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Friday, April 10, 2015

Poetry- The Ethics and Learnings

Take into consideration that a poet has to master or 'know' what poetry is, how to read poetry, what to read and in which order, how to write, who a poet is, imagery (seven kinds), all the figures of speech like metaphor, metonymy, personification, simile, symbols, allegory, understatement, hyperbole, irony (3 kinds), musical devices like rhythm, stanza, meter, accent, stress, rime, alliteration, assonance, consonance, onomatopoeia, euphony, cacophony, dissonance, melody ,harmony, meanings, sound, tones, voice/s, style/s, structures, forms, allusion, patterns, organization, design, art, artlessness, order, chaos, presence, absence, diction, vocabulary, syntax, grammar, layers of significance, denotation, connotation, atmosphere, ambiance, moods, themes, settings, points of view, narrative techniques and along with this have social, economic, mythical, archetypal, political, religious, national, psychological, philosophical, sociological, aesthetic merits and depths in terms of content meaning he must know Life and emotions and feelings for the heart and then write poetry that partakes to the best of his abilities in all this and more and one can see why poetry is a very high calling second only to godliness. A great or real or genuine or sincere poet is therefore a real god or creator, no doubt, second only to God.

Complete Autism

I could not explain to anyone else but could to him.
I could put him on my lap.
He would not be listening, seemingly.
That did not matter.
I would talk, do the talking, as he would not or could not anyway. Except in his own language that I and others could not follow.
You see, darling, I would tell him, there are these pieces of paper that matter a lot to people on earth.
Yes, I know you and I are not from this planet. But they are. And they value these pieces of paper highly and assign different values to them. I never understood any of it.
I have to make lots of them to give you and your chichis and mom a good life.
For that I have to stay away from you.
Cos in the place I go to leaving you behind though that makes you and me lose out they give me more pieces of paper for same amount of work I would do here or less and those pieces of paper that I cannot read are ones that can be multiplied into even more pieces of paper here where you are, which in turn supposedly gives you all a better life though i have no idea if it is better or worse.
Do you get me?
He would not reply, of course, Or even bother to look at me, but he would sometimes look at me out of the corner of his eyes and smile or laugh and that was God smiling or laughing, if God exists.
Both of us got nothing except that it was nice to sit there with him on my lap.
Whoever had laughed at me and him had been right.
Just like him I had never belonged
Just like him, almost, those pieces of paper meant nothing to me
We would never amount to anything much, him and me, or if we did it would be by some fluke that people called the grace of God.
But we both valued those times with him sitting on my lap.
Pity that chasing those pieces of paper gave me so little of it and him.
Pity that I was not as far gone as he was to tear them up or make paper boats out of them given the chance.





PS: All the posts in "Autism" and "Rejected Stuff" category are very close to my heart as they are conclusions of the various discussions I had with people of different ages on Facebook.

PPS: This stuff is written by a gentleman and a very good friend of mine.I just did the proof reading and SEO work. 

PPS:It is published here on my blog to spread love,happiness and awareness about Autism.The unique thing about written content is that it is applicable to people of all generations.

The Father And The Son

The father who had no money
saw a bike leaned against a wall
took his small son, put him on it
and went with him
several times around the block
Later, when he came back
to replace it
the bike owner slapped him hard
but the son was not there to see
so the dad's heart still sang inwardly
though his cheek was stinging red.