181292517Thu, 05 May 2011 21:53:00 +00002011-05-06T03:24:25.384+05:30I have said everything.I have written down everythingYou’d like to have ever known. About anything. Or everything. I have written it on butter paper.Strung it across a shell of twigsSet it alightAnd let it afloatInto the night sky.How you read it nowIs to your devices. And to noneOf mine.  (Penned May 6, 2011) http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/Gj3NkKTgo1w/bien-fait.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/05/bien-fait.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-5932019196784005961Sun, 17 Apr 2011 05:59:00 +00002011-04-17T11:36:22.510+05:30...uccho jetha sheer. Gyan jetha mukto, jetha griher prachir... Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high; Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls; Where words come out from the depth of truth; Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection; Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/0NsNZVn1SpE/chittoh-jetha-bhoy-shunno.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/04/chittoh-jetha-bhoy-shunno.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-5793337664493552885Tue, 12 Apr 2011 10:17:00 +00002011-04-12T15:58:23.361+05:30Stoicism (Greek Στοά) was a school of Hellenistic philosophy founded in Athens by Zeno of Citium in the early 3rd century BC. The Stoics considered destructive emotions to be the result of errors in judgment, and that a sage, or person of "moral and intellectual perfection," would not suffer such emotions.[1] Stoics were concerned with the active relationship between cosmic determinism and human http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/B71332VZYXM/minute-for-basics.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/04/minute-for-basics.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-2049417222717131280Fri, 08 Apr 2011 15:59:00 +00002011-04-08T21:41:09.289+05:30Beaded curtains.Glimmery. Shiny. Bright. A little wild. Untethered.They jangle. They catch the light.They tug at you. Declawed crabs.They tangle you up. They make a lot of noise. They never stick. They’re not really curtains.They’re not What they’re meant to be.Quite a nuisanceSuch things are.  (Penned April 8, 2011)   http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/_WmMWFXy3zc/home-improvement.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/04/home-improvement.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-5027745553654164668Thu, 07 Apr 2011 19:53:00 +00002011-04-08T01:47:24.570+05:30 It is happening again. Every time I break a snooze regime that never existed, I suffer this very same wakefulness. It’s not easy being an insomniac. Not even for a sorry-excuse-for-a-partly-reformed-one either. It was many years ago when I heard a little story. Well actually, it was quite an elaborate, well etched story. It was like almost a moving picture, in http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/6e8B2UIqiBM/only-babble.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/04/only-babble.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-7801638049448917241Thu, 07 Apr 2011 16:20:00 +00002011-04-07T21:50:19.970+05:30Kant says, transcendental    idealism. In Aquinas, we exist apart from bodies    but only on Thursdays when his famous ox     flies by the window wiser at Cologne    where Albertus Magnus, his real name, appoints    Aquinas to magister studentium, master of students. Aquinas    is petrified but says yes. He feels his soul     sailing out of his head floating near the roof    where a http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/3Z7g20u8q1o/theories-of-soul-karen-hwei-lee.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/04/theories-of-soul-karen-hwei-lee.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-4040329645696279133Thu, 07 Apr 2011 16:15:00 +00002011-04-07T21:56:00.149+05:30 It is fashionablethis derision we entertain.Rising tidesneed no invitation.Those seven bonescan only extend so much.So learnthe impervious.The ways of the whirledbobbing planesthe physics of inertiathe harmonicsof everythingto findto restto cut throughto the centreof everything. (Penned April 7, 2011) http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/-wTtvByElSs/in-quiet.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/04/in-quiet.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-459683790265643357Wed, 16 Mar 2011 12:56:00 +00002011-03-16T18:26:11.103+05:30"In this mortal frame of mine which is made of a hundred bones and nine orifices there is something, and this something is called a wind-swept spirit for lack of a better name, for it is much like a thin drapery that is torn and swept away at the slightest stir of the wind. This something in me took to writing poetry years ago, merely to amuse itself at first, but finally making it its http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/13PPUGmCJss/basho.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/03/basho.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-554999917879086424Fri, 11 Mar 2011 18:19:00 +00002011-03-11T23:53:12.988+05:30 The concern is ample.The light lingering touchof fleeting feathers. The words are kind.They drift from wherethe lungs are longing. The glances are glowing.Tender embers, the promiseof distant warmth. The questions are sated.As much easeas intent. It registers.Shallow watersonly yield so much. It takes another maketo grate nails to gravelto bleed soil to life. http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ColourConfetti/~3/7ugyGdIiV0s/measure-for-measure.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Interlunar)0http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2011/03/measure-for-measure.html