How to draw water surfaces. From Jack Hamm’s Drawing Scenery (1972).
Dope resources on drawing reflections and understanding the reasons why light acts as it does!
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@vaarthai
How to draw water surfaces. From Jack Hamm’s Drawing Scenery (1972).
Dope resources on drawing reflections and understanding the reasons why light acts as it does!

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a cracked pot
a incomprehensible vase
a broken friendship
a non existent relationship
She lies on the tracks.
She lies on the ground
With as many cracks on her skull
as the breaks she felt in her heart
She lies in the bath tub
unmoving, without bubbles
She lies in the bottom
Of the ocean where fishes
Don't bother to venture.
If thoughts had power
To create parallel worlds
With real consequences
These are the places I'd lie
Dead, unmoving, unwanted
Unable to keep up with the world
Here I live a thousand deaths
In my head, looking at the mirror
Seeing a dead woman moving.
My least favourites are the ones where I hang by a rope
Or painted over a road with gut and glass shards
I pity her with the bottle of pills,
When she could have had
A bottle of something else instead.
Of all the parallel worlds there are,
I wish there's one where deliberation passes for accident
And I lie on a letter to a loved one
Bequeathing books and tidbits
That probably never 'belonged' with me anyway
To beloved beings
A glass of water
And ink washed over
My illegible scribble,
Keeping my secrets intact.
May I live on, as a mystery
That people don't bother to crack.
May I live on as memories
That were never made.
i don't want to be a woman in this world
i dont want to be a daughter of a woman in this world
i don't want to make mistakes and learn
i want to breathe
I don't want to achieve, i don't want to prove
i am here without wanting to
if i still have to be here
then just let me be
in a nowhere land without steps trailing me
to be one with the world that supposedly fosters me.
reserved
it's almost prophetic
how i ended up being early
and had to wait for you,
had to hold a seat by my side.
i fell in love, quite quickly,
accidentally but still aware,
i felt we were meant to be
but i was, then, alone.
i didn't know i could wait
being someone so impatient
but i did
and here i wait now too
with a spot reserved-
waiting for you to come here,
catch up
and see the future i see, hazy,
and unclear but
with a tightly held hand
and by my side,
someone very dear.

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mirrors for floors
my feet are useless
can not navigate
is this because of inversion?
hazy observation
obscured by lethargy
two people walk in silence
their thoughts drowned
in the noise of drops hitting
the slippery floor.
are they in love
are they seeking something
still? have they given up
a tire skids and the
reflections are smudged now
we do not know what happens beyond
was it an end?
maybe.
maybe, good riddance.
scared.
31st April
a walk in the park,
your characteristic misstep
lands you in a collision
with the one you walk
it's okay and sorry fuse into one
in the air it's meaningless now
everything is allowed and excused
a day so happy you know why
the sun is painted yellow eventhough
one can never see it directly to point at its colours
sunny but not sultry,
your palms don't sweat, even after holding hands for 2 hrs 35 mins and 12 secs
you would have held longer but you need both hands to unwrap the ice cream you both just got.
the phone is just a ghost
with its weight hanging down the pocket, nothing more.
and surprisingly thoughts
don't weigh as much as even
this forgotten phone.
to love is
to bask in sunlight
its warmth reminding you
you're alive
to love is
to hold a hand
to intertwine, to ruffle
one's hair and feel at peace.
to love is
feeling tender,
and to be blown away by
being loved back.
to love is
being wedged by miles
yet be bound by voices
and ghost hugs.
to love is
to dream of being
together and waking up
from nightmares to a good morning text.
to love is
showing eachother's scars
and yet sharpening knives
by friction not volition.
to love is
writing about it when
that's all you can do
till you can love a bit more.
blotted drop of ink
on paper is this poem, just
a persistent thought

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going to discard my clothes
and my make up too
maybe change my hair
and do my nails too
maybe get a nose job?
nah, but - hmm.
going to get polka dots
i'd usually never wear them
get black lipsticks probably
and steer clear of reds
that i usually wear,
maybe a green liner and
wear gold framed glasses
become an image
that looks not like me at all.
maybe then maybe then
sadness will lose its way
when it looks at me
unable to recognise and get confused
maybe then it will leave me
and not follow me around.
shedding tears tonight
like dry leaves at the end of summer
they don't make a sound
like the rustling though
-
they are the sounds
of creaking glass before it shatters
.
.
the sound of notification bell
for a conversation I can't hold
.
.
the sound as i join
a meeting on gmeet i don't want to be at
.
.
the sound of my favourite mug
slipping from my hands and breaking
.
.
the sound of the voice
that whispers my fears without skipping a beat
.
.
like another word
thrown out in anger
.
.
for losing water as tears,
one would expect to feel lighter
but my heart grows heavy
and feels left behind
and i can't rush her, i just wait.
i shed tears
so they leave a trail as craters on the sand
as they dry up
and she can find her way back to me again.
நேசிக்கும் கடமையைக் கடைப்பிடிக்க
அதற்கு தேவையான செயல்களில் ஈடுபட விரும்புகிறேன்
வேண்டுதல் காதுகள் கேட்காத போதும்
கடவுளைச் சுற்றி மூன்று முறை வலம் வருவது போல்,
சோம்பல் முறித்துக்
காலையில் பல் துலக்குவது போல்,
சாரலடித்தால் சன்னலை
அடைக்கும் முன் நின்று
அனுபவிக்கும் கணம் போல்,
மழையோங்கும் நேரம் விடும்
காகித கப்பல் மேலுள்ள சிறிய நம்பிக்கை போல்,
நேசிப்பது
அனிச்சையாக பரிட்சயமான செயலாக வேண்டும்.
நேசிப்பதிலடங்கிய செயல்களை
பயில விரும்புகிறேன்
உலா வர - கடவுள்
பல் துலக்க - தூரிகை
அடைக்க - சன்னல்
கப்பல் விட - காகிதம்
என இருக்க
நேசிக்க - யார்?
கவிதைக்கு உவமைகளைப் போல
சிந்தையிலோடும் என் எண்ணங்களுக்கு
நீ.

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if i sit still really still,
make sure my breath
does not move
anything even by a little,
slow my heart
to beat at will,
chain my thoughts
to the brain's grill,
will time sit with me too?
will she stay here with me forever.
ஒருவன் எப்போது மாய்கிறான்?
அவனது வார்த்தைகள்
செவிகளில் நுழைந்தும்
விழாமல் தவழும் நேரங்களிலா?
அவனது கனவுகள், தெருவிலே
நகரும் ஹெட்லைட்கள்
விட்டத்தின் மேல் ஏறியும் நிழல்களோடு சேர்ந்து
வடிவிழக்கும் நேரத்திலா?
முன்னேற முயன்றும்
அலைக்கடந்தப்பின் விரள்களிடையே
சிக்கும் மண்போல்
முயற்சிகள் பின்தங்கும் வேளையிலா?
பிறந்து, வளர்ந்து,
கற்று, காதலித்து,
பணிந்து, பணிப்புரிந்து,
யாவையும் யாசித்தப்பின்பும்
இருக்காமலே இருந்திருக்கலாமோ
என்றெண்ணும் நொடியிலா?
ஒருவனை எதை மாய்க்கிறது?
காலமா? சிந்தையா?