Madhu Goteti
Bio
The thrums in the strums and the delights in the humdrum of life have always fascinated me.
It’s that feast of reason and flow of soul; in all that I see and all that I shall behold!
I am an avid lover of art and philosophy!
Stories (120)
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A Stand in the Impalpable voids! It’s Stone Cold 🥶
Sustainability is a virtue if you may believe. In regards to that, I have stood up a little longer than expected. Herein, I stand tall over fairest mountainous 🏔️ summits, at the foot of which stretch gurgling waters shaped into springs, and then, through the rivers, brooks and rivulets, I stream ( not scream,) furthering furthest into neighborhood creeks. Far away across those bold barriers of the rocky cliffs, 🪨nurtured in nature’s valleys and amidst thousands of huge chunks of icicles --dripping through the roofs, I stand erect guarding the entrance of an impalpable void. Resting next to me is a glacier. To the east is a high soaring cloud casting shadows like a sentinel lighting some holy city. Thereupon throwing broader reflections over the plains , much closer to the barren lands, there is this powdery snowy peak, never melting under the sun’s sizzling heat. Amidst those higher up highs, there's a pinnacle,brighter than bright . It's there, in that reposing void of heavenly skies, a sheer strength belies ; an environ studded in mystique, and into which, the solemnity of peace bespeaks Lain alike and fallen silent over the poppy fields, and yet upon the graves in grooves abounds a tranquil ; flapping it’s wings along a luminous course that's all marked in white. Until..... Such a magnificence (in gaze ) is met by a wanderer seeking the fairest verdant lawns of heavenly bliss ; for in that exists the glory of heaven trapped in a moment's deceit!
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Fiction
Misplaced Word
In thinking of the right words to say , I know, I may not sound like what you may want me to say. Whether at home or living abroad,(“comfortably,”with words,)one may wonder about the moronic silences that can creep in between the said-unsaid. And also, as in the trotting troopship, some words can lecture into passages, exchanging new forms, imagery or even a new meaning, shot up as a necessity of being on the “same-page,”day or age. You may say —Oration is not for the faint hearted, and rationing it,calls for an absolute discretion. Thus, engaging in this “tag game,” of verbal exchanges, one can experience the effect of adventure, total amazement or even staggered bewilderments. So here the course can take on any “object,” (of perception,) and plant it over any other imaginative state💭of objective- subjective existence. And herein arrives the “misplaced word,” acting up to the displaced “subjective-objective field,” of metaphoric arrays, fitting closely as it ever may. And in trying to be most —deep and clear, the word as an object, can get obliquely opaque in stating that which it is representative of saying, anyways. What’s there in this “gaming-naming,” fame— you may ask?! The ruling signifier in this gaming-naming process is a contraption, perhaps, like a metamorphosis, wildly given as a transformative imagery symbolically passed on as a customary causation. Hopefully not a casualty. For example,look at the aspect of this simple erudition conveyed in the following poem — With withered leaves I weave my boat and seemingly float it on the vast I know not how to swim , ‘coz they know not how to cast —💫✨ 🧡🦢🦢🦢🧡 ✨💫 An Omnibus of thought 💭 July 18th,2021 ✍️ © Madhu Goteti Symbolically, the preceding can ( in all frankness,) be perceived , perhaps, on different accounts of notions and perceptions. The opacous turbidity in those words could be deciphered either as a gray or a grey matter all the way, which “while being read as an “object,”of imagination, could be seen as a misplacement , displacement, approbation or even appropriation of words, displayed in so many alternative ways. And for the seeding growth seeking consanguinity with the world of illusive logics, translucency can get tied to the space- time or time-spaced passage. That makes a world of difference! There are no two thoughts to it ! “Quae visa placent,” says St. Thomas Aquinas —which literally implies that “objects,” have the power to please. Hence, a perceived object can only be —“that much appealing,” in as much as it impresses the eyes of the beholder. And done with skill, “object- words”can be equally gratifying but only to the extent that they succeed in seeking the approval of the mind’s eye. So, clearly, goodness in words or word objects seem evident in the way they reveal themselves in sight and most of all, the context of the revealing situation. Therefore, misplaced words ( objects) can be both panoramic and equally startling in our grander understanding of things and contexts. For example the word-object named Apple 🍎 in the context of it’s appearance takes on a different connotation in the book of genesis. In fact the Apple’s 🍎 whole tendency gets associated with a prohibitive act against it’s consumption. First, it becomes a source of pleasure and then, it gets traced to a sort of subjective—objectification by the beholder ; a matter of suggestive effect depicted and portrayed in it’s very nature , manner and composition. So on account of discrimination painted against Apple 🍎, I protest ! Why should mankind give a far lesser or greater personification to objects on their own accord. How can such a brutal cynicism be placed upon Apples 🍎. How can humanity ,in its search for elevated ideals ,hold restrictive orders over apples and also simultaneously, manger upon it as the last hope towards survival before calling in a doctor. I mean what kind of antithetical paradox could it be when apples 🍎 are seen as doubly pleasing in this either/or “never to be taken or eaten,” ways. Tell me, why was this unusual magnificence imposed upon Apples 🍎 in order to produce such an internal elevation of mind and touted human virtues . I am astonished 😯 especially when Apple’s solemness was casted away much as much it shows it’s proclivity in seizing diseases, delineated as in the following proverb : “an Apple 🍎 a day keeps the doctor away. “ Far more than anything, some objectified words ( such as Apples 🍎) can create a sense of “paradise lost,” effect. Think 💭 about it?! And , then again, going forward with other fruit comparisons , Apples could be facing a “step-sisterly” steerage while being gauged against , let’s say, a bunch of grapes 🍇. Principally, that synthesis could bring in a vast vague order by pressing discriminatory charges against mankind for making Apples 🍎 appear more impure than it’s compatriot kin —the grape🍇. So words and objects when left unhinged upon earthly can have a disastrous effect. Isn’t that a dangerous provocation in itself. To that point, an understanding would place a greater honor, than any ardent speech made out in the open —like this. None the less, some words can confer specific intents —more so, when delivered (in time,) to meet, all the sensory modalities in the context. And then , for a formulation to make an unguent speech effect, the mind may ,at times, relinquish the beseeching cogito’s scripted concept. In doing so, the intellect impedes”will,” to catch up with all matters, bringing wherewithal skill to it’s perfection’s best. In Expression! Yeah! It’s then and there, the right flow of rhetoric comes in alive ,as in, a fresh breath of air. 😊 Signing off with Free Speech while keeping an eye 👁️ over “misplaced —word-objects,” which may be at the brink of making perspicacious mistakes. —💫✨ 🧡🦢🦢🦢🧡 ✨💫 Jan 31st, 2024 ✍️ © Madhu Goteti
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Fiction
𝕬 𝕿ête-à-𝕿ête 𝖂ith 𝕹ature !
𝕬midst those valleys of windflowers umpteen and, 𝕭etween those boudoirs of bucolic scenes 𝕮almly lain is my “La Grange" serene 𝕯ressed so green ; all decked to be redeemed …it’s there…where… 𝕰xquisite in splendors casts surreptitiousness supreme 𝕱or in that silence, I read of that, which is unforeseen 𝕲oing as far and as it c'd be totally weened… 𝕳eavenly—unto which, such sacredness convenes, and where… 𝕴n faintest whispers cedars sing… 𝕵ust on course, a tender tendril comes swishing in; 𝕶issing humming hopes over those enchanted rings 𝕷ying here and there, are trails of celestial screens 𝕸arvelous as beyond , nobody’s seen… 𝕹ot as far over those seas of bluebonnets terrine, 𝕺, Originating from plummets in tides of deep-blues over sea- greens, and 𝕻ristine is peace lingering over those regaling themes… 𝕼uintessential it is to any reapers’ glean, 𝕽idden in faint fragrances, there’s a charm in each dwelling, 𝕾liding with the winds, raptured over swaying strings, ‘𝕿was on point, beholding magical themes —from this land to that turf of glistening gleams, 𝖀shering graces lain across in early spring 𝖁enturing further on, 𝖂ith primroses and horsemints lain across every scene, 𝖃-traordinary, 𝖄et, as yonder’s, 𝖅enith, O! so pristine!
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Poets
Oath: Until death do us ‘part
Dear Reader, Now you can imagine how they( those words,) could have independently frolicked around with typos; widely disseminating—not mine, not mine to every other skipped thought taken to mean as immaculate conception. So, to that, Our Lady of Scared Heart — please bring in peace, purposefully pieced and meaningfully released to mend invective misgivings. Misnomer Disclaimed: With no disclosure to whosoever’s exposure, I shall club ✨ reason and remain alive in every other active reflection. Promise that I shall earnestly try! This year watch me incessantly indite.And that’s sure to claim any philosopher’s glide through life. 🖋️ 📜 For the most part,I wish to alight, arise in all my might, awakened by insight ,and with it, hopefully 🤞find punctuality marching towards, the right-write or still bettering, write- right. So, for all that to take it’s proper flight, possibly—, my consanguineous thumb 👍 might collaborate with creativity, all along, all through my life’s line. And perhaps, that shall make everything conducive, for those dead words to come alive. Promissory note: I won’t cuss anybody ( neighbors included) who may come in the way of keeping my connection with the words aright. Call me a radical seeker. But most certainly, I shall not take my writings as some “fool’s proof exam ,” to practice and illustrate “kamikaze,” taking lunges ( of course with plunges adroit) out of sight. Rather honestly, I shall take my writings to another side. I would describe my writing endeavors as an apothecary ( medicine and meditation 🧘♀️) to be precise; exacting relief from respite; with nothing more nor nothing less to prescribe. Delineated so, it shall aim to make everyone feel more energized. As an accountability buddy 💪, VOICE holds up a special place for me. Please represent me as mine and also present my soul to other beautiful insights. I am literally banking on you for that ! And by “that, “ meaning: that , which should not come off as bandy to the dignified; almost anybody seen as characteristically—very polite. Summing up to that: My spirit in nature has a tendency to smile at every paradoxical catastrophe. I can be dangerously outspoken and ceremoniously talkative. So please 🙏 play me down for the better good to rise in others —religiously. This year, I hope to meet some fantabulous minds, sharing delights through their own workings. Thus far, my readings on VOICE platform have led me to some impressive writings. Fellow compatriots were quite reflective with their own expressive, stylized contents. I was both moved and inspired by them. I hope to keep that going and read more intently though. This year , personally, I hope to embrace the free flowing grace of Benedictine erudition and scale it ( hopefully) to new heights. I would like to write as often as time permits me to scribe. God only knows when ?! But , I promise to be more regular with the habit of shaping thoughts and ideas to some fruitions. So, find me together with you in giving meaning and form to the formless. Again , to that, I don’t hope to be succinct as ever since my imagination has a tendency to run wild in the vacant spaces of my mind🤟. Pray 🙏 🤲 that my visualizations rise up and stay with it —the radiant consciousness. May any banal mystery, less than necessary, keep itself away from taking control over me and mine, which includes thee and thine. 💫 ✨🧡🦢🦢🦢🧡 ✨💫 © ✍️Madhu Goteti,Jan 15th,2024. P.S: Within the compass 🧭 of my abilities, I shall understandably scribe and labor on to reach the marvelous destination of—appealing to some traveler’s eyes. Wondering 💭 will I or won’t I, wouldn’t cross my mind. Most truly, the syllable of the matter and the point of contention 🙋🏻♀️ remaining@ : Could I be a dunderhead or will I be made into one :) There, That firmament of doubt shall remain ostracized! I will survive !
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Writers
The Finishing Line!
Characters Beautifully bubbly Gloria Estefan; Brutally Brilliant,Ted Berne; Neurotically gregarious,Gerard; One fine morning two persons set forth in their usual quest of making a living. For a while, they had both reveled upon the idea of a good life.In some ways, they were quite alike; fully focused and devout in their work. Every day, for the most part, they were glued to their undying routines. And, to say the least ,their habitual inurements were becoming a sort of second nature to 'em ; making 'em stick to their beliefs. Day to day, their lives were ‘getting more and more centered around getting one job done, and then, moving to the next. And with each new task seemingly groaning as an ole hackneyed trite , it somehow, fetched them that utmost fervid pride. Perhaps, the two of them were so natural and so close to what propitiated them to have fully “arrived.” By nature ,the young man, Ted Berne, could be seen as a simple modest guy, and the lady named Gloria Estefan, was recklessly bold and obstinate in her instincts.For a long time, at length, they were lost in their own practices, so much so, that they were almost surfeiting sentiments to a reclusive demure. He was a doctor by profession and she a stage performer. And there they were, as it seemed, a match made in heaven , yet born to be lured to the elegant guiles of the unforeseen. And much so, an unimaginable thing happened one early sunny morn . The sun was rising bright thro' the crimson hues set afar at the oceanic bay . The horizon looked thrilled at the sight of every kindled ray. At that moment, Ted and Gloria came forth into the streets of NYC, and for what it appeared, they were both on an early morning jog -trot-retreat. It was a sort of wayfarers way of taking in some fresh air in order to get that much needed rest and relief. Being an early Sunday morn ,there was hardly any rush in the streets. No traffic.Every sound of the workday week had gotten arrested in a bliss. No hustle-bustle of the passersby, no rattling of the vehicular screech ! "It is a land of opportunity,” pondered Gloria as she gathered her steps to sprint up to a steady speed. Up ahead, at a furlong distance, Ted was winding down to a slower pace after his long rigorous jogging fleet. Ted was literally “beating retreat,” to his morning excursion as Gloria swiftly passed him by. Strolling along the street,he was now taking extra time to notice his surroundings a lil bit more intently. As he took his stride towards the bridge, he noticed Gloria gathering quite a pace ahead of him. He watched her slowly fade away but, somehow, his gaze stuck with her. But in all this, a fact was jarringly evident. Ted was getting weirdly restless after seeing Gloria. A feeling that he c’d neither resist nor overlook. "Wow, “ he said. “ Who was the person who just passed me by. She surely exudes a verve quite different from the others. Her stamina and strength surpasses the ordinary,” Ted reflected. Then, in the next instance , he withdrew his thoughts and tried swallowing those affixed notions. For years, due to the nature of his activities, he was predisposed towards noticing the weaknesses and strengths in his patients. And now, he was,once more, turning towards reading and redeeming magnanimous virtues of some stranger in the street. “Why am I meddling with this constant obsession trying to act aright for the mankind ? When will I learn to overlook and stop overloading myself with the role of the “ultimate benefactor,” driving away the infirmities and frailties of others. I am no god. Shouldn’t I steer away from these dastardly duties and open up to doing something else.” Thinking so, Ted continued on his riviera of exploring and spreading the arch of his wonderment.. A fiesta --along those city lines , or so it seemed, and though, it was strange and inappropriate to his usual demeanor, he continued to bulwark thro' it obstinately. In ways this was allowing him to seek —that much needed respite—not to mention—relief! Night before , Gloria , had grabbed a role of a dainty French lady ,all casted in that finesse jewelry, but awkwardly sounding like a comical misery. Her script was a thousand pages long, and she didn't seem to be fitting in with the role. Moreover, she lingered far too long deciphering the dialogues alongside the things she had to say. The script didn’t draw out her best. Instead, she was barfing out ,every word, with that distinct verbiage, readily undulating in a clumsy manner. Anyhow, she regurgitated it all out—in one go, and finally, ‘left the rehearsals—literally—at bay. But that was the upper story. Unknowingly there was a decreed epiphany that Gloria was about to face. Soon she was to be subjected to an unfathomable change. It was like a “boom,” striking at her from nowhere. The most euphemistic way of putting that would be —“ a sleuth of fate,” launched and unicamerally hooked her to it. Unfortunately she was not aware of it coming. What she was about to experience ,shortly, was nothing less of another staged landing ; except that , it was of a different sort, with plot lines opening up to multitudinous fields. A mystery she was —yet to live, to believe! For now, sublimely she felt her thoughts were reading—half and half, through the scripted soliloquy of the previous day ; reciting and making virtues of everything that was necessary while she peacefully jogged along the sideways. Then , abruptly, an intuition slow coached her instincts. But unconvinced, she skittishly kinked her imagination, as though, engulfing some hot and cold play, all at once. Gloria felt stiffly held up while fielding such fierce opposition of mind over matter. Reluctantly, her crotchety mind hinged upon stubborn lolligags ; bestowing a unique method in madness. Inadvertently she found herself,unconsciously correcting the dialogues that were impinging upon her . Yes she was groping unduly! During her last rehearsal , her stint on stage, was an overcompensatory act , emerging irreproachably as a stunt, gnawing at her soul. She wanted to do better at her work. This morning, however, her audacious spirit was rising and she was recalling her arguments with Gerard ( scriptwriter) from the previous day. And then, a smirk appeared on Gloria’s face. A memory flashed across. She recalled the way she had corrected the playwright. “ This script needs urgent edits,” she had implored. Gloria’s urgency had rolled out as a command than request, and she felt vehemently pressed to say—“Hey, Gerald , these words sound offensive to ears polite. Could you please express this sentiment in another way.” “Somebody stole my car while I was wandering around completing this script last night,” Gerard spoke indignantly.” Right after that, he h’d jumped further to explain himself out. Gloria recalled how Gerard bustled forward and remarked in that horrendous tone—“ A cop came and took me to jail. Some enquiries were being made. I ain’t had a chance to get the damn thing off my mind, least to mention, taking a look at this script. You always come through as a pinch, Gloria.” To that , mumbling to herself Gloria had stepped away momentarily. She had stopped herself from correcting the errors in the script even though the entire narrative strangely swung between peddlers flash tongue and the queens speech. The recitation had felt very inappropriate to her but she had to put up with it. Strangled by words in that way, everything was failing to reach her senses. But leaning forward , she found herself disappearing into that florid rhetoric, which almost extended as an euphuist's essay . Reckoning ahead and disappointed by the charging rants and ramblings of Gloria, Gerard too had blurted out repress less—“do that please, or else I will pull my hair. That’s my ink 🖋️ which dissolved in water and concealed that which you were so ardently wanting to express. Now please 🙏 stand clear of that snooty act and behave.” And such so, Gloria found herself screaming into that problematic prose, with Gerard running mad at every call of her smarts. Apparently so, looking at them arguing, the rest of the people on the sets were giving them merry chuckles. Every other day , during rehearsals, the entire enactment turned into this pious recounting of amateur writings, incidentally inciting comic humor. In that sense, Gloria wasn't happy about her dialogue delivery but, the show had to go on as Christmas was drawing near. Perhaps, curtains had to be soon drawn up for public entertainment. But surprisingly, this Sunday morn ,Gloria wasn’t feeling any of that frivolous fickleness riding over her head. It was her day off. The becalming breeze was soothing her senses and the air was brushing her face to place some sort of a special honor. She was glowing ! The lovely lady was rejoicing in her spirits and she continued to stride through. Then along the coast , stretching out into the bay , she sailed away, catching every bit of freshness there. Meanwhile, Ted was prowling steadily towards her. His eyes were following along in a feverish excitement. He tried to locate her thro ' the visibility of the morning mist. . She ,on the other hand, was barging ahead with her ever-lengthening strides and quickly approached a slope down the lane. In a literal sense, now, the space between them was extending and they were almost at a disappearing point of sight . Ted’s attention got diverted by a procession of sea gulls passing by. These birds crackled amidst the soundscape ,as if, they were constantly chatting away. Ted looked at the blue depths of the waters and wandered along the shore. Sooner than later, he got mesmerized by the beauty of the autumn trees lining the bay. The gushing winds stirred the leaves and a potpourri of scents captured him spontaneously. Gently he put himself at ease and momentarily drifted away. A blissful peace surrounded him. The magical view of the rising sun and the spectacular sea felt ,as perfect as, it could ever be. And in that one moment, he allowed himself to sink in, and a joyous feel exuded through this alluring scene. And then, things changed. Evidently destiny was fabricating it’s own way through his thoughts. Somehow, automatically, his mind drew upon Gloria's subtle beauty, flashing across his mind--- ever so passionately. "I shall remember those looks ,even though, I wonder why our eyes met ," he mused silently to himself. And then , left alone in the wee hours of tranquil, Ted stepped up his pace in the direction where he had last seen Gloria. By then, she had caught up quite a distance. Invariably, Ted wanted to catch a glimpse of her again. Once more, he felt the urge to engross himself in silly nothings . Those natural organic seduction games were striking at him from nowhere. He had pledged never to go that route especially after his previous break up. Yet, in that moment, fate was taking its impish turn. It was playing its deceiving games of irony, and he was getting carried away. Gloria,on the other end, was pursuing her way and continued to jog. Within no time she had turned the corner at the far end and started reverting back. In a short while, she was at a visible from Ted. He looked up and noticed her looking at him. This, of course , led him to pace up further. "O! She's closer than I c’d have ever wished for. Not too far gone. " he exclaimed. Gloria , meanwhile , was making the most of her way inwards , and was, advancing along the narrow footpath by the sea wall ; unseen and concealed but, consciously determined to finish her jog and return to her apartment soon. She was a furlong away from her destination . "Let me take a cut across the road! ,” said the young lady. But thereupon awaited a tragedy. Next moment, her breath fluttered as she seized it in a sigh. Ever determined to set forth on her last lap by the river side, she leaped. But, fleeting along, she heard the laments of her soul sinking into poetic verses . Unknowingly she started reciting this ominous poesy. O! Live long, night and fondly day coming along most in usurping pace One hour after drawn in haste, O there comes another as fleets of waves Then unceasingly gone , begone, not to stay! Yet until the last syllable of ever—that “ever-never,” fades Yeah, far afar into that distant bay… Oft upon saunters sleepless in face And, in all this and more, where stillness doth stray; Solemnly bidden to that committed pace And Upon Oath as head shall answer ; unto faith as it pledges it's way Hurray ! Hurray ! Hurray! For now, I shall leap redoubling my pace, while thee may — Gather those mysterious forays, And from this day to that day ; just in time, Noticing -every other-ancient ray! Yeah, holding that torchlight steadily upright To unravel forever, in this heavenly space And, in such lengthening strides my resolve shall ever ride, doubling itself, in it’s ever determined ways. The next moment, suddenly a car sped out of the mist, and recklessly ran its arbitrary course with no stoppage. Seemingly, it’s breaks had failed! Thrown out of gear, the vehicle shuffled its way over the curb and moved higgledy- piggledy towards Gloria. Impervious to her surroundings , she didn't notice the car in her pathways. Before she could realize anything, she got pitilessly pulled into the chaos. A bit far in the distance, Ted , heard the noise of the loud screechy collision. Within moments, an eerie calm vaulted itself in reverie, and everything turned topsy- turvy. Gloria lay there in an accident with her body twisted under the rubble ..Blood oozed out of her body. In a reflex, she tried to move but found herself tragically tangled in the grips of enormous misery. Then, her senses got shrouded into stillness ,and one by one, a lull faintness started engulfing her. Soon, every noise seemed muffled , as though, every imagery was dancing back in ebb. Something let stupor agape into her face and slipped into further arrest. Subsequently ,her heartbeat lulled and she abruptly forged into silence. For a moment, a strange creepiness spread in the air. But somebody rushed up to the accident spot ,and immediately called for a cab ...With the headlights piercing through the glow of the dawn, the cab driver took Gloria to the nearby hospital. All of a sudden, things had changed in a wink of an eye . That’s how nature plays it's unexpected, hideous games. The sight of the accident was gory and it was threateningly sucking the joy out of life. Ted hastened towards the sight to catch a glimpse. The Imminent danger of what could have happened to Gloria gave him a shudder. A vacant stare and a look of terror coursed through his eyes. Shocked by what he had witnessed, Ted drew over his breath and mumbled to him — “Free! Her body and soul must be free! Beyond that bitter moment , he curbed himself from imagining anything else. Massive flames 🔥 had erupted within seconds, and Gloria was gone. Or so it seemed. The morning local news spoke about the incident briefly. The incident got crushed-hushed, amidst a world of other matters broadcasted. For the next couple of days, Gloria’s entity remained unseen and none of her colleagues at the theatre had any clue about her whereabouts.
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Criminal
A Crystalline Wave All Around
The moon soars high up the ground,As high o'er the black soots as the midnight takes on, While timbers along creeks, crackle all around Heavy on whites a smoke billows phantoms, O! Look! Slow in the meadows, a mist, silently drifts along, And Beneath - those rested rocks and hardened logs 🪵, a creepy cold, waits upon .... There, buried in deep, many emotions , have farthest gone ...Waited as weary, long to time, never to be found ; To be or not to be —there—as time rolls on Now, for those unheard poundings so vagrant bound, Let go of that course, writhing over twisted grounds, And please awaken from matters that so —so tug you down, O! Let go , That Once upon! And ‘So Risen, in grace with spirited winds, emerge thro' cracks —heretofore—to a new day’s dawn; Carrying ever more wings over ever greater - leaps ,above and beyond! Yes, Laying aside broody blues, submersible at seas , just cross beyond, whereupon, Saying one thing in terms of another, but as is , rightly said -leaving love more abler than before—theretofore— In all aspirations, yea sh’d live on!
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Poets
Identity
Identity Into dying arms of fate my mien was staged stillborn As topsy-turvy over twisted brows, inlaid upon those majestic crowns ! O! Such stuff hung up in air, quite contrary, on its own; Into airings put forth— as in—untenable breaches; Unto risings ineffable so tempestuously grown O! Look! To that, A subdued pang, a dead beat to an impulse, still lingers on… And ,as of , in cut-throat melancholy, none the worse, for that : I was born Yet seeding underneath and beneath that constant twist of destiny, a humble hope hankered to live on … For though, as in the broken, while the wreathing harrows blew their arrows, and so frighteningly—“ affront ,”came in this —“sorrow,” to forge on and on … Therein, my feebler spirit lifted off of it’s own wings, to gently gather more and more ……..hope……which lent my soul to expectantly—carry on ! So such , being fully borrowed… I built on … Thusly, as the raging yonder fell upon fury, eclipsing all those virtues in a world —so scurrilously spun To this, my heart, from bright red to cold white, sought it’s own contents’ calm. And thereof , thinking if I shut it close, that would make it all so warm ?! But, the rendering speech which lights up the everyday, got freshly born! I was reborn ! Yes, I was reborn …. As if, showing up in words, as I would, in all it’s paradoxical forms— written , unwritten ,and “in-between,” those flowering words to take on a new form… O! No! That gave off sometimes, and I appeared as a mere flaunt! Thereby—daring to say and/ or hear, what’s hard, and above all; about what, others have blundered upon Unsayable, as it is, in this diverse world of unequals , the secular in me just carries on, to live on ,yet thereupon, all alone! ‘Tis Quite right, when you say — I was transformed... Into another into which, my essence takes shape to another form; and with it’s casualness left to a yonder’s sojourn! Here is where I belong! Yes, my life has taken its own divergent turn…I am that I am … a resonating 🧭 soul passing through times’ turn —to experience so much more than ☝️ one ; more of which traversing in this realm; of all that is and of all there is —in knowing this life and it’s ultimate source of creation. ✍️ Signing off as me, myself and I @ birth , rebirth and life-between-lives as I truly try to bring LIFE BACK TO LIFE ✨✨✨🌟💫✨✨✨ © ✍️ Madhu Goteti, Dec 6th, 2023
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Poets
LIFE in a Smooth Sail!
That was when I was young, with innocence falling upon coffins; for others to mock on Crucially so, this is when a rough ruffler was called upon, and with his two fold follies, he dug up graves —into which, I was casually thrown! Not so much as in reality, my presence, as it is —not much to be seen, with no trace of it’s formerly, was completely gone.. Then on, tacitly tearing a sense so common, left to tatters, that in which, I had claimed all as my very own —was all gone ! Then abhorring the senselessness which hopscotched my soul as some evildoers pun …Perhaps there, the WILL—the bread n butter of my sustenance —kick- balled me to a powerless 🏃♀️ run! But…. Seemingly determined, reveling me into a person: in actuality, I was overrun! Perhaps ,That WILL which did well to distill my deaths’ —mocking return— had again—gradually overturned! And there , For there— in the grave lay stand still, that heaven’s injustice, all smoothly wrapped up with all its ills burnt. Then, ‘Twas a total inversion of the deep faith; As all had turned into a tragedy and reckoned into a nothingness of none Yes, it all came up as an illusion; an oblivion smooth; smoothly sagacious; sailing smooth on every turn ! And here, over smooth seas, this savage life when so dastardly and daringly runs; Much so much as to yield, to seek, it so quickly churns, Mixing one day with another, milking each day worse than the other; ultimately, it turns, all into ☝️ one! And in this course ,it shrouds up in face, like a thistle twisted upon a full fledged frown, Thence—Onwards trickles this Crushing calm , halting those trembling tears -that —smoothly roll on — so long ! That in which we expect one thing, altogether another gets pushed around! Further on…. Those quivers on lips, bent over as holdings, for some grandly staged song And as to one whimper, a cry stills in silence —as if, like a tyrant’s sign, it all rises up on a twilight dawn Thereupon, Beheld upon those moments, a gale unnoticed , rustles by, on it’s own ; yes, appearing unseen as an aged-out worn, For to- day, fully and surely, onwards it rushes , all out, through this remotest town Look ! It’s all unhinged, yet at lengthS breaking —those heartstrings, held to hopes —so far gone ! Then, Buried in sorrow, and journeying thro’ this grandly-vested -ribbed-out-gown— A mercy affixes in one track service, plunging down the throat as some recurrent moan! A throb then takes over it’s triumphal throttle, and stops at nothing unfinished; all closed up as ——-long withdrawn —— O ! Lo! Behold! where do those wanderings lead thee on , O! Halt! Ye breathing calm as idled woe drifts away in a sad song, Of those highs mixed with lows on some slumbering ground , O! there ,a treble warbles in lutes so, so, far too long, Within time echoing it’s celestial whispers as gently as it cruises along! Such so, set on Smooth sails some Souls move on! Guessing ?! This is how human nature copes to live by, wailing those miseries thro’ verses hidden in some sorrowful songs .. Oh! Look 👀 a singer is born ! There, UnSeen to the visible , dwellS in a vain valor, a soul distantly sitting afar -all alone And to it’s quiet stretches bequeathing all over those deserted pastoral lawns; Thriving upon those tufted meadows all so roughly grown ! Hitherto, all that its worth, and all that’s sought, gets taken, gets sunken, So, ‘tis a lil ... no , no , a lot is gone ! And before life pulls through onwards; whereof, when it beguiles to a final abscond… A Parting with no traces, no marks and no nothing, accents to a noiseless haunt O! Look! therein descends another silent tone still mastering to speak, though, smoothly—but, long dead on it's tongue O! Much as a frantic indignation to be tattered till it gets totally torn, And as things get bypassed as daunting shadows to another of those —early morns….. So, forthwith, believing in the ardent good, I think the big easy life has been run on —full on, Thence, Placing blushing honors unto stones As these death bells which thence —smoothly —dell on ! Lo! Behold! For a better curse which chases in persistence, prances herein, for so long, Whenever sentience bends above these mild sleeps; until the substance in soul has fully sown Yea, illuming the abyss , this innermost spirit rises to a lofty place, somewhere unknown… For over a tomb within those mossy planes It’s in blooms I lay finally grown ... far thrown ! And while the bells from the temple sprinkle holy laurels over the graced sounds O! Such everlasting are those evergreens —standing alone, as stalwarts in stately forms! And as in all , as lasting in forever, this elegy gets stamped-marked on—THAT cemented ground And as Much as a settled soul, my essence in presence has been fully sown —transformed! Yet again, in transition, an eternal glory, still majestically moves on; Coffined to a grave into those depths —quite unknown ! Then suddenly, lost ever to all appearances —like the emperors’s new clothes—I am gone ! It’s all gone ... Yea’! gliding in bathetic shifts, it’s s all gone , all gone , all gone ... bidding adieus , far from this sunny hearth - bidding it’s last farewells, it’s all gone .... Then …. Those sweet smiles fade away, Tending to tears that reveled around , With afflictions on mortals “his grace ,” has been finally shown ! Pouring over mansions of grief, he from up above showers supposed relief; As in mercies thrown in good grace, unto his chosen ones ! There, with full expectant eyes you may ask — Why does his charity so uniquely usher in relief as showers thrown ?! Why , redeeming us, O! in such a belief, Will it so rush on? Of what worth is this barter when heaven’s glory on earth—pays a heavy price to every Ounce ! For what calls us to live for this suffering from birth into times —smoothly races in a deathly bounce ; that which abounds all around! For whom we put our hearts on fire , by whom all owned is counted to a legions amount! As if, hastily calling us for summons, in grace or to a winning approval for our “worldly worth,” to be finally announced Is this life so pronounced ? yes , it’s this sweet life —smoothly sailing with it’s renewed intensity , just affirming itself, back to pounce ! So scattered unshrinkingly to every service of the heart , to every mind toiling hard , in recurring resets — in times, it all rebounds ‘Coz light is the mirth which rises quickly, ascending the swollen girth to a dance and pounce ... In it’s sheer evanescence, it gets up, dresses up, for yet another —naked truth to be reborn Yes , erasing this existence which makes false claims and thereupon , It shall be newly BORN .... And as in the consequence for those who walk those paths unbound, Failing to fetch me at first ,my maker, keeps me , thusly, so spellbound ! Yet this journey which invariably accompanies me from birth to rebirth , affirmatively says — Come, slide smooth and pass on; until all stages are over and your pithy works are all done —until then, MOVE ON!
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Poets
SANDS OF TIME
The Trailing Train 🚂 hooted and it was laboring along endlessly. It was on a prolonged run moving across many cascading turns. Everything was ensuing itself into this unwinding path of no returns. Needless to say, in all this, the tracks were also abruptly vanishing, and vaguely—the sensation was a total gooey amalgam. It was no illusion. The quasi in such a context was noticeable. But, in some connected sense, history was leading into a personage of ghastliest lineament.
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Fiction
Itchimekilieloo
I listened to her feet treading upstairs. She nudged the half open door as she walked in a haste. She intrigued me skillfully ,which in turn, made me probe her most perennially. Simply reinforcing this status quo, I followed her around with drift quickness. And so on and so forth, I got nicknamed as a “digger,” and she got celebrated well as a “tripper ,” most candidly for her brisk movements.
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Fiction
