A haiku and some thoughts — gently, gracefully pirouettes ballerina hungry grub guffaws — Aparna

Some divergent thoughts about Storge¹ — A Son’s Love She came home from work, and bumped into her son. He too had just returned. “Mamma I went for a walk. I got you a bouquet! You can take pictures, if you like. Be careful! I haven’t tied it. I put some grass in as well! They were growing by the road. I…

A haiku — Perched on swamped tree trunk basking in warm rays of sun wise turtle thinks deep — Aparna There have been turtles for as long as humans have walked the Earth. Some turtles are said to live over a 100 years. Stories of turtles abound in Zen, Buddhist and Hindu literature. …

Invitation to participate in research survey — Dear friends, I hope you consider helping me with some important research on COVID-19’s impact on our lives and careers. I hope you are asking, What research? I am partnering with my colleague at The Transition Institute and researchers at Simmons University (Boston), to study the Impact of the COVID-19…

When the family oak falls, the nest burns. Yet life goes on… — At his pyre, as she watched him merge with the ashes of strangers, she stood witness to the grotesque, naked dance of humanity. The ego, the avarice, the duplicity. The cruelty we ‘humans’ are capable of. All played out with apathetic panache. The Death of illusions! Curtain call for charades. Mutely she watched her puny terracotta Gods, topple and…

A poem and essay about Philautia¹ (self-love) — The phoenix rose from its ashes, and soared high. So will I. See not the fallen tree in me. But the graceful bird, reborn — spreading its wings, poised for take off… — Aparna Some Context Images stored for posterity The phoenix, in Greek mythology (with parallels in many cultures), was an immortal bird that cyclically…

A poem about Agape¹ — Who so heartless, as to not break into a sonnet, when greeted by views this divine? The world broke my heart, over and over again. But the universe refuses to disappoint. — Aparna

A poem about the cycle of life and the pursuit… — She got off the battered boat — a nubile maiden, self-conscious and demure. Tremor on her lips, shoulders hunched, head bowed. Her guileless heart aflutter with nervous trepidation — uncharted adventure just begun. A path strewn with petals, romances, prizes galore or nightmares untold? Inspiration for Austen, Brontë, or fodder for Kafka, Poe? Who…