Save the telomeres

Is the ability to abuse , genetic ? Why are mother-in-laws, frequently involved in daughter-in-law abuse ? And why does the son often have a silent, shameless gene? Along with a senseless abuse gene ?


(During cell division, the enzymes that duplicate the chromosome and its DNA cannot continue their duplication all the way to the end of the chromosome. If cells divided without telomeres, they would lose the ends of their chromosomes, and the necessary information they contain. The telomeres are disposable buffers blocking the ends of the chromosomes and are consumed during cell division...If telomeres do not do their stuff, there can be unpredictable mutations in genes)


Cells replicating
with abandon,
the normal gene
in his cell strand.
Telomeres
trying
to help,
patching disruption
of strands at the
end of the string.


And she watches
amazed ,
then in horror,
as
the telomeres
die,
shredding the ends,
losing
all chance of control,
methylating
the DNA
into
a mutating,
worsening,
and (enhancing
the uncontrolled
pseudo powerful)
ABUSE gene.


Telomeres,
discovered*** by women,
then
abused by women
who
keep silent
when
again,
their ,
so called "own"
women are abused.

***Elizabeth Helen Blackburn, FRS (born November 26, 1948) is an Australian born biological researcher at the University of California, San Francisco, who studies the telomere, a structure at the end of chromosomes that protects the chromosome. Blackburn co-discovered telomerase, the enzyme that replenishes the telomere. For this work, she was awarded the 2009 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine, sharing it with Carol W. Greider and Jack W. Szostak. She also worked in medical ethics, and was controversially dismissed from the President's Council on Bioethics.

Rest for troubled eyes....

Once again, inspired by this post by Sylvia.

(photographs by Sylvia)

Cloudy
elbows across
the face,
the tired Sun,
squinting
at the
hovering bird,
blocks his eyes;




Now waiting
to sink
his turbulent
mind
into the cool
ocean waters,
to start
with a clean slate
another day...

He has seen
too much,
killing,
fighting,
jeering,
destruction
on his
daily route
across
the world.....

Ups and downs

Inspired by this post from Sylvia's photo blog.

(photographs by Sylvia)

Life
rolls on,
rising,
ebbing,
waves
holding hands
through
the
infinite blue;



Some obstacles
surmounted
together
in a brilliant
cheerful spray;
the happy rocks,
bathed,
under a warm sun,
playful birds
dodging
a cool sprinkle...

Lifes
little skirmishes,
now sweeter,
and cooling down
to exultant
relaxing waves,
humoring
each other
as they roll on
to rest ,
momentarily
on the
inviting sands.

The United Colors of .....

Another beautiful photograph, from my friend Sylvia's photo-word blog

(photo, courtesy sylvia kirkwood)


Some dark,
some white,
fiery brown,
cool cream,
and every color
of this
wondrous earth;


The
staunchly united
pebbles,
enjoy the wait,
as the
water,
of the same ocean,
washes over them;
cleaning minds
and
scrubbing thoughts.

If only,
the bigger
more powerful
rocks,
listened...

Dark and light philosophy

My friend , Sylvia, has a wonderful photoblog, and this was a comment on some great photos of shadows , which were part of her Shadow Shot series....


The Sun
shooting
its warmth
meets someone
but is stopped
in surprise
in its path.


Quietly ,
head down,
it goes round
who
it has met.
To meet and
shake hands
with a shadow....

Even the sun must learn
that there is
dark and light
in life,
and the way they meet
is wonderful....

Helpless

For some, whose words fail, but whose fragrance pervades, and whose eyes speak. Praying this divali for new blossoms in some lives.


Divali,
the victory
of good over evil.

Is victory,
a cloud ,
that can bring neither rain ,
nor shady solace
to a
once blossoming mind
burning in the
dopamine heat ?



And the flower,
now a stick,
wilting,
struggling,
but still trying
to stay upright,
looks wordlessly
at the
helpless
flowers around it.

Sometimes the thorns
and the evil,
are one's own.

Padmashri Sugarcane

An inspiring post by Kavi on sugarcane juice. Thirst destroys verse-ability.

A glass of cool nectar later ......




A purple-green
lanky
piece of goods,
big , long
and narrow greens
crowning
in royal flare;



A harvest,
and a crowded trip
to a factory
where
the only thing
cooperative***
is the canes
crushing themselves
together
to a sugary end...



But a few escape
to little stalls
in cities;
a bit of extra life,
before
tired ,
stretching,
and twisting
fibrously,
they crush their
ambitions
into nectar
for thirsty humans.

A life
totally,
dedicated
to making things
sweeter,
cooler,
and satisfying
for others.

Padma*** awards, anyone ?

*** Sugar factories in India are generally sugar co0perative factories....

*** The country's high civilian awards, given every year. Sometimes more like rewards.

Flaming support

The waning
Ashwin** moon
bombed and cataracted,
as it peers
through the clouds
drips occasional
moonlight
amidst trees
through the night.




But in all
my temples,
energized
by the prayers,
a thousand
little
mud lamps,
glow in support
flickering in beat
to the
sonorous
prayers,
that ask Him
to bring
a Festival of lights
to dark minds in space.

Water happens
not when you
blast someone.
It happens
when
you collect
the tears
of joy
of those who had
none to shed
in the drought.


** Hindu Lunar calendar month

All for water ?

Three quarters swishing blue,
we crowd the fourth,
stuffing with concrete,
suffocating the green,
till the clouds
and the winds,
conspire to stop
crying
over the fields.




The farmer
weeps wordlessly
in his
lifeless land,
head in his hand,
waiting for the truant rain...

No groundwater,
Dry borewells,
A famine of power
within and without.

And so they
bore
the biggest hole
in a land where nothing grows;
desperate problems
desperate measures
and yet
they bomb the moon,
instead of
digging the earth.

...And
the waves
of the
three quarters swishing blue
tsunamically rise
and give up,
washing out tears
over the
parched land.

Up hundred steps in life

Inspired by this post from Manju







She looks up,
a hundred steps in the sun,
as two pots
brimming with water
fight for equilibrium
on her head and hip....


She looks up,
a hundred steps in the sun,
as an older daughter
cuddles
a baby brother,
with an eye
on the rice,
another on the
book
borrowed from
school...



She looks up
a hundred steps in the sun,
at the lady
who comes to help....
and guide.

She will listen,
discuss,
slog late into night,
So that many years later
she can look up
again,
not hundred steps,
but
into the eyes
of her children
successful
educated
working....

This time
the
Sun will shine
and smile down, a hundred steps,
wrapping them all
in the warm
honest admiration.........

Departing memories

Inspired by this post by Braja

The fading splash
of the amorphous
sindoor,
the limp,
descending
tresses
protecting
a rushing hot teardrop;


She
pulls her palloo
further
over her forehead,
closing in,
guarding fiercely
her memories....

In her heart of hearts
he never left;
In the bloom of a flower,
the fragrance of milk
slurped by a child,
a lamp lighting a prayer,
and
the music of the wind
traipsing
through the reeds,
he is always there...

Abusive learning

An eye for an eye
makes you blind
he said.
Of course
respectable folks,
they obeyed,
head down,
and educated themselves
highly
in words.

But a
word for a word
has made her deaf,
dumb
and she questions
if
having a
respectable
mother and father
yourself
is
a prerequisite
for
perpetuating abuse
that denies someone else
a
well defined father?

An eye for an eye,
Word for a word,
The beholder
and listener
is finally
deaf, dumb and blind......
The perpetrator
smiles
at
his creativity
in mouthing
one more
4 letter word.......