<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717</id><updated>2024-08-29T01:59:34.490+05:30</updated><category term="Confessions"/><category term="Views"/><category term="Dreams"/><category term="Observations"/><category term="poems"/><title type='text'>Facts of the Matter and the Subconscious.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-969581734180773246</id><published>2014-01-31T11:56:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2014-01-31T12:24:25.727+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Vengeance.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 16px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Poor You!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Don&#39;t loose your sleep over her;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;She hasn&#39;t lost her mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;... just yet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Nor will She spends sleepless nights&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;For nothing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;What&#39;s the use of mourning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;her seemingly restless soul-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;For she is at peace with The Self;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;She does what She does&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Not for anyone- least you;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;but for a bigger cause-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Insignificant to the rest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;For when they all wake up,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;They&#39;d realize,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;She was just being&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Constructively Vengeful!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/969581734180773246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2014/01/vengeance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/969581734180773246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/969581734180773246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2014/01/vengeance.html' title='Vengeance.'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-4541265140380900965</id><published>2013-03-22T01:08:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2014-04-24T21:54:51.251+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A fairy tale</title><content type='html'>To some world, an embodiment of strength&lt;br /&gt;
to another, arrogance.&lt;br /&gt;
No one knows my story,&lt;br /&gt;
the wounds or scars, I carry.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t speak of myself;&lt;br /&gt;
or what hurdles, curves and bends&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;ve been through&lt;br /&gt;
Because life is a journey and I&#39;m yet to reach the end.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I however can&#39;t escape&lt;br /&gt;
the fact that I&#39;m talked about;&lt;br /&gt;
Thus, the scrutiny of the ways of my life.&lt;br /&gt;
Oh! My small world.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The word then makes its rounds&lt;br /&gt;
Of the barriers overcame, and the perceived contributions;&lt;br /&gt;
Small acts of kindness, I believe-&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;It&#39;s a fairy tale&quot; is the comment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d never play victim,&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t like being one.&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d rather die fighting for what&#39;s mine&lt;br /&gt;
By merit not con.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t believe in taking hostage,&lt;br /&gt;
My sweet revenge,&lt;br /&gt;
lies in the success I don&#39;t talk about;&lt;br /&gt;
And you are too blind to see!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/4541265140380900965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2013/03/a-fairy-tale.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/4541265140380900965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/4541265140380900965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2013/03/a-fairy-tale.html' title='A fairy tale'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-8278298611363604644</id><published>2013-03-22T00:24:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2013-03-22T01:55:05.977+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Dated, 31-7-99.</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
Opening a book,&lt;br /&gt;
Looking for something...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I happen to stumble upon&lt;br /&gt;
a letter... from my father.&lt;br /&gt;
Dated, 31-7-99.&lt;br /&gt;
Now it&#39;s 2013&lt;br /&gt;
more than a decade had passed&lt;br /&gt;
I thought...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then I sat down to read it,&lt;br /&gt;
word by word, line by line&lt;br /&gt;
As if rewinding&lt;br /&gt;
the hands of time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Pa, the feelings you felt then,&lt;br /&gt;
Are frozen right in front of me&lt;br /&gt;
How do I care if things have changed?&lt;br /&gt;
I love it that I know&lt;br /&gt;
What they once had been.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/8278298611363604644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2013/03/a-letter-dated-31-7-99.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/8278298611363604644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/8278298611363604644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2013/03/a-letter-dated-31-7-99.html' title='Dated, 31-7-99.'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-7945904434662719812</id><published>2011-11-07T16:27:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-29T00:53:19.199+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Melancholy and The Senses</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;I&#39;d give anything&lt;br /&gt;
Just anything&lt;br /&gt;
For the sea of green hills&lt;br /&gt;
that stretches as far as the eye could reach &lt;br /&gt;
And the cotton candied clouds&lt;br /&gt;
swimming over my head&lt;br /&gt;
in the bright blue sky above&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d give anything&lt;br /&gt;
Just anything&lt;br /&gt;
For the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;
that seems to emerge from my garden&lt;br /&gt;
after the rain&lt;br /&gt;
And the bright yellow sunset&lt;br /&gt;
which quietly goes but to return the next evening.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d give anything&lt;br /&gt;
Just anything&lt;br /&gt;
For the rain that falls&lt;br /&gt;
on the tin roofs&lt;br /&gt;
for the musical extravaganza&lt;br /&gt;
And the wind that blows softly&lt;br /&gt;
to tell me I&#39;m alright.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d give anything&lt;br /&gt;
Just anything&lt;br /&gt;
For the sweet smell of pine&lt;br /&gt;
in the shadow of which as a child I used to play&lt;br /&gt;
And the whiff of fermented fish or soyabean&lt;br /&gt;
being prepared as I pass by the lanes&lt;br /&gt;
I so am at home.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d give anything&lt;br /&gt;
Just anything&lt;br /&gt;
For the sweet and sour fruits&lt;br /&gt;
that herald the change&lt;br /&gt;
of every season&lt;br /&gt;
And the taste I have acquired&lt;br /&gt;
for the beautifully bland assortment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d give anything&lt;br /&gt;
Just anything&lt;br /&gt;
For the humility and calm I feel&lt;br /&gt;
To the touch of my father&#39;s wrinkled skin&lt;br /&gt;
And the sense of achievement I see&lt;br /&gt;
in my parents&#39; eyes&lt;br /&gt;
Every time I return.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d give anything&lt;br /&gt;
Just anything&lt;br /&gt;
For the love that&#39;s expressed&lt;br /&gt;
not through words,&lt;br /&gt;
but deeds&lt;br /&gt;
Of the bright faces that glow&lt;br /&gt;
for the most part that I&#39;m not around&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d give anything&lt;br /&gt;
Just anything&lt;br /&gt;
For the long winding roads that take me to places&lt;br /&gt;
where I am most happy&lt;br /&gt;
just to have been spotted.&lt;br /&gt;
And thus, the melancholy of it all&lt;br /&gt;
Keeps me close to my home.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/7945904434662719812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/11/melancholy-and-senses.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/7945904434662719812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/7945904434662719812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/11/melancholy-and-senses.html' title='Melancholy and The Senses'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-4865745163527821246</id><published>2011-10-21T23:38:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-29T00:14:14.683+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Confessions"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Observations"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Views"/><title type='text'>Vultures</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;The picnic is over&lt;br /&gt;
What&#39;s left they&#39;ve already packed,&lt;br /&gt;
Cleared and covered&lt;br /&gt;
Now&#39;s the time for vultures...&lt;br /&gt;
Vultures of a different kind.&lt;br /&gt;
They&#39;ll swoop from up down under&lt;br /&gt;
They&#39;ll try the pieces to recover&lt;br /&gt;
To reconstruct&lt;br /&gt;
The meal that was served earlier&lt;br /&gt;
If only they could find just a bite...&lt;br /&gt;
Just the one bite, that&#39;s all they look for&lt;br /&gt;
Vultures of a different kind.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/4865745163527821246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/10/vultures-of-different-kind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/4865745163527821246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/4865745163527821246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/10/vultures-of-different-kind.html' title='Vultures'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-4044754081957168945</id><published>2011-10-20T18:13:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-20T21:52:14.871+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Views"/><title type='text'>Do you feel Alienated?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
We were asked politely&lt;br /&gt;
Or otherwise all the time,&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Do you feel you are being alienated?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
If we feel we were, even if&lt;br /&gt;
For the slightest bit that you&#39;ve thought of,&lt;br /&gt;
Weren&#39;t you supposed to be knowing it already?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We&#39;ve lived all along together till now &lt;br /&gt;
Knowingly and aware of a fact,&lt;br /&gt;
That if it is such a hard thing to be accepted and not be &quot;the other&quot;,&lt;br /&gt;
Why create more hassle than what already had been?&lt;br /&gt;
We&#39;d mind our own business and do things our way,&lt;br /&gt;
We are open to do business, you&#39;d just have to say.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In order not to offend or make much of a noise&lt;br /&gt;
We decided to carry on living as per our choice&lt;br /&gt;
We have even shared our soul food&lt;br /&gt;
With those who readily accepted us&lt;br /&gt;
In the very odd of places,&lt;br /&gt;
You would not dare imagine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For those who accepted us freely and willingly&lt;br /&gt;
They&#39;d never, for sure,&lt;br /&gt;
Feel the urge to ask such questions&lt;br /&gt;
For they know for a fact&lt;br /&gt;
That it&#39;s not without a reason&lt;br /&gt;
Why &quot;They&quot; can&#39;t be &quot;We&quot; if only, one is open.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And now you come forward&lt;br /&gt;
To ask: If we feel alienated ...&lt;br /&gt;
Why not, in the first place? &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Introspect&quot;! Look into yourself and ask&lt;br /&gt;
Have we tried to come out and accept them anyway?&lt;br /&gt;
The answer lies there!. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/4044754081957168945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/10/do-you-feel-alienated.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/4044754081957168945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/4044754081957168945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/10/do-you-feel-alienated.html' title='Do you feel Alienated?'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-592407481450000494</id><published>2011-09-13T15:57:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-13T15:57:29.269+05:30</updated><title type='text'>We never said good bye my friend.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;We never said goodbye my friend,&lt;br /&gt;
You and I.&lt;br /&gt;
You left me behind in this life,&lt;br /&gt;
Having to deal with it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You left behind a sea of friends&lt;br /&gt;
Who love and admire you,&lt;br /&gt;
Not to forget your family&lt;br /&gt;
Whose life surely is hollow without you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You would have turned older my friend,&lt;br /&gt;
Like all of us should;&lt;br /&gt;
But you wouldn&#39;t have to&amp;nbsp;my friend&lt;br /&gt;
Because we never said good bye,&lt;br /&gt;
You and I.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/592407481450000494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/09/we-never-said-good-bye-my-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/592407481450000494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/592407481450000494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/09/we-never-said-good-bye-my-friend.html' title='We never said good bye my friend.'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-136933519278683733</id><published>2011-05-16T21:22:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-16T21:24:14.370+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Observations"/><title type='text'>Why Look for a Connection?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;Are we that insecure?&lt;br /&gt;
Do we really think the world recognizes us,&lt;br /&gt;
Through those that have long gone from us;&lt;br /&gt;
Not knowing how to care about us&lt;br /&gt;
Because,&lt;br /&gt;
We never have crossed their minds?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What thoughts do they spare about us?&lt;br /&gt;
Also, why should they care?&lt;br /&gt;
They live in the present,&lt;br /&gt;
Why should we resent?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Can&#39;t we be proud of who we are?&lt;br /&gt;
What we could achieve within our reach, not far.&lt;br /&gt;
Living in the present, not in the past&lt;br /&gt;
There are more mortals far deserving&lt;br /&gt;
The Harping&lt;br /&gt;
Than those we can&#39;t see, but admire.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If we could just open our eyes now, &lt;br /&gt;
And see that none of that telling matters.&lt;br /&gt;
Ho!&lt;br /&gt;
We would be judged by none other,&lt;br /&gt;
But the ones we think&lt;br /&gt;
Less matter.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Wake up!&lt;br /&gt;
The world doesn&#39;t want to know&lt;br /&gt;
How or why&lt;br /&gt;
A lost link, &lt;br /&gt;
Could to a country bring,&lt;br /&gt;
So much of an importance.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tell me! ... Are we that spineless and inferior,&lt;br /&gt;
That we&#39;d always have to look for&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;A connection&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
To prove that we matter?&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/136933519278683733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/05/why-look-for-connection.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/136933519278683733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/136933519278683733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/05/why-look-for-connection.html' title='Why Look for a Connection?'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-5599617086298056290</id><published>2011-05-10T14:49:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-16T21:25:09.933+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Views"/><title type='text'>Fire</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;Why on earth do we think,&lt;br /&gt;
Fire always burns?&lt;br /&gt;
Is this what inhibits &lt;br /&gt;
Our mortal fear,&lt;br /&gt;
Or just &lt;br /&gt;
Something we were told?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Have we even for a second &lt;br /&gt;
Stop to think about-&lt;br /&gt;
A life without it?&lt;br /&gt;
Would we be living the same&lt;br /&gt;
Life of comfort, life with ease,&lt;br /&gt;
Had it not been for &quot;Fire&quot;?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Have we ever considered&lt;br /&gt;
The other untold side&lt;br /&gt;
Of how gentle and kind,&lt;br /&gt;
Ever caring and giving,&lt;br /&gt;
Fire, amongst all&lt;br /&gt;
As a source could be?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Come to think,&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s just fair for It be a source&lt;br /&gt;
That inspires metaphors- &lt;br /&gt;
Of love, passion, anger, pain and angst&lt;br /&gt;
For it sure would Burn,&lt;br /&gt;
If not handled carefully.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/5599617086298056290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/05/fire.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/5599617086298056290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/5599617086298056290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/05/fire.html' title='Fire'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-6062169498718147422</id><published>2011-04-26T10:48:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-28T12:50:36.846+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Confessions"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poems"/><title type='text'>It&#39;s about time</title><content type='html'>It&#39;s about time &lt;br /&gt;
We have faith&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s about time&lt;br /&gt;
We talk about faith&lt;br /&gt;
I was once asked, &lt;br /&gt;
What do you believe in?&lt;br /&gt;
HOPE or FAITH?&lt;br /&gt;
My answer, with a reason...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hope, I don&#39;t.&lt;br /&gt;
It only makes me appear weak&lt;br /&gt;
Faith, believe i do&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s the one thing that makes me&lt;br /&gt;
strong,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
To fight for what I believe in&lt;br /&gt;
To visualize things differently&lt;br /&gt;
To grow as long as I shall live&lt;br /&gt;
To revert the impossibilities&lt;br /&gt;
To accept what others call &quot;Change&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For with it,&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t stop and wait for things to happen&lt;br /&gt;
I strive towards making them happen&lt;br /&gt;
the way I wanted them to.&lt;br /&gt;
That one fine day &lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d look back and say...&lt;br /&gt;
Faith! you see?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t hope things happen&lt;br /&gt;
I have faith that they will happen&lt;br /&gt;
For that to be so, &lt;br /&gt;
There at least, would have been &lt;br /&gt;
One human, one soul.&lt;br /&gt;
Who&#39;d have had &lt;br /&gt;
The same faith that I do.&lt;br /&gt;
That changes would happen&lt;br /&gt;
and She if not He,&lt;br /&gt;
would have worked and contributed &lt;br /&gt;
towards a cause, a change;&lt;br /&gt;
with a &quot;human touch&quot;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s the one thing you see,&lt;br /&gt;
That drives you and me&lt;br /&gt;
For without faith, &lt;br /&gt;
Nothing moves!&lt;br /&gt;
No driving force to compel us.&lt;br /&gt;
For we&#39;d be happy to wait&lt;br /&gt;
and contribute to crowd &lt;br /&gt;
An Audience:&lt;br /&gt;
That&#39;s just too scared to move&lt;br /&gt;
to find for Itself&lt;br /&gt;
what&#39;s beyond the Present.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Faith, Thus!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/6062169498718147422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/04/its-about-time.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/6062169498718147422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/6062169498718147422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/04/its-about-time.html' title='It&#39;s about time'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-7293919978759758916</id><published>2011-04-15T20:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-16T21:27:10.657+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Confessions"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poems"/><title type='text'>I</title><content type='html'>If I were to die tomorrow&lt;br /&gt; would someone shed a tear? &lt;br /&gt;I&#39;m sure there&#39;d be someone to do so &lt;br /&gt;Even if for today they&#39;d say, No! &lt;br /&gt;What is with life and death &lt;br /&gt;that both seperate and unite us then? &lt;br /&gt;Is it just to put up a face &lt;br /&gt;or tell others we could be amazed? &lt;br /&gt;I&#39;ve pretty much lived life &lt;br /&gt;The way I wanted to &lt;br /&gt;I have no regrets so far &lt;br /&gt;and I don&#39;t foresee one too &lt;br /&gt;To some, I&#39;m just plain stupid &lt;br /&gt;To others, to myself untrue &lt;br /&gt;But why should I be giving answers? &lt;br /&gt;as long as I am &quot;I&quot;.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/7293919978759758916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/04/i_15.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/7293919978759758916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/7293919978759758916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2011/04/i_15.html' title='I'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-2358858340729165537</id><published>2010-12-06T19:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-16T21:26:46.813+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Dreams"/><title type='text'>Beauty in Frames: Of White Flowers and Purple Centipedes</title><content type='html'>What beauty do these flowers exude!&lt;br /&gt;One step for a closer look,&lt;br /&gt;Then one more and past them I go&lt;br /&gt;It was a whole lot unlike I have seen before&lt;br /&gt;Behold the beauty, I was simply stunned&lt;br /&gt;The trees enveloped in a morning-like mist&lt;br /&gt;Green, red, yellow all of them in frames&lt;br /&gt;Where’s my camera? I just can’t miss this!&lt;br /&gt;With much regret, back I had to turn,&lt;br /&gt;Just to be engrossed, encapsulated and enchanted&lt;br /&gt;Once again by them. White  flowers!&lt;br /&gt;I have to rush back to grab my camera… or so I thought,&lt;br /&gt;My eyes went down to check my path, Just to realize&lt;br /&gt;Three bright-purple centipedes marching lightning-speed soldiers-like&lt;br /&gt;Up and down encircling my path.&lt;br /&gt;Closer I bend, two groups of brown arthropods all clambering&lt;br /&gt;Least interested in what’s happening around&lt;br /&gt;The purple centipedes disappeared,&lt;br /&gt;Then back in a blink of an eye&lt;br /&gt;Performing the same routine as if programmed&lt;br /&gt;I have to rush to get my camera I recall&lt;br /&gt;And I woke up.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/2358858340729165537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2010/12/beauty-in-frames-of-white-flowers-and.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/2358858340729165537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/2358858340729165537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2010/12/beauty-in-frames-of-white-flowers-and.html' title='Beauty in Frames: Of White Flowers and Purple Centipedes'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128651854496802717.post-1401111621216532551</id><published>2010-12-06T19:32:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-16T21:26:46.813+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Dreams"/><title type='text'>The Calm</title><content type='html'>It was sunrise&lt;br /&gt;No it has to be sunset&lt;br /&gt;She was taking a stroll by the beach&lt;br /&gt;Is it really sunset?&lt;br /&gt;Forget about it!&lt;br /&gt;Here is what happened&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was on a stroll&lt;br /&gt;I remember it was a beach&lt;br /&gt;Because there was a sea side by side&lt;br /&gt;But with no sound of the waves&lt;br /&gt;Nor the seagulls as is usually the case&lt;br /&gt;But it was that orange yellow sunset sky for sure&lt;br /&gt;She was walking as if everything is as&lt;br /&gt;She&#39;d planned it to be&lt;br /&gt;Unperturbed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, a gushing wind&lt;br /&gt;She stayed calm&lt;br /&gt;Though engulfed in the wind&lt;br /&gt;that rolled into a giant ball&lt;br /&gt;It was translucent&lt;br /&gt;Then turned black as the night&lt;br /&gt;As she continued on her path&lt;br /&gt;as though she knew it before hand that&lt;br /&gt;That&#39;s what it&#39;d be like&lt;br /&gt;To walk into&lt;br /&gt;The calm&lt;br /&gt;In the sunset, in the vast open&lt;br /&gt;With no beginning nor end.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/feeds/1401111621216532551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2010/12/calm.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/1401111621216532551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6128651854496802717/posts/default/1401111621216532551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://temsen.blogspot.com/2010/12/calm.html' title='The Calm'/><author><name>G. Temsen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00173533682702698484</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERWAU_VpO7wlHdFn7Nmexpa8mFt5DpMVzSr1GUEAv5MU0fcnoswwAPsUAbeAFi0YxRMBwwWNJmMnJF8SDjy9ykZEtN0Y0IAzrR9kUcEopkWjJgt9SLpY6X8ehC7jDmhw/s220/028.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>