"balan" poems
✿⊰✲⊱✿
At the sound of my name, I see the faces
turn and smiles of many friends;
Queen Sue of Ruikruya in her lilac silks,
Queen Sarita of Khaikar in orange silks,
Queen Deb of Daegeral in magenta,
Queen Kim of Geniael in creams,
Queen Robin of Naeneiana in periwinkles,
Queen Fawn of Yuamor in red-violets,
Queen Dawn of Khesian in dandelion-orange,
Queen Jugnu of Enuryn in jade-greens,
Queen Yidna of Puhan in indigos,
Queen Cne of Phelyra in turquoise,
Queen Xaela of Lonusea in peach,
Queen Ayumi of Wadia in tan-gold,
Queen Sheila of Naizzuzia in cornflower-blue,
Queen Stars of Yurithireatha in green-yellow
✿⊰✲⊱✿
King Edmund and his wife in matching
forest-greens attires,
King Omni of Khaniel in silvers,
King Emeka of Ghalali in white,
King Devon of Monait in blue-violets,
King Fugue of Thavia in blacks,
King Yacov of Igrador in olive-green,
King Joseph of Eaqellurene in bronze,
King Fredrick of Emirinait in mauve,
King Rob of Balan in sea-green,
King John of Khesian in melon-red,
King Aslam of Ikaesa in deep plum,
King Brandon of Huarean in ocher,
King Kikodinho of Izugalla in taupe,
King Jobira of Zavalon in orange-red
and many many more.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
And last but not least, King Paul of
Luciuscemi himself in emerald-and-gold.
He wears his favourite emerald green
jacket with ruby buttons, bright gold
embroidery of suns and lions; his sleeves
stitched with pearls and rubies to match
the red sash across his chest; his trousers
black as are his boots, but even they have
gold laces.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 6:17 AM UTC
#
………………………………………………………………
H
Ha
Hap
Happ
Happy
Happy o
Happy or
Happy or d
Happy or de
Happy or dep
Happy or depr
Happy or depres
Happy or depress
Happy or depresse
Happy or depressed
Happy or depresse
Happy or depress
Happy or depres
Happy or depre
Happy or depr
Happy or dep
Happy or de
Happy or d
Happy or
Happy o
Happy
Happ
Hap
Ha
H
L
Li
Lif
Life
Life i
Life is
Life is a
Life is a b
Life is a ba
Life is a bal
Life is a bala
Life is a balan
Life is a balanc
Life is a balanci
Life is a balancin
Life is a balancing
Life is a balancing a
Life is a balancing ac
Life is a balancing act
Life is a balancing ac
Life is a balancing a
Life is a balancing
Life is a balancin
Life is a balanci
Life is a balanc
Life is a balan
Life is a bala
Life is a bal
Life is a ba
Life is a b
Life is a
Life is
Life i
Life
Lif
Li
L
S
So
So e
So ea
So eas
So easy
So easy t
So easy to
So easy to s
So easy to sl
So easy to sli
So easy to slip
So easy to slip a
So easy to slip an
So easy to slip and
So easy to slip and f
So easy to slip and fa
So easy to slip and fal
So easy to slip and fall
So easy to slip and fal
So easy to slip and fa
So easy to slip and f
So easy to slip and
So easy to slip an
So easy to slip a
So easy to slip
So easy to sli
So easy to sl
So easy to s
So easy to
So easy t
So easy
So eas
So ea
So e
So
S
M
Mo
Moo
Mood
Moods
Moods t
Moods th
Moods tha
Moods that
Moods that f
Moods that fa
Moods that fal
Moods that fall
Moods that fall c
Moods that fall ca
Moods that fall can
Moods that fall can r
Moods that fall can ri
Moods that fall can ris
Moods that fall can rise
Moods that fall can rise a
Moods that fall can rise ag
Moods that fall can rise aga
Moods that fall can rise agai
Moods that fall can rise again
Moods that fall can rise agai
Moods that fall can rise aga
Moods that fall can rise ag
Moods that fall can rise a
Moods that fall can rise
Moods that fall can ris
Moods that fall can ri
Moods that fall can r
Moods that fall can
Moods that fall ca
Moods that fall c
Moods that fall
Moods that fal
Moods that fa
Moods that f
Moods that
Moods tha
Moods th
Moods t
Moods
Mood
Moo
Mo
M
………………………………………………………………
Wait for tomorrow’s new day
#
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 12:27 PM UTC
He woke up from a dream today,
To gaze sight at the break of dawn,
A part of his life gone for the day,
As the morning dew drops on the lawn
Precious memories mingled with emotions,
As the night before played in his mind,
A beauty that needs full devotion,
The red tulip blooms for his kind
Tears fill his dazed eyes,
A thought lingers for that touch,
This heart twisted with cries,
His mortal love for a soul he has not seen much
The dark clouds sweep in gracefully,
Announcing the fall of the mighty rain,
This soul sits in the corner of despair,
Afraid of that grey world of calamity
The windowpane becomes blurry,
And so do his visions of her fade away,
In the cold midnight chill,
Leaving the darkness to prevail
He kneels down by his bed,
Gazing up at the darkened skies,
The moon shining bright,
And the stars twinkling brighter
He prays to the nightfall,
As his ravenous beauty dances with the stars,
Her shadow among the clouds,
An apparition hidden among the darkness,
This dark forlorn love,
As the sands of time change,
He remains there still,
An embodiment of his sacred feeling,
Worshiping her, day and night.
Vijaya Balan (2008)
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
Painted pictures come to life,
Twirling landscapes with subliminal words,
He gestures back and forth with life,
The white canvass transforms into a palette
You stood on the inside,
Wanting to go out,
You watched from the inside,
Wishing you were someone else
He’s driven around in a limousine,
With a stack of green bills to light his cigar,
He’s got it made and does not know you exist,
He dines with pomposity and drinks in gold
You stood on the outside,
Watching him dine and wine,
You watched from the outside,
Wishing you were sitting there.
She was a model, thin and tall,
Brawny and bright with a flair of the fair,
She smiled and danced, gyrating her hips
She partied until she could no more
You stood on the outside,
You wished you had her life,
You watched from the outside,
Wishing someone invited you
To life’s grand celebration
You did not know though,
The model died of drug abuse,
The tycoon was murdered,
And the artist…ahh the Artist!
That was you…that was you first and foremost
You forgot and you deviated!
You re-arranged your priorities
And now…and now
You stand on the outside,
You no longer can watch the world go by,
You no longer can wish,
You in a wooden coffin,
Being laid to rest.
You died yesterday,
Poisoned with affection
By someone who stood by
And watched you from the outside
Vijaya Balan (2009)
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 4:12 AM UTC
Sitting on the bench on a windy evening,
The bus schedule doesn’t seem right,
He hears neither smoke nor that funky horn,
He longs for that journey home.
This trip back home had to come,
He breathes a heavy sigh, exhausted,
The weary look and the blank face,
The ***** cap hides the grey lines,
The silver watch still shows the time,
Tonight, he goes home.
“Mama, she taught me all she can”
“She worked the fields and the mills”
His eyes lit up at the sound of the engine,
The bus comes around the corner,
Dusty windshield with a crack,
Tires that have rode a million miles,
That’s where he’s going today,
A million miles back home
He sits by the window,
A bag with his world in it,
A wallet with pennies for a ride,
A card for what he used to be,
An identity that never matched the world,
Lost and found, stamped on his forehead,
Sitting in the ‘Return to Sender’ pigeonhole
Days of joy seemed short-lived,
Nights by the road seemed cold,
The rain drenched and the sun burned,
He closes his eyes and wishes it would change,
Dreams of a cottage and a convertible,
How they seem to be at a distant
“Mama, I’m coming home”
“Home is where my head lays to sleep”
No more of loud bangs and broken walls
No more screams and cries of the broken-boned
“I’ve seen enough, Mama”
“Of this world and what it can be like”
The misery and disease,
The war and terror,
Decades of violence and they never seem to learn,
An eye for an eye makes this world go blind.
It’s hard to smile anymore,
Yet, he still tries to manage one every day,
No matter how difficult the day appears,
‘Cause he knew it would have been worse,
He would have been dead under all that rubble,
No pulse beating and no Sun to see shine tomorrow
He’s smiling although his heart aches,
He smiles although his cold inside,
“I’m smiling…and I’m coming home Mama”
“Back home, to your lovely bread and strawberry jam”
He nods of to sleep,
The dark and hardened lines visible on his face,
He longs for his journey back.
Vijaya Balan (2009)
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 3:56 AM UTC
He has given a luxurious twist to the dying art of weaving and popularised the use of Khadi. Award-winning textile designer Gaurang Shah is more than happy that the Indian fashion industry has welcomed handlooms. “As a textile designer, I would like to say the Indian fashion industry has embraced handlooms with lot of admiration and helped revive our ancient traditions of weaving art, like the jamdani weaves, that we use in creating our fashion pieces,” Shah told IANS.
“It also reinforced its unparalleled beauty around the world,” he added. The designer says that one must acknowledge the passion and intense amount of production hours every weaver at the looms puts to bring out timeless pieces of handlooms.
“The fashion industry did contribute to bring them back into vogue in recent years,” he said. Shah showcased his latest collection of 40 garments titled Muslin at Lakme’s Fashion Week Summer/Resort 2017. His anthology for the gala was inspired by romance of nature.
Giving details about his range, he said: “Our collection incorporates weaves and techniques from West Bengal, Andhra Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh and Rajasthan. The amazing all-in-whites collections integrate gorgeous Mughal motifs and geometric patterns on Khadi, chikankari embroidery and Parsi gara.”
The designer’s collection involved 50 weavers working relentlessly for over six months. Shah, whose handloom creation made its way to the 69th Cannes Film Festival when Deepshikha Deshmukh, producer of Aishwarya Rai Bachchan starrer “Sarbjit”, stepped out in an ensemble featuring Paithani and Kanjeevaram details, says that handlooms are a glorious heritage of India and it is important to preserve and help the artists’ community grow.
“I would like to add that a few years ago this beautiful art was fading away. Thanks to persistent effort and motivation from label like ours, followed by the efforts of our Prime Minister Narendra Modi, that pushed Indian handlooms to higher level of acceptance,” he said.
Shah began his journey in the textile world with just two weavers and today the label works with 700 weavers, and the number is still growing.
“The biggest contribution we as a designer can make is to keep our artisans motivated and also help them gain confidence that it is a highly profitable profession,” said the designer, who has styled the stars like Vidya Balan, Sonam Kapoor and Kirron Kher.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 10:00 PM UTC
Defining the aesthetics of her today,
Eternally grateful for unrestrained emotions,
Emotionally fulfilled by the harbinger of devotions,
No rays shine brighter every day,
First to rejoice and least to be demanding of my day,
You rose and bloomed, defining our actions,
You shed a tear and more, for your determined convictions,
And I’m standing here, grateful every day,
From dawn to dusk, multiple links communicating,
No shades of grey, for matters of the heart,
Patient when I’m not and balancing when I am,
Tranquil and tenacious roots of passion, illuminating,
Unfolding these lines that attempt some sort of art,
For you have been engraved here, where I am.
Vijaya Balan
13.11.14
(c) 2014
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
✿⊰✲⊱✿
Though we could not see the emblem,
we know who eachof the colours belong to
Sue's Kingdom of Ruikruya releases lilac paper lanterns,
Edmund's Chairis forest-green,
Sarita's Khaikar orange lanterns,
Omni's Khaniel silver,
Deb's Daegeral magenta,
Devon's Monait blue-violets,
✿⊰✲⊱✿
Kim's Geniael cream,
Emeka's Ghalali white,
Robin's Naeneiana periwinkle,
Fugue's Thavia blacks,
Fawn's Yuamor red-violets,
Yacov's Igrador olive-green,
Dawn's Khesian dandelion-orange,
Joseph's Eaqellurene bronze,
Jugnu's Enuryn jade-green,
✿⊰✲⊱✿
Fredrick's Emirinait mauve,
Yidna's Puhan indigo,
Rob's Balan sea-green,
Cne's Phelyra turquoise,
John's Khesian melon-red,
Xaela's Lonusea peach,
Aslam's Ikaesa deep plum,
Ayumi's Wadia tan-gold,
Brandon's Huarean ocher,
Sheila's Naizzuzia cornflower-blue,
Kikodinho's Izugalla in taupe,
Stars' Yurithireatha green-yellow,
Jobira's Zavalon in orange-red
and lastly, my Aurelinaea deep blue
,
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 6:39 PM UTC
Deviants we are who gathered at this square table,
Dancing and cheering with the elixirs of intoxication,
I stopped and smelled the fresh air,
There was an abundance of it
A parade passed by for the eyes of the able,
A parade of beautiful shapes,
Surrounding a malady,
A deadly lady, the Bella Donna,
With her dilated pupils and seductive looks,
They witnessed a deadly parade,
Everyone met with the deadly nightshade,
And they kissed her for luck,
And plucked her ripe fruits,
And hallucinated with her,
This was a tale of the dead,
And they would never see daylight
Fools who consumed nature's toxic,
They met the lovely 'belladonna',
They were after all, consumers of nature,
And now She consumes them back.
So here we are gathered in the rectangle plot,
The mood is somber under dark grey clouds,
A parade of lost souls under an earth lot,
I couldn't scream no more, as sand filled up my mouth,
I stopped and smelled the foul air,
Whatever that remained of it.
- Vijaya Balan © 2016
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 11:23 AM UTC
Electrons vibrate in the air,
Musty and foul in his lair,
Spiders crawl up and rats march the floor,
He gets a knock on his door
Flashes of memories linger,
His heart pounds with anger,
He crumples in anguish,
Death was his only wish.
The daily digest bore him with the rituals of rage,
The day masqueraded as time ticked for his age,
The radio blurted out static messages,
The speeches were of rage.
He opens the door, infallible and absent-minded,
The figure stood 8 feet tall,
Cloak and scythe, the usual routine,
Red sharp eyes peek out with an icy gaze,
“You wanted to take a shot?”
They found him dead on the floor,
He took up more space than he ever wished for,
Flies congregating where once there was a face,
Today the photos show his daze
He was the star of the masquerade,
The news of the digest,
People marched by in a parade,
The tortured soul laid to rest
Vijaya Balan (2010)
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 3:54 AM UTC
In the darkest hour the sliver of light pierces through,
Illuminating the bones of our truth,
Rearranged and remoulded by the sands of time,
Revealing its raw crevices for the world to see
They say it's darkest before dawn,
In the still of the night, they danced in unison,
Intertwining individuals intercepting fate,
Setting forth a fiery flame for all the pawns in this game
Carnal desire madly racing through their veins,
Pulsing the minutes as if life depended on it,
Passion enveloping the world only they could bear witness to,
As the crack of the moon dragged her blacks across the Jungian skies
They fight for the other like no other,
They will wait out stormy seas and torrents of trouble,
Where does faith lie but if not in their hearts that had been glued back?
For the bonds of love can weather through any matter.
~Vijaya Balan and Shalini Nayar
21.10.14
(c) 2014
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
The wind swept by in a gust,
The only sound in the deadly night
Rattling the branches and the leaves,
Sending a chill, cold and calm
He stood by in the distance,
Gazing up and down,
Then left and right,
Tonight is the night,
Where the city slept ever so peacefully,
Yet his mind drifted restlessly,
Tonight his mind and world crashed
The deserted street roads had a calming effect,
Why so? He did not know,
The bare shops and empty town painted a lonely picture,
Yet he was content to sit by and watch the picture dry,
He can sit by and watch it dry,
The picture in a distance of him and the world
**** them all,
The leaves danced in the windy night,
**** them blind,
To a melody in his wandering mind,
He sat with contempt and content,
Smirking at the forsaken city,
The lonely house by the beach,
Where the sands no longer shine in the dark,
The dark mansion stood a former ghost of itself,
Where now the paint peeled and the light dimmed,
He felt neither happy nor sad; he knew it was due
**** them all,
The distance tonight was the furthest,
**** them blind,
So far yet so near,
He felt the blood and tears of the past,
And laughed at the fate of the forsaken
He went back to sleep.
Peacefully.
**** them all.
Vijaya Balan (2009)
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
The room stood bare,
And the bed void of a mattress,
Where the rusty fan hanged,
Orange streaks of rust decorated it
Words have no place in this foul air,
The dark figure lay there silently,
The stench of death and misery,
The deafening silence of the night
He was more the merrier yesterday,
When he walked into his usual world,
To play with his roles in this drama of life,
To laugh and smile at the simple joys,
To cry and frown for the downfalls,
Wasn’t he supposed to pick up the pieces?
It hit him like lightning,
Of the past and the future,
Of what was and what was going to be,
Tears formed on the corner of his eyes,
He built his own fortress,
His walls of solitude,
Tuning out from the frequencies of the world
The race to the top no longer concerned him,
The books no longer interested him,
The movies of his stars bored him,
The tunes of his idols seemed soul-less
The phone rang away into the night.
His life flashed by,
The sacrifices and the gifts,
The hellos and the goodbyes,
The world that he ever saw,
Was the world that he got stuck in.
The silence was now all the gold,
The silence was what soothed him now,
The deafening comfortable silence,
The silence that took his life away,
The suicidal silence.
Vijaya Balan (2009)
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
They fall inconspicuously, these fleeting memories,
Racing against one another piercing the electric air,
Reaching the earth only to marry each other like a perfect jigsaw,
As they meander through the burgeoning of their beating hearts.
Where do beating hearts reside but in our guarded rib cages?
Vibrations tremble through them as our minds recall past ages,
A twinkle in their eyes, indicators of a point in time,
Where their memories converge and haughty hearts beat furiously.
It never came easy this journey, the path once strewn with things they wish they can take back,
Now strewn with things they never want to let go,
Found in one another as though they've always been there to be discovered
By the one that braves a thousand thunders as they clap through the cardiac waves, beating as one;
Fluidly shifting through dreams of despair and profoundly yearning for hope,
Embracing many potential endings ravenously, onto resilience,
Having eternally reached memories, infesting them
Planting new seeds of faith, erasing all that is dark and cold, but maintaining an authority of importance.
~Shalini Nayar & Vijaya Balan
5.11.14
(c) 2014
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
You build impressions and words in your mind,
Form dialogues and construct a tunnel,
"And that's how I will perceive you",
And that's what you will say day-to-day,
You were raised under the covers of your own,
You knew none of them truly nor deeply,
These empty thought bubbles,
Stop scribbling your lines on them,
Come forth and speak, know the person,
and the thought bubbles will burst with real words,
Ride out that tunnel,
you will see the Sun in a different angle,
and know that She shines for all,
Your world will not crumble,
For the roses, they grow in different parts of the world too,
Stop, smell and smile,
We never need to frown while wearing a crown,
They will rust all the same,
Break down your tunnel visions, we are riding on the same tracks,
We just come from a different station,
And we're all passengers heading our own way,
No harm in checking the scenery on the other side,
Stop, smell and smile.
- ©Vijaya Balan (2015)
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
He walked down an empty alleyway,
The streets had no name,
He can’t even remember anyway,
Nor does he want to know a name
The roads were decorated with garbage,
Human waste, and humans wasted,
Entrails of a dying age,
None of them ever lasted
Rolling tires and burnt cars,
A bar stood with blinking lights,
This town stands ashamed with scars,
Once an ardent bubble with bright lights
The traffic lights play their own synchronized beat,
With a song that he couldn’t hear,
The brownstone houses crumbled in the heat,
They sang a song he could hear
The town-hall had no living souls,
Everyone had disappeared after the plague,
This is a city with no more roles,
Even the signs are vague
A jolly amusement park with abandoned rides,
Now the clowns lay dead with hollow eyes,
Their smiles still gleaming with pride,
Their mouth whispering out flies
He picked up the pieces,
What he could find in his rotten home,
The door-bell and the number, he shot down to pieces,
The shotgun echoed throughout the dome,
A sign of his departure,
To the next living town,
Whistling, but watchful like a vulture,
Armed and onwards, to the next brown town,
Where the streets have no name,
Where the town has lost its fame,
Where he doesn't know a soul,
But he fills a void in his soul,
When he fills a void in your town,
Know then, to avoid your town,
Your town now goes to sleep,
A slumber that will be forever and deep.
- Vijaya Balan (2014)
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC