Now

Apples

A life of freedom.
[Source – Pixabay]

Up on the tree defying gravity,

Red or green or the golden me

Appears the same like the rest on the tree.

Fruits of love mixed with manure, sin-free

In one, sinful in yet another story;

An apple, that is writing this ode to apples like me,

Reveals the truth that it has no identity.


Hear-ho, hear-o! Here-here, go slow!

Don’t rush to grasp, to know

The unknown, here-here, go slow!


Apples in chronicles

Apples in stores and wars

Apples – rhyming schemes

Apples and vitamins

Apples packed in tins

Apples starring in films

Apples rotting in bins

Is truth but also the past that doesn’t last

Until you carry it along for too long,

To understand that which is long gone,

Never seeing the o-so-fresh song,

You carry the long gone.


While we, the apples, are little bundles of the now,

Up on the tree, now on the floor,

Now fresh, now rotten, now gone,

Now a seed, now born,

Never-never-never in a hurry to rise or fall,

Never-never-never in a hurry to live or die,

For we, the apples, are little bundles of the now.

The joy in action!
[Source – Pixabay]

Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!

This field is required.

Recent Posts


An Ancient Temple

Living and dying daily.
[Source – Pixabay]

Stranger, think long before you enter,

For these corridors amuse not passing travellers.

But if you enter, keep your voice to yourself.

Nor should you tinkle and toll your tongue.

These columns rose not, for such as you.

But for those urgent pilgrim feet that wander

On lonely ways, seeking the roots of rootless trees.

The earth has many flowery roads; choose one

That pleases your whim, and the gods be with you.

But now leave! Leave me to my dark green solitude

Which like the deep dream world of the sea

Has its moving shapes; corals; ancient coins;

Carved urns and ruins of ancient ships and gods;

And mermaids, with flowing golden hair

That charm a patch of silent darkness

Into singing sunlight.

-Inscription on an ancient temple, Pingalavel, G.A Kulkarni

An ancient forgotten temple that luckily doesn’t asks for donation, mutters a handful of such words that falls on some lucky ears, but usually ricochets off the nearby rocks.

The mossy temple, absorbed in and absorbing the greenery around, is purposeless, meaningless, free from limited definitions.

It shoots comet-fireball-meteor-like sparkling rays randomly into the bright dark sky… or catches the comet-fireball-meteor-like sparkling rays… it shoots or catches… if you see after tilting your head a little.

And so, it meets and greets only the earnest pilgrim, who is roaming aimlessly, ‘seeking the roots of rootless trees.’ Admonishing a half-hearted, tied-to-a-string, fearful attempt, a fearful approach that has drawn conclusions. ‘… the gods be with you. But now leave!’

Sitting still, sinking into the deep sea, a silent celebration that never began and will never end.

The ancient forgotten temple disappears into singing sunlight.

Sing along the sunlight!
[Source – Pixabay]

Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!

This field is required.

Recent Posts


Weather Forecast Says Listen to George Ezra

Coverage
[Created by Jagriti Rumi; Source – Wikipedia]

*

Relationship with the world grows like grass and creepers; growing in every direction like the grass, growing criss-cross network like the creepers. The very many we don’t know, the very few we do, together shape our lives.

Meeting not the grass patch across the road, I stay happy/unhappy with my rocks, my stones, my pals, my weeds.

And in a shrinking world – our one big grass field, our one small landmass in the world of oceans upon oceans – the seasons may change, but the weather remains the same, it is the weather to form relationships, this weather is here to stay.

Hatred and discomfort in a relationship doesn’t require much effort, it easily springs to life, nurturing illusions in separation, measuring neatly, dividing by all, leaving the remains in decimals.

Compassion, love in a relationship is all that there is to it.

Then doing a chore becomes something more, like wild grass covering and fostering the soil exuberantly, turning into meadows, savannas, prairies, pastures, it grows, not knowing the difference it grows.


Moon loves the grass and listening to George Ezra.
[Source – Pixabay]

*

The weather remains the same, it is the weather to form relationships, this weather is here to stay, that is why probably the weather forecast says, ‘Listen to George Ezra’.

His songs are about forming relationships – with friends, family, the beloved, the city, the village, Tiger Lily, the oldies goldies, heaven, hell, middle earth, nature, you and me and them all.

In baritone voice, his songs narrate a story of relations without conclusions so that you can freely listen and freely walk on the grass field.

His songs share secret messages that you get before you know you did.

Without an end, like a creeper stretching its hand, meeting a tree or a forest floor, the song meets you, takes you along.

Ezra’s songs speak not about ‘eventually’, for there is no ‘eventually’, but only the now, the present, this instant, not what is fleeting, nothing is, for you’re fleeting along.

Hold on, hold on dear world for we are moving together, divided we fall, we have fallen, fallen on the green grass that if we see, observe, will share a thing or two about relations.


This weather forecast won’t fail you, rather it’ll nudge you lovingly to make do, see through and say Take Two today.

*

*

Monday Budapest

TuesdayAnyone For You (Tiger Lily)

Wednesday Listen to the Man

Thursday – Fell In Love At The End of The World

*

*

FridayParadise

SaturdayCassy O & Green Green Grass

Sunday Shotgun

*


Twisted, quirky and stubborn relationships, at times, may overpower, confuse, ridicule you, don’t give up then, but take this antidote; first get drenched in rain and thunder, be with the darkness inside, then simply ‘blame it on me’, only to switch to a soothing greenery, back to nature for a while.

*

Why Day – Did You Hear The Rain?

*

Eh Day – Blame it on me

*

Any Day – Barcelona


Weather forecast ‘ifs’ –

*

If you want a clear sky and the day to be bright and sunny or if it is too hot and you want a happy tiny cloud to follow you for shade then listen to George Ezra’s Morning Song.

*

*


Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!

This field is required.

Recent Posts


Now Is Forever

Breathe and know the now.
[Image by Jonathan Reichel from Pixabay]

Walking ahead, though the past was slightly askew, she unlearned many things for good, sighing and laughing at her funny plans, she heard the silence completely and asked herself to stop feigning.

Tiresome, but still hopeful, she accepted the confusion. Forgetting fear on the way, she dreamed about the mountains with her eyes wide open. Dense fog passed by, saying nothing, approving nothing, just making her smile a little.

The tall pine trees reverberated with continuity and change, thus affecting her. Rocks, stones, pebbles all are very jolly, she wrote in her notebook.

And now she sees the stairs. The question arises… not whether she will or will not, but how truly. Walking, but how truly?

This is to be realised on the way, she tells herself.

Stopping, as her mind was moving too fast, she breathed… the air deftly hushed her talkative self and so she listened… listened truly, completely.

Now is the time to live, now is the time to act, now is forever, at least till I am.

Point taken, she walked ahead humming a soft tune.


Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!

This field is required.

Recent Posts


Likewise!

The path I took…
[Image by Gudrun Becker from Pixabay]

When I said, “I don’t know”

They said, “Hah, but we know.”

They don’t know me at all,

Standing up on the wall,

They look down at me and shout,

“You are dying silly, lookout.”

I tremble as the screams hit me,

Drab and numb, says my graphic tee…

I tumbled, tripped and hurt my toe,

But I stood up and decided to go.

I smiled and said, “I know now.”

They said to me, “But how?”


Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!

This field is required.

Recent Posts