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Salome Aug 2015
She was there when the battle was won
Dressed in the purest form of light
Even so when the agony was raging and bold
Asha was whispering happy and bright

She was covered in dirt and stains
But in the cleanest clothes as well
Experiencing dark and pain
Although suffering was never in the way

Asha was always present
Needed or not she was there
Be it a devastating event
Or an hour of victorious affair

She helps you to get up
From a calamitous fall
And inspires you to reconstruct
Dreams broken together with the walls

Asha is ubiquitous
Asha is everywhere
Hope is ubiquitous
Hope is everywhere
Because Asha and hope is one
This was a poem dedicated to all those who were affected by Typhoon Haiyan especially the Philippines.
Donall Dempsey Jan 2019
THE RETURN OF DUM MAARO DUM
( for Driftwood )

She dances
upon her tippy toes

upon my toes
whirling 'bout the room

to DUM MAARO DUM
she my little Bollywood queen.

"Again...again....again!" she squeals
mad with childish delight.

Asha sings to us
and we...dance!

Sunlight throws itself
at our feet.

We dance upon it.

Summer gasps
holds its breath.

There is nothing but
the music....and us!

She is all
of three

screaming: "Bollywood me...Bollywood me!"

"This...won't....get the dinner done!"
screams Mum above the fun.

The record screeches
and scratches ...ouch...off!

I cut cucumbers
into tiny tiny pieces.

Tilly washes spinach and lettuce.

But when Mum
goes to answer the phone

it's her best chum
she will be hours

we sneak Asha
back into the kitchen.

The return of. . .

"Dum maaro dum
Mit jaaye gham
Bolo subaha shaam
Hare Krishna hare Krishna hare Krishna Hare Ram!"
Such a superb composition by RD Burman. Asha Boshle voice that perfect creature that it is and matched to Zeenat Aman. Back then we had no idea what it was about only that big father and little daughter couldn't help but compulsively dance anytime the song came on...it was such a joy and we never tired of it.

Piya Tu Ab To Aaja (Monica, Oh My Darling!) was another favourite with all that sung panting and the call of Monica, Oh my Darling! We couldn't get enough of it.
Donall Dempsey Jan 2017
THE RETURN OF DUM MAARO DUM
( for Driftwood )


She dances
upon her tippy toes

upon my toes
whirling 'bout the room

to DUM MAARO DUM
she my little Bollywood queen.

"Again...again....again!" she squeals
mad with childish delight.

Asha sings to us
and we...dance!

Sunlight throws itself
at our feet.

We dance upon it.

Summer gasps
holds its breath.

There is nothing but
the music....and us!

She is all
of three

screaming: "Bollywood me...Bollywood me!"

"This...won't....get the dinner done!"
screams Mum above the fun.

The record screechs
and scratches ...ouch...off!

I cut cuecumbers
into tiny tiny pieces.

Tilly washes spinach and lettuce.

But when Mum
goes to answer the phone

it's her best chum
she will be hours

we sneak Asha
back into the kitchen.

The return of. . .

"Dum maaro dum
Mit jaaye gham
Bolo subaha shaam
Hare Krishna hare Krishna hare Krishna Hare Ram!"
The great R.D(Rahul Dev)Burman lovingly known as Pancham. This is his  song from the film Hare Rama Hare Krishna( 1971 ) sung by his wife Asha Bhosle along with Usha Iyer and chorus. We had no idea what we were singing! We just loved the sounds and music! The hit for us was the joy and delight it brought to our little English kitchen ....making the salad exciting! Pancham and Ashe loved cooking and would have cooking competitions between them. Oh those evergreen Hindi songs!
"Piya tu ab to aa jaa, hey hey hey hey!"( wot great crazy panting and the cry of "Monica darling!") was another great favourite as was Nahin Nahin Abhi and Sun Sun Didi Didi. Then there was one in which a drummer scatted his tik takka tick to her and another with I LIKE YOU kept breaking in in English only to change to I LOVE YOU by the end! And her high pitched voice contrasted with a deep gravelly growly male voice was just so much fun! It's only with the Internet that I can see what we were singing and get translations! Oh our world was so....innocent back then as Hindi and its swirl of music hath us enthralled.


Dum maaro dum
Mit jaaye gham
Bolo subaha shaam
Hare Krishna hare Krishna hare Krishna Hare Ram
Dum maaro dum
Mit jaaye gham
Bolo subaha shaam
Hare Krishna hare Krishna hare Krishna Hare Ram


Take another hit

Take another hit*, all your worries will disappear
From morning to night sing, “Hare Krishna Hare Ram!”*

What has the world given us?
What have we taken from the world?
Why should we worry about anyone?
What has anyone done for us?

Take another hit, all your worries will disappear
From morning to night sing, “Hare Krishna Hare Ram!”

Whether we want to live or die
We won’t be afraid of anyone
The world won’t be able to stop us
For we will do what we want
Gaurav Luthra Jul 2015
“It’s a Girl.” They said,
Destined to go to her ‘own’ home one day,
As if she is born into a strangers home.

Marriage has its own time,
Why make her birth seem like a crime?
Do give her the unconditional love but don’t consider her a bad luck.

“Who will bring forward the family name? She will bring only a shame”, they said
Destined to go to her ‘own’ home one day,
As if she is born into a strangers home.

If that were the case,
Ashamed are parents who gave birth to,
Kalpana Chawla, Asha Roy, Arundhati Battacharya and many more.

Worried about the family name?
Bring her out of the shallow box,
Filled with your narrow thoughts,
Help her reach her full potential,
Then watch the family name gain credentials.

“Do what he tells you to.” They said,
That is your house,
He is your everything.

From her, kings are born,
From her, woman is born,
Without her, there would be nobody at all,
So why then do we make her a slave?

Likes, shares, tweets and re-tweets can only do so much…
Empower your thoughts and not just the woman,
Teach your son to respect the girls,
Allow your daughters to reach their passion,
Then watch the empowerment take action.
Maxine Schmidt Nov 2012
She was born a peculiar case,
A miraculous creation of a new vulnerable race.
Hair of night and skin of sand,
But startling beauty was not the issue at hand.

Born of a peculiar race was she,
With insights further than the wisest can see.
A gifted voice of reason and rhyme,
Completed with a soul as anceint as time

A miraculous creation and an awe abiding miracle.
A strong soul surpassing her biological obstacle.
Vulnerability comes with the placement of hearts.
Which is protected by ribs and fleshy parts.

She was born apart from you and me.
Her heart beat beneath her thinly knit sleeve.  
With ours hidden within, we can ignore
Feelings of love or feelings of sore.
With her's open for all to see,
She must live with her heart totally free.
To my best friend Asha, who speaks from her inside out, acts on her slightest urges and loves with a heart on her sleeve. She is a gift, but she just needs to be discovered.
I praise Thee, God, whose rays upstart beneath the Bright
and Morning Star:
Nowit asali fardh salat assobhi allahu akbar.

I praise Thee, God, the fierce and swart; at noon Thou ridest
forth to war!
Nowit asali fardh salat assohri allahu akabr.

I praise Thee, God, whose arrows dart their royal radiance
o'er the scar:
Nowit asali fardh salat asasri allahu akabr.

I praise Thee, God, whose fires depart, who drivest down the
sky thy car:
Nowit asali fardh salat al maghrab allahu akabr.

I praise Thee, God, whose purple heart is hidden in the abyss
afar:
Nowit asali fardh salat al asha allahu akabr.
Debanjana Saha Nov 2017
Ek dost Tha Mera
Rehta Tha dur sheher me
Aata Tha kabhi kabar
Dher saare khushiyaan lekar
Din ya raat **, hasna muskurana,
Kabhi Kam na hota tha..

Jab bhi aata Tha
Har Roz milta Tha
Bohot der tak rukne ko taiyyar tha
Kabhi bola nahi-
K nahi yaar, aaj nahi.

Din badal Gaye mahine me,
Aur mujhe degaya har khushi
Jo kabhi mile na the!

Par ek din aisa bhi aaya,
Jab wo ghar Chala Gaya
Aur wapas kab aayega
Pata na tha..

Din, mahine bidte gaye
Par Akhon me asha kabhi na miti!
Usey bol to nahi payi
K dost kabhi to aa..

Ab har din naye dost banati hu
Hasti hu, khilkhilati hu,
Khush rehne ki koshish karti hu.
Din ya raat bahar rehti hu
Is umeed me k har Hawa me kabhi
Tu mil Jaye mujhe
Aur har din
Tere yaad me guzar leti hu..

Kabhi to aayega tu..
Din mahine saal
Shayed beet Jaye..

Kabhi to aayega tu..

English translation-

I had a friend,
Who stayed in another city,
Used to visit me every other day,
Bringing loads of happiness altogether
Without any shortage of Smiles or laughter.

Whenever he was here,
Everyday he used to meet me
Was ready to wait for me long
Never said, no today I can't.

Days passes by
And months too
And he gave me all happiness
And everyday seemed like a festival
Which I never had a chance to live!

But there came a day
When he had to return back home
Never knew when he would be back!

Days passed by
and months too.
But in my eyes,
Hopes never extinguished,
Never ever had I said
That friend- come back soon.

Everyday I make new friends
I smile, I laugh out loud.
I try to be happy
each and every day.
Day or night, I stay out
In the hopes of life
that the winds would
bring me closer to you.
And everyday I live
in the memories of you

May be someday
I would see you,
Days, months, years
Might pass by too,
May be someday..

Someday you will be back too..
I wrote this poetry dedicated to my friend who stays far off. I love him, I miss him loads. Hoping that we would be together all over again. There are days when I can't bear the pain of being apart. Neither can I express it in any way. The best way I could express was through this poetry.
vircapio gale Jun 2012
let me structure you first:
there, now, ready, fly my owl
granting vision logic,
guiding thoughtform fair.
what softness in the earth gives way
to waterway, what forceful gust of air
to final quench of earthy thirst...
such unseen pyschomancy dusts
the wing-stroke of your flight,
and weathers well my musing trust;
you see with ancient zero eye,
and die to my dull interpret edge;
like a certain volcano jumper's
ox of oats and honey you
coat the stone of time to
symbolize my rhyme. hold,
softer, still, i do not need to cut
or pluck or forge with harshness --
your shrill screeching from the cage
of lines here summons more
than Athene's gavel ever forced.
otherwise than writing, you wait...
cradled darkly, unknown priorlife
of avadhuta colors mixing in,
of whalesong faintly felt
like stegosaurus moans,
like city-ships to overreach and then to rot,
forgotten tattva vidya shastra
forgotten sukha,
Megbe, Tirawa, Awen, Asha, Ichor...
(अवधूत avadhūta) is a Sanskrit term from some Indian religions or Dharmic Traditions referring to a type of mystic or saint who is beyond egoic-consciousness, duality and common worldly concerns and acts without consideration for standard social etiquette. Such personalities "roam free like a child upon the face of the Earth" (wiki).

अव 'ava':

favour; off, away, down.

धूत 'dhUta':

shaken, stirred, agitated; "rinsed"; fanned, kindled; shaken off, removed, destroyed; judged; reproached; [neut.] morality

अव-धूत 'avadhUta':

"shaken off (as evil spirits)"; removed, shaken away; discarded, expelled, excluded; disregarded, neglected, rejected; touched; shaken, agitated (especially as plants or the dust by the wind), fanned; that upon which anything unclean has been shaken out or off; unclean; one who has shaken, off from themselves worldly feeling and obligation, a philosopher; [neut.] rejecting, repudiating

\|/

tattva-vidya-shastra:

"discipline of knowing reality" (one modern sanskrit term for philosophical enquiry -- the language having no straightforward equivalents for 'philosophy' or 'religion')

sukha:

skt. for happiness, comfort, ease, pleasure, bliss, light, space.
    fr. Su(good) & kha (“sky,” “ether,” “space,” orig. “hole,” particularly an axle hole of one of the Aryan’s vehicles, thus “having a good axle hole,” while dukkha meant “having a poor axle hole,” leading to discomfort

Megbe (African):

life force exists in blood and bones

Tirawa (Pawnee):

'force which moves all things'

Awen (Welsh):

"(poetic) inspiration"; also considered a force or
energy forged from an indivisible source that is the power behind the
physical

Asha (Avestan):

'truth', 'existence', 'right working', "the decisive confessional
concept of Zoroastrianism" (in Vedic language ṛta). "The correspondence between 'truth',
reality, and an all-encompassing cosmic principle is not far removed
from Heraclitus' conception of Logos." (wiki)

Ichor (Gk):

ἰχώρ is the ethereal golden fluid that is the blood of the gods
and/or immortals
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2015
talking exhaust writing, talking leaves no impetus to write,
talking is like staring into a closet or a boiler room,
there are fumes of missed chances, or of shadowy skeletons
asking for a revision of the social etiquette no made:
what is the quasi-dialectics modern society prescribes
nudging in a lie with a lie followed by another lie?
whatever the defining term, it only prescribes a loss of furthering
discussion, empowering this etiquette with solipsism;
or there this overly psychologised parent thesis,
this morbidity of the lost beauty of language, fixated
on guarantees of never being undermined - it stinks of
excluding all other uses of language, or it simply tries to
incorporate them under the banner that history, poetry, philosophy,
physics can be psychologised into one affordable use of language,
which is why when i write psychological words i am greatly pained,
e.g.:

a bit like probing someone’s subconscious for a quick
memory stimulant: in a shop two friends
passed the isles,
the music shop was blasting creedence clearwater revival...
with the song cotton fields being used
as the adequate prop for the experiment...
when i was a little bitty baby
my mama would rock me in the cradle,
in them old cotton fields back home;
it was down in louisiana
just about a mile from texarkana,
in them old cotton fields back home -*
buzzing, looking for dvds of gone girl and some science fiction
movie...
the music in the background wasn’t discussed...
but the revival of the vinyls in a corner was admired...
34 quid for the beatles’ white album... *******...
and cornershops’ brimful of asha lazy instrument at 70£...
then some tea and café awkward flirtation...
then to the pub!
two pints down the gob and the quizzical stutter gone...
the sort that means you thought for very long
and didn’t speak to someone for a long time...
nerves of caffeine and nicotine with the boogie wagon...
so yeah... prodding memory in the subconscious
as short-term, meaning long-term in the waking hour defines
the personality among other faculties of the membered brain,
whether that’s liver, kidney or lung... the brain troops
them into the body on the northern korean march sport of the army...
some say the chinese will come with a pigeon or a crane strut...
no geese in pseudo-hindu affiliations of order...
memory and the third party from sleep to wake?
how many dreams could you actually remember with the alarm clock ringing?
about none...
i wake without the alarm clock... and when waking i have a strange
dream in the 5 minutes of the snooze button imaginarily pressed...
the general anaesthetic isn’t death... because under general anaesthetic
you don’t actually dream... it’s chemical not even remotely natural.
so that part where i exclaimed: to the pub!
some landscapist on the wall with full biography lamenting
the curses of the french revolution and how the aristocracy suffered
with the new aristocracy of the newly rich... the merchants
the shoelace tiers... the cobblers and the chieftains of the cooking ***,
‘yeah, chicken hearts in onion sauce have the consistency of squid rings,’
and so... in the olden thou art a battered beetroot cheek...
this landscapist wrote four clauses about ol’ *** village known today
as gidea park... he swore that he noticed chalky graffiti
of vituperativeness... he said: no chore of violence was revealed,
since the graffiti was sworn as an oath to dig into the coal mines of melancholic bile
and simply vandalise the new aristocrats’ possessions
with words of cursing chiseled in by chalk, of the newly rich
who never passed their gains through blood but rather through molten iron or sporty leather - but you know what they say:
the merchant of mecca dies... the blood heirs become assassinated
and the four caliphs (the rashidun) emerge.
only poets have the courage to return to the beginnings
of language acquisition - they dare to mishandle language
and by mishandling it dare to usurp prosaic grammar structures,
only poets have the courage to return to the beginnings
of language acquisition, singing the alphabet:
a b c d e f g... h i j... k... el em en l o p... q r s... t u v... w x blah blah z (
with a quasi incy wincy spider timing).
that's what i mean! i hate psychologism and psychological
words in general, they literally domineer people,
it's like the jungian theory of the collective unconscious...
it's like we're supposed to remember the archetypes...
but the unconscious has no memory-content...
given the fact that the unconscious is pure imagination...
since we dream... i don't know how we remember dreams...
but it's hardly in our sleep but upon waking...
a thin red line though... 'tshh... mayday mayday...
boeing 747 flight no. 209zt is going to crash...
black box on the ready, over and out... tshh,'
unless the memory function in the unconscious is to
remember the image sequence that are dreams
upon waking... thin red line though...
oh no... how did i get tangled in this psychology *******
once again?!
unwind! i walked home in the cool autumn
wearing just a shirt...
down a very english road of haunted houses of satiated
materialism... the colour patterns of flowers
still not stampeded by winter in blush violet and indigo...
amorous chequers of flamingos and oranges...
and the sunset with a 10 - 1 bet against it...
with the moon just behind the corner of the sky
looming hazes of cloudy cider sky of the northern dark.
Asha Nakirya Feb 2013
Today i took a walk at the beach
watched the waves, listened to the breeze,
picked up some sea shells,
saw a neatly grass thatched house...

I drove through a field,
first time behind the wheel,
Today i walked through a rose garden, beautiful
white roses, pink, red, yellow...
i even saw black roses...

Today i broke down,
i just broke down...
i smiled, then broke down.

Every thing i do reminds me of Him...

Today i listened to his favorite music...
listening to every line every bit,
clinging on every thought...

Today i smiled at his jokes
precious time we spent together...
i missed Him so much
I broke down...

Today it hit me,
reality struck me
i missed him so badly
His never coming back...

asha.
Michael R Burch Jun 2020
Yasna 28, Verse 6
by Zarathustra/Zoroaster
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Lead us to pure thought and truth
by your sacred word and long-enduring assistance,
O, eternal Giver of the gifts of righteousness.

O, wise Lord, grant us spiritual strength and joy;
help us overcome our enemies’ enmity!

Translator’s Note: The Gathas consist of 17 hymns believed to have been composed by Zarathustra (Zoroaster), whose compositions may date as far back as 1700 BC, although there is no scholarly consensus as to when he lived. These hymns form the core of the Zoroastrian liturgy called the Yasna. The language employed, Gathic or Old Avestan, is related to the proto-Indo-Iranian and proto-Iranian languages and to Vedic Sanskrit. The Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy deems Zoroaster to have been the first philosopher. Zoroaster has also been called the father of ethics, the first rationalist and the first monotheist. In the original texts, Ahura Mazda means “wise Lord” or “Lord of Wisdom” while Vohuman/Vohu Manah represents pure thought and righteousness and Asha represents truth. Angra Mainyu was the chief evil entity, a precursor of Satan. Keywords/Tags: Zarathustra, Zoroaster, Yasna, Gathas, Avestan, mrbtr, Spiritual, Prayer, God, Righteousness, Holiness, Purity, Grace, Protection
Asha Nicole Mar 2012
I cannot explain the record of my own thoughts
Because a true loving heart rarely ever beats
And a true harmonic harmony rarely ever sings
of those who have died, and those who are long dead

I cannot condone any of my own apologies
Because liars never lie, simply misconstrue the truth
And writers never write, simply misconstrue the words
of those who have died, and those who are long dead

I cannot express any more of my own condolences
Because a funeral is not the proper mourning of the loss
And a wedding is not the proper symbol of the bond
Of those who have died, and those who are long dead

I cannot grasp the false sense of my own sanctity
Because artists always disregard the eyes of creativity
And Optimists always peek through the eyes of negativity
Of those who have died, and those who are long dead

By Asha Hopkins
Bolat chameli beli
Are sakhi rajanigandha
Bolo
Kyon ithlati **?
Rajani bolat are sakhiman!
Meri maiya bolati thi
Are bitiya sun lo na!
Kabhi mala mein goonthi
Jaakar premi ko ithlaogi
Ya kisi raja ke mukut
Prem shaiyya ki
Sartaj kehlaogi
Lekin aas ek hi rakhna
Are banmali
Us path par mujhe tum
Dena phenk
Jis path matribhumi
Par sheesh chadhane
Jaayein veer anek!
Kya asha hai rajani
Boli chameli beli
Ithlana tumhara sarthak hai
Tumhi to veeron ki mala
Ki saakhi!
Re rajani,tum **
Punyavati manjari!
'Pushp ki abhilasha ' se prerit!
THE RETURN OF DUM MAARO DUM
(for Driftwood aka
Shyam Sunder Sharma)

She dances
upon her tippy toes

upon my toes
whirling 'bout the room

to DUM MAARO DUM
she my little Bollywood queen.

"Again...again....again!" she squeals
mad with childish delight.

Asha sings to us
and we...dance!

Sunlight throws itself
at our feet.

We dance upon it.

Summer gasps
holds its breath.

There is nothing but
the music....and us!

She is all
of three

screaming: "Bollywood me...Bollywood me!"

"This...won't....get the dinner done!"
screams Mum above the fun.

The record screeches
and scratches ...ouch...off!

I cut cucumbers
into tiny tiny pieces.

Tilly washes spinach and lettuce.

But when Mum
goes to answer the phone

it's her best chum
she will be hours

we sneak Asha
back into the kitchen.

The return of. . .

"Dum maaro dum
Mit jaaye gham
Bolo subaha shaam.

Hare Krishna hare Krishna hare Krishna Hare Ram!"  

*



Such a superb composition by RD Burman. Asha Boshle's voice that perfect creature that it is and matched to Zeenat Aman. Back then we had no idea what it was about only that big father and little daughter couldn't help but compulsively dance anytime the song came on...it was such a joy and we never tired of it.
Kevin saw a Flash light
That bore a Lex-Shan moment. He called out for Joe
Who was running after Mimi
In a sound Paaz played when
Don danced off to the Asha tune.
Then Kent installed a Leby app
While Zalin blushed over the Toto belly ***
Which trimmed Noreen into a model
Phillip managed to fish out Jackie
And Tom yet discovered
   Snipes arrested
After  a blackout in Amos’ custody
As Kay and the rest Hihid.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
vänster, samt vad är kvar / left, together with what's left (Sveedish).

i didn't tell you which hemisphere of
the brain was affected, the uncensored region
you might say - unaffected by
αφασια - a fine balancing act:

right*                              |                     ­       left
imagination                                        ­          logic
intuition                                                  langu­ge
insight                                                  reaso­ning
music                                                   arithmetic
art                                           science in general
= Σ, a holistic basin            = Σ, a rat in a maze

so no wonder - the left was pumped up studying
chemistry and not really bothered about
theological-humanism or humanism per se,
arguments came, arguments went,
some argued, some prayed, it was all a bit
like a fiery hoopla thrown in the air with
a dog jumping through it at the same time -
but what i don't understand is how,
certain aspects of knowledge encapsulating
a universal breadth of things are based upon
limitations, limitations that are, after all
the particulars - like Socrates mused,
universally we can all see the stars -
blind men and speech coupled with
imagination are a particular cut-off point,
as i guess are astronauts - star-gazing must
seem rather boring after you've seen the earth
from above like that - never mind the photographs
from up there, won't do it justice -
so let's say we have the above stated schematic of
variations in the hemispheres - why did
i get this adrenaline / steroid boost in language?
the only reason i can think of is that this language
was acquired, it's technically an inorganic part of me,
should it be organic akin to the body it would
have to be spoken to a child in some remote part
of Poland, any haemorrhage is an organic event,
it's this inorganic implant in me that's surfacing
and seems unaffected, rebellious against the body's
change... for a minute there i thought i handled
the whole debate well, now i'm not so sure -
it's this music pounding that's affecting the writing,
sometimes you get it right, sometimes you get it wrong,
but the compensation is... it's on digital paper,
i'm not chopping down the Amazon or stealing
other people's toilet paper... language usage based
upon misnomer-ism, a theory that to encompass
a well-intended vocabulary given the depth of
all human vocabulary is a sheer impossibility unless
it be limited, and by being limited invokes
emotional connection to averse reaction via a censor
or without a censor - or was that the expectation
to understand left and right in a classroom with prim
instances of use of thought out immortality and
Japanese perfectionism in the garden? mortal, mistake,
mortal, mistake - and if mortality wasn't bad enough
the insistent lamentations of a would-be-heaven-to-come.
now i can write blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah
like this forever, but i just have a feeling for anymore,
it's this contradictory lamentation of what
adequate language activity is expected of anyone -
or why the qualities of the left are only partially damaged,
and the sudden exponential rush to compulsive
writing, hermit-like-existence and overall boredom
with existence (i hate that in england there's a
distinction between existence and life... existence always
has negative connotations, to me it just means life
in slow-motion- i.e. out of every instance; or?
attention to detail). but it's true, that's how it's spoken
in england - existence bad, life good - or why is it
that both self and ego are used in psychology?
they're no longer proper pronouns, so i guess they can
act as bumper stickers or boxing bags to bash
about because no one is going to write or speak a
sentence using them, well the self is still used more,
no ego-tripping as they say - but you wouldn't
exactly write, so self went to the corner-shop
and bought myself a brimful of asha (forty-five!),
one's german, the other is latin, and we're bashing
these words about with theories, structures
of necessary conviction while using a more fluid
system of pronouns, but we nonetheless kept them
for theoretical purposes, supposing we wouldn't
hurt anyone in the process... why keep both?
it's like two histories colliding - the history of barbaric
invaders from the north with their ram-like
persistence to keep talking, and the southerners who
didn't like the runes and like Greek thought.
i don't know, seems like a bordello in terms of keeping
any language tidy.

p.s. i wonder why, with the right hemisphere being
unaffected i do not experience lucid dreaming...
i guess the brain just said: dreaming is irrational
when justifying a good night's sleep.
Asha - Ray of Sunshine, hope is her name, she loves to dance, forever young and has a beautiful heart

Pallavi- A beautiful flower, lovely smile, deep thoughts, brownies and chocolates, her recipe to melt hearts, dance her passion, master at her craft

Neeta-  Naive and lovely, with an innocent smile, positivity her armour, she is quite a charmer

Sapna - Bakes most lovely cakes, red lipstick, vermillion dot on her forehead, a trademark, wears her heart on her sleeve, full of love, she extends it to every soul, Punjabi her style, Patiala heart(big heart)

Pradnya- Sweet as saccharine, she knows a lot, sure a woman of substance, wisdom her charm, dances to the tune of her heart

Sajeeda- Versatile personality, a multitasker, holds her goals clear and achieve she does, has keen eyes for quality and performs her best, quite an angel when it comes to taking broken ones under her wings. She has the will power which keeps her going, when the going gets rough. A brave heart, and a wandering soul, searching for heights and higher self. A go getter, with a never say never attitude. Has weathered a few storms. A wonderful person with a tough outer shell and a warm heart beneath

Bijal-  Happy go lucky, warm and affectionate, friend of friends. Ever smiling, never a frown on her brows
Breezes in with a jovial chime

Neelakshi-  Creative and wonderful, she knows the law, cool as ice, her heart warm, dances her heart out, even when a bit down
Goes with the flow and knows what she does, crystal clear in her views.
Jovial and throws caution to the wind
Wrote this for  my friends from the dance academy that I have joined, have known them for about six months. Couple of them asked, if I could write something about them. Knowing that I write :)
Asha Nakirya Feb 2013
Accepting is hard
but inevitable,
Its some what unbearable...
I Accept.

How i have looked for answers
How i have awaited a revelation
How i have strained my ears,
just to catch a whisper
of what i wanted to hear...

There are NO answers,
NO revelations, NO whisper,
and whatever it is,
i know i don't to hear it.

I Accept
My fear has come out
knocking so hard,
i cant take the noise...

Ill face you
on one Condition,
This fight is mine...
I've lost you any way.
asha.
Asha Nakirya Feb 2013
...there is something warm and tender with the way you look at me...
That undresses my soul,
that hopeful gaze in your eyes goes straight to my heart...

for every time i drift off to sleep with you next to me
I know you will always be there with me
what we share transcends our daily reality

But for the moments i spend with you
tick too first
i just want to stop the clock
turn back time...
asha.
I heard his voice before I saw him.
Just seconds before I was telling ol Asha
"He's annoying me. I didn't even talk to him today."
It was the first time in 4 months.

Just as the words left my mouth
I heard his voice telling someone he was coming to see me.
Me

I wondered how he'd known where exactly I'd be.
In my same ol corner, in my same ol chair.

He stayed there with me for four hours.
Sitting across a table we laughed until we choked
We revisited all the things we hadn't been able to say via text or FaceTime.

Oh how I missed my friend.
I vented about my struggles
We laughed at my tenderness.

We discussed sexuality, race, black women, black men.
We discussed our history, and how this moment was really all we needed.

"Remember that awkward talk we had?"
"Why would you bring that up?"
"I was so mad at you"
"Well we're here now"

And I'm just falling right here.
Thank you for respecting my time, my mind, my space. I fall for your heart more and more each day. I've never been so connected to a person without being at all physical, and I couldn't be happier to be falling for my friend.
Pooja srivastava Aug 2020
Teen mahine pehle ek dastak hui,
603-604 asha appt mein hulchul hui,

Mein Corona hoon, sab mujhse darte hai...usne jataya..
Kuch darre hum, kuch sehme hum,
Phir usko bataya...
Saalo pehle BP aur Sugar aaye the,
Hum goli khaye, phir kheer pakori ka mazza uthaya...
Aur unko niptaaya....
Uff Caronao, humein daraona....

Kuch hum darre hai,
Ghar par baithe hai,
Sab jagah curfew hai,
Sadak par "few" hai,
Woh Corona Warriors hai...
Uff Coronao, humein daraona...

Kuch study ki, analysis kiya,
Immunity ko strong kiya,
Anlom-vilom par command kiya,
Saas aise powerful kiya,
Corona ne bhi social distancing kiya,
Uff Coronao, humein daraona....

Hummare pair mein bhi sanichar hai,
Ghar se nikalna humari fitrat hai,
Kuch na sahi corona hai,
Ussi ka discussion hai,
Uff coronao, humein daraona

Tum senior citizen na bano,
Youngster ki gali mein raho,
Hum party aur dinner ko tarse,
Tum pre-Corona bash manao,
Uff coronao, humein daraona

Maana badlaav mushkil hai,
Par safar toh karna hai,
Nokia namaskar se phone tak,
Soap se sanitizer tak,
College life se family life tak,
Ghoomne se ghar par thaherne tak,
Uff Corona, humein daraona...
This is for 2 brothers, both senior n retired, have diabetes, BP....n loves to venture out
Ny-Asha Mar 2016
Check out more of my work on my personal website & some amazing art pieces from incredible artists around the world (updated weekly) ---> Links posted below!

Thank you for the consistent support!

Cheers!

Ny-Asha

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