squabble number 19

purpose of this blog-yes i do have to remind myself why i actually created this blog.my seductive thoughts with art.and that ache in my heart for some inspiration and creativity out of desperate situations.my reviving of things i adore and admire from afar and inside my heart.my desires and my feeelings in a form of beauty.

squabble number 18

THirunedungalam


mandapam

squabble number 17

-srirangam

squabble number 16

A wounded deer leaps highest, I've heard the hunter tell; 'Tis but the ecstasy of death, And then the brake is still. The smitten rock that gushes, The trampled steel that springs,, A cheek is always redder Just where the hectic stings Mirth is mail of anguish, In which its cautious arm Lest anybody spy the blood And, you're hurt exclaim-

emily dickinson 

squabblenumber 15

If a man is called to be a streetsweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great streetsweeper who did his job well

Their only home was the streets
well lit and electrifying
for the passerbys
millions walk thru those pavements
only certain pairs stayed that one place
no roof no doors no covers
to be tucked under
for they were left without any identity
for the sake of watchful pity

{Stranded is one thing..
but to be neglected..?}