Being Speechless

I went through 

Two weeks of horror 

Of being speechless

As my psychiatrist 

Misdiagnosed my 

sleep deprivation for 

a week as psychotic 

The drugs he prescribed 

Made me speech impaired 

It affected other organs too

I struggled to talk to anyone 

I feared if I could ever speak again

Even as the psychiatrist gave

Assurance of regaining voice 

As my friend enquired about 

The nature of the medicines 

And that it didn't improve 

The psychiatrist told me to stop using 

The medication in three days 

Slowly, I could talk again 

I was stuttering and 

Words were not clear

I had to tell repeatedly 

Loudly for others 

To understand what I meant 

An auto driver mistook me 

For a drunkard, and refused

To give me a ride to the market 

I had to convince him that 

It's the side effect of psychiatric drug 

I had to tell the same to everyone 

I interacted with in shops and in public 

Though it improved significantly

It wasn't the same and I needed recovery 

Thankfully my cousin took me to meet 

A new psychiatrist, who changed 

My medications to less potent ones 

And I was able to talk fluently again 

This poem is based on my real-life experience. I realized the importance of being able to speak to convey things to the people around me. Psychiatric/psychotic drugs can affect the functioning of different abilities and even organs of humans. The wrong diagnosis by the psychiatrist led to me being unable to speak properly for a couple of weeks. But those two weeks was the most challenging period of my life. Those drugs affected my sexual organ too. The psychiatrist told me about the side-effects of the drugs after my friend asked about them. There are side effects for even medicines given in mild dosages. My aim is to come out of the medication. The number of medicines and dosages has been reduced over the last three years. But still, a long way to go. I am under treatment for depression. The image was taken by Noah Buscher .

Black Beauty

Black Beauty written 

With the image of a horse 

Reminded me of the book 

I learned in my school 

While I was in the salon 

I have been there before 

The new hairdresser

Looked familiar 

I initiated a conversation 

And I remembered 

A salon bearing the same name 

Near where I used to live earlier 

My father used to take me there 

For haircuts as a school kid 

Where I had my last haircut

In my twenties 

He told me that it's the same brand 

I asked about the other man 

He was soft-spoken and friendly 

But he lost his voice somehow 

I remember him showing me the 

Facilities in the salon after upgrading 

And inquiring about life 

Whenever I visited the salon 

That man was the uncle

Images from the past came to my mind 

There's always a special bond 

With the hairdressers 

The stories they tell while cutting hair

They remember individual hairstyle 

They're the local vocal classifieds 

I used to look for Black Beauty 

But their board was gone 

A few years ago

I found it again

A piece from my past 

It was nostalgic to find an old salon relocated. For years I thought that they shut the salon. It is more intriguing that I have been to their new salon multiple times. At that time the hairdresser was a migrant from another state and spoke Hindi. I didn't notice their brand name. This time I saw the name and the picture of black beauty. It brought back everything from memory. The hairdresser was also glad to know that I was an old customer at the old place.  The images were taken by Erik-Jan Leusink and Agustin Fernandez . Thanks to Unsplash. 

Bio-Logs: An alternative to Firewood

Charcoal and firewood fire up 

The barbeques in the backyards 

More trees are cut for making a fire 

In Argentina, pomace, the leftover

extracts from apple, pear, and other fruits 

Spread on the grounds with sunshine 

For days to let the moisture dry 

Then it's laid in a brick-like thickness 

Again to dry to lose all moisture 

The dried thick slabs are cut into logs 

They provide similar thermal properties 

As charcoal and firewood does 

It infuses fruity flavor into the meat 

The pomace from olives is turned 

Into long bio-pellets as well in Greece 

Coconut husks and shells are pulverized 

And converted into short briquettes 

In Sierra Leone as an initiative to 

Replace firewood as it offers more heat 

These bio-logs can save thousands of trees, 

It can change the way people cook, grill, 

and barbecue in many countries 

Bio-logs could light up the fireplace 

In the winter in the old buildings 

And allow trees to capture more Co2

To fight the climate change in a small way 

I came across multiple alternatives for firewood and charcoal. I saw some videos from Business Insider telling stories of individuals making products that can transform the way people cook, grill, barbeque, or even heat. A lot of people might be already using these pellets, briquettes, and bio-logs made from fruit and farm waste from factories and in general. I am experimenting with poetry based on solutions available for solving issues affecting nature and climate. Images are taken from Business Insider. 

Reclaimed Earth Colors

Abandoned mines discharge 

Acidic mine drainage 

Full of oxides 

To the creeks and streams 

Making them toxic and polluted 

For years after the closure of the mine 

The sludge from the polluted streams 

Processed to remove impurities 

And dried at different temperatures 

To make powder of different colors 

When mixed with oil and additives 

And cold-pressed 

Magical paints of reclaimed earth colors emerge 

The tail ends from mines have lumps of minerals 

Crushing those minerals creates natural colors 

That can gloss pottery like in historical times 

Painters can give colors to their imaginations

With paints  made from the mine waste

And get closer to the nature 

To spread the message 

Of healing the nature 

This poem is inspired by a documentary of researchers from Ohio Department of Natural Resources, True Pigments LLC and gamblincolors converting AMD into the paint. Reclaimed Earth Colors is the brand of the paints produced in this manner.  This is not a paid promotion of the brand. I feel this is worthy of a shout-out due to the significance of their efforts. I also came across some other videos of converting minerals from tail end of the abandoned mines into paints. They're natural colors. 

Untold Love

I came to your doorstep 

I didn’t knock

I heard your voice

It thrilled me

 

I had a letter for you

I didn’t give

I saw your smile

It graced me

 

I had a lot to tell

I didn’t try

I just walked away

In silence

 

You were raining joy on me

You were blooming love in me

You were showering hope on me

But I didn’t know how to tell you

 

I wrote this poem in 2011. The images are taken by Jean Carlo Emer and Serhil Prysiazhnyi .