Sketch me a Poem

“You call yourself an artist? Hark!
You unsighted academician! Quit walking in the dark.
What are you doing, leading others into a pit?
A pit, where you hoard yourself and proudly sit!

Oh artist! Your canvas glistens with hue -
A red, a green, a yellow and a blue
So many shades…don’t they perplex you?
Multi-colored uncertainty…diplomacy’s back?
Where’s the certain? The white, the black?

You need to grow younger. Be a kid.
Be white. Be life. Hope like every toddler ever did.
Or maybe you need to grow older. Be aged.
Be black. Be death. Be an old bird – lifeless and caged.

Color’s not what I want, I say!
Simplicity, certainty…that’s the call of the day.
You’re blinded, as you search the ivory tower for enchanted musk.
I don’t understand your search…your dawn; nor your dusk.

I see things only in simplicity,
Complex forks and dead-ends better left out of my kitty.
My day lives only in its extremes - a white morn, a black night.
Your thousand colors of twilight are just not right.

You’re an artist of mixed hues, of unanswered questions.
You’re an ace diplomat, of twilight-ed, setting or rising suns.
Give me an answer! All the truths! I wanna know ‘em!
Be an artist of words, sketch me a poem.

Be a painter of certain, true words,
Draw me a poem of black and white birds –
The ones that fly into wrongs or rights,
And know no skies of uncertain, grayish whites.

I am tired of your “…there are no right answers, you see…”
Can’t you do a small favor for me?
Be a fisher of certainty,
Fish me the dark black sea.

I prefer to drown in decisive, salty waters
Than live in bleak, uncertain matters.
You see no lighthouse, you are so lost!
And so am I. You’re a sinking ship, getting old at my cost!

Be a playful kid on a beach of twilight,
And carry in your pockets just some sandy white…
Just a wrong. Maybe a right.
Be an adventurous village urchin, fly me a liberated kite.”

I use many words to express what I want to say.
I am the king of wordiness. Brevity isn’t my thing. Nay.
He answers only in a few words, this artist of mine.
He even throws my poem into a bin. I feel like a poor kid working at shoe-shine.

He says, “Be a sailor, set off on a curious ferry.
Fight the grays, and find your black in perpetual inquiry.”

He says, “Be a soldier, shun all fear, shun all pretence.
Fight the odds, and find your white in reckless patience.”

He says, “Be a student, forever in search of what is right.
Fight the maybes, and find your monochromatic light.”

I retort, “How can you say that?”

He says, “I was just like you,
I started off as a painter…with the red, green and blue.
But as I have grown, I’ve forgotten to paint. Just sketching, just a pencil.
I have only a pot of blacks and whites to show. Not another utensil.”

I object, “Why must I go a full circle? I am already there!”

He smiles with kindness, and knows he’s got me thinking.
“The sea’s calling. Set off, face the winds, the storms, the near-sinking.
You need to sail off into the gray waters of doubt.
That will give you your answers. There’s no easy way out.
It will be quite an experience! Start the colorful journey,
Tell me what you saw, and tell me what you did not see.
Go, my son. Sail the colors, and return to the white and black.”
So, I’m off on my journey. One day, I too will say, “Been there, done that!”

What silence plays

Garrulous insecurity hollers, only ungratified uncertainty speaks,
Transient relationships babble, only an untuned instrument peaks.
Conversely, security sits on solemn ground…devoid of any iota of sound…
Perpetual kinship lulls and hushes, resounding silence quietly touches
A serene instrument - playing only mute, tranquil notes…tacit music, assuredly dotes.
Where’s the beauty in a shouting chant? Silent music does what brassy orchestras can’t.
So, imbibe the crux of what I tell you – look at relationships from an ameliorated, “forever” view;
For, you haven’t been in a real relationship; you haven’t heard it all…till you’ve heard silent music’s perpetual call.

Gim & Jim

Context: This is a true incident, and the poem is adapted from an excerpt of the conversation I had with Gim (the cat) in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. I have used exact words from the conversation, except for one part where Gim says, "...I deserve my food." She actually said, "...I deserve my food and more!" What? Cats don't talk human? Maybe...but I talk cat!
~~~
Gim showed up a bit sulky,
Her fur was unruly and head was bulky.
I asked her, “Hey Gim, haven’t seen you around in six long hours!
You look terrible! Did you get soaked in one of those Tennessee showers?”

She complained, “He scolded me out of here…quite a cold place to be!
I didn’t see it coming, but he could have, couldn’t he?
He does this for fun, I have no doubt;
Knew it was raining, but he still sent me out!”

I said, “I hear your loud shout,
But who are you talking about?
Do I know him?”
“Of course”, she replied, “It’s my good-for-nothing master, Jim.”

“…and that’s not all. He shut the door and chased me off,
As if it was my birthright to hear him scoff.
It’s Christmas season, and all year, I’ve been good.
All I know is that I deserve my food.”

“When I ask for a small treat,
He does not even budge from his seat.
When I ask for tilapia or salmon, he avoids me,
Looks at me in disbelief, and says, “We’ll see…””

“The other day, two fish from his fish-pond disappeared.
The blame was on me, and that’s what I feared!
I’m no thief, I’m no liar. Please believe what I say,
It was a bird that grabbed the fish and flew away.”

“He tells me I’m inflating like a gas balloon,
And says, “Gim, go to the gym or you might take off soon.”
Now, what does a cat care about a slimming diet?
And that’s the main reason for this fight!”

“But there are other reasons that make me mad,
I tell you, I’m the best cat anyone’s ever had.
Sure, I laze around and drink from the toilet,
But then, no one is perfect.”

“Gim!? What kind of a name is that?
The neighborhood cats roll on the floor, asking, “Gim? You sure you’re a cat?
We don’t mean to be rude,
But your name sounds like Chinese food!””

“Sometimes, when I hang out by the lawn floor
Or by the garage door,
I’m partially fed. Food’s not on my mind like before.
Some pampering and a nice rub is all I ask for.”

“I have a shiny black coat, green eyes and cute paws.
I’m so peaceful. I even have blunt jaws.
Gim and attention. Gim and food. It’s an obvious link.
I deserve some pampering, don’t you think?”

I said, “I think you should run away never to return.
A cat like you isn’t meant to kvetch and burn.
I hope you don’t die on the way and do get lucky with a master someday…
Well, if it helps, you have nine lives anyway.”

She exclaims, “I thought all humans were dumb but I’d say,
Your idea seems to be good. I must leave right away.
If you’ll excuse me, I’ll pack up and soon be gone,
I might take the Greyhound to Pittsburgh or to Sierra Leone.”

I ask, “Gim, before you leave, an answer to my questions can you give?
It’s not you, it’s me. You see, I’ve always been very inquisitive.”
“Sure, go ahead…but if you do, promise me that
you’ll buy me my ticket. You see, I’ve always been a very poor cat.”

“Sure”, I affirm. “Errr…how long have you known Jim?
What on earth made you stick with him?
If he doesn’t feed you well, how is it that you’re putting on weight?
And what about your religion, salvation and fate?”

She replied, “It’s been over 600 days
Since fate crossed our ways.
I was pathetic, homeless and lonely,
And thought this would be a decent place to be.”

“I know it was radical, and it was risky.
It was like mixing vodka, rum and whiskey!
But I felt right, happy and rich, though he didn’t give me any money.
Loneliness is a strange thing…It is scared of company.”

“I am lucky actually. Most cats are not. Their luck doesn’t last.
Say, with this running away thing, I might’ve jumped the gun too fast.
The meals were not frequent but they were full.
Was I complaining about them? I am such a fool!”

“Before I met Jim, I was a sinner.
My faith was thin, and my religion was thinner.
Now, I get to meet my spiritual side that helps me cope.
I’ve become a holy cat, and that has renewed my hope.”

She walks away, and says, “As for the Greyhound, I might pass.
Keep the ticket money. I think I am thinking clearly at last.
I’m not going anywhere. You must be out of your mind,
Jim’s a kind of friend that’s very hard to find!”

~~~~~~~~~