About loving again

Old habits die hard, eh?

my book of poetry is ready, just in time.

I compiled my poetry collection for my prince, although as i mentioned to a poetess friend, he cant care less. Poor man, he has been putting up with all the scrapes of paper lying about, flying around, since a long time now. The burden of playing polite when i absolutely shove it down his throat ( the poetry, i mean) and force him to comment and praise. The guilt of not remembering which piece, which line i am talking so animatedly about.

sigh! think if you had to receive poetry for all your b’days, rhymes for anniversaries ( mostly made up days – of this n that), reading/s on the beach, outside the church steps, with long walks, short walks, at the dinner table , candlelight leading to more paper notes, colourful scripts in bed, out of bed…….i’ll save you from more bed details, but this one is the ultimate – the epitome of my happiness: on a lazy afternoon when i drape myself on his strong chest and read to him in bits n slices, his eyes closed and he murmurs hmm’s and ahem’s at just the right places – his conditioned responses that will make me 100 % glowing & content – smart a**! I love him for all that.

This  is for him, although as i said earlier, i’ll have to keep it , with myself , safe and tidy. A few publishers have told me in the past , no one  wants mushy poetry, in other words, it wont sell. It was my dream, and i am grateful  to god for giving me prince, and this art to express my love. the journey of making it has been as satisfying as loving itself.

cover design, in process

Stano, my designer has done a wonderful job, absolutely beautiful sketches make my poetry come alive on paper. he is learning english, and was very hassled about the task of reading the pieces and trying to make sense, so that he could make some appropriate drawings. He took my pages to a britt friend of his , made him read and asked some questions to which he recieved answers like –

what is the mood ? Sad

what is the tone? Polite

This did not help at all, and Stano was very shy to come back to me.  i found this hilarious, when he told me, and was also curious about his britt friend. After much struggle Stano asked me  – for each poem, give me a 1 line description in very simple english, fit for a 6 year old. Wow! i tried to do what he asked, and he tried to make what i was asking for, he made me laugh ( secretly) and he felt embarrassed to show me his sketches each time; if i approved he felt i was being polite, if i didnt approve & wanted him to make changes, he sulked -‘ it’s not easy, it takes a lot of time to make each sketch’ – i completely understand the whims and drama of an artist. I promise Stano will never read this blog, dont worry about me guys.

Art teaches us new lessons in life , and wisdoms too if i may add here. Otherwise what can bring together 2 people of different nationalities, backgrounds, speaking different langauges, in an alien land ( China) to create something new , fresh. We mark our time here, something we are going to feel proud of….for ever!



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