March 26, 2011
A Parody
A 100 or less worded Micro fiction in poetry genre this time around, with a Prompt in bold (not included in the 100 words count) that has to be left intact in the Poem. Sing along with other rhymes at Jenny Matlock's meme...her blog off on my tangent.
I am above average in studies
And I don’t quite worry
Must I proclaim anyway
Nothing you say is making a headway
Often I seek the outside
Training my thoughts on the roadside
Alas I am not always invisble
Caught by a question unanswerable
Holding my head down in so deplorable
I’m not a chicken
Classmates, don’t be concerned
Kneeling down and 100 long lines I can tolerate
Enjoy the show but do calculate
Next is you on the line Dear, Saddened Wilma!!! :P
(( Wilma Roche (A Goan Catholic) was one of my best friends from 6th-10th grade in my all girls convent school (St.Anne's, Bombay)...
We lost touch after junior college i.e.11th and 12th grade here....
and she had this klutzy habit of breaking my glasses (shortsighted me) atleast once a year !! ))

March 25, 2011
Fleeting
Moving in silent circles
soft echoes of her heart
the benign, calm exterior
mellowed by life's drifts
soft echoes of her heart
the benign, calm exterior
mellowed by life's drifts
now - a different reality.
The roaring fire quenched
The roaring fire quenched
dying embers remain
spitfire resurfaces, fades
shot down, cold glances askance
now - a solemn gaze.
shot down, cold glances askance
now - a solemn gaze.
Dispassionate in all her works
detached , the ebb and flow
distraught, emotions lost
misguided, world's voice heeding
now - a distorted view.
detached , the ebb and flow
distraught, emotions lost
misguided, world's voice heeding
now - a distorted view.
Seeking the escape route
remembering days yonder
wishing, change unchanged
remembering days yonder
wishing, change unchanged
breathing forbidden air of freedom
now - a mistaken entity.
now - a mistaken entity.
March 24, 2011
The Divination
The curtain parted...
She gulped....not him again. She gestured for him to take a seat.
He never looked around to notice the tiny alterations that were now possible .
Ever since he become her biggest client.
He gazed with such intensity that she was sure her tiny room would combust.
No longer asked the question...he had only one thing on his mind...
Closed her eyes, muttered the ancient words and looked....
Time for the usual lie....somehow they were easier, the truth choking her vocal chords .
He smiled at her answer, paid and left her staring at his daughter’s death in her crystal.
March 22, 2011
The Visits - Mag 58
Watching them leave
emptiness all around
back to the start.
ten steps back for
every half step forward..
this macabre dance
at the end of each month.
Pausing by the calendar
circling the same digits
of a new Gregorian phase.
The lights turned dim
the shadows on the wall,
glinting metal and shield.
This gift was a curse
breaking ties apart
the folklore said.
Too late to heed
the damage ran deep,
visitation rights wasn't
all this warrior craved.
March 20, 2011
Haiku 10
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Image courtesy unsanechild.deviantart.com |
Gaping heart bleeding /
Nature's fury in command /
Nature's fury in command /
Now out of control //
( For the people of Japan )
March 19, 2011
# 30 Random Musings For The Day
Funny how the recent Wiki leak bombs pound the Indian Government around HOLI.....as if we didn't have enough colourful scams already....
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| Images courtesy : Google images and Mosaic courtesy : PhotoScape |
March 18, 2011
The Final Goodbye
A short Summary : This is a series of stories on "the ordinary women" whose lives are/were interconnected, some more - some less....they are based on one or more events that affected/changed their lives...
The stories are true as far as the plot or gist of the matter go....the wordplay is the author's portrayal....

She paused at the doorstep...looking back at the room once more. Everything was as she had left it two months ago....the curtains, the dining table she begged and begged for months and finally got, her favourite couch rich blue with silver trimmings, a favourite with the only three neighbours who passed his test (well most of the time at least).
The light blue sofa still stood, a mute majestic witness to the torment sessions, mental and emotional, countless endured to the point of a breakdown, the humiliations, the constant put downs that still sent cold shivers down her spine.
His high pitched voice with a maniac quality echoed in her brain, cold swept all over her, the heart pounding at an inhuman rate...the well recognised signs of a panic attack. She took deep breathes the way her doctor has taught her, clutched a chair for support and moved to gather her few precious belongings, a culmination of six wasted years.
Every piece of cloth, a book here, a C.D there, remainders of the few happy moments she had managed to gather and salvage from the wreck that was her marriage. Her bags packed, she glanced at the house for one last time ....
The house she had tried in vain to make a home but dimly realised now was never hers to begin with. The house now stood for only loss : loss of innocence, loss of her unborn child, loss of hope, loss of dignity, loss of self worth and the greatest loss, one that would haunt her for years to come, loss of the will to live.
The lift stopped , her and bags deposited to the ground floor, the safety zone...as she turned to hug and wave at her few friends, the only ones that would miss her...never him, never him..
She saw at last in the afternoon sun....behind her stood the skyscraper tall, looming and lonely ....before her stood her mother and the cab, her ticket to freedom bought at a bitter price.
She walked with a spring in her step, a tiny smile, a smile none the less that threatened to break out of the gloom, knowing that though the road ahead was not easy, too many battles still to be fought.... He could never hurt her again.....
Wc 383 to add a 100 odd words.
The stories are true as far as the plot or gist of the matter go....the wordplay is the author's portrayal....
Apologies to any one who finds her story here.... Unfortunately, this one is mine....

She paused at the doorstep...looking back at the room once more. Everything was as she had left it two months ago....the curtains, the dining table she begged and begged for months and finally got, her favourite couch rich blue with silver trimmings, a favourite with the only three neighbours who passed his test (well most of the time at least).
The light blue sofa still stood, a mute majestic witness to the torment sessions, mental and emotional, countless endured to the point of a breakdown, the humiliations, the constant put downs that still sent cold shivers down her spine.
His high pitched voice with a maniac quality echoed in her brain, cold swept all over her, the heart pounding at an inhuman rate...the well recognised signs of a panic attack. She took deep breathes the way her doctor has taught her, clutched a chair for support and moved to gather her few precious belongings, a culmination of six wasted years.
Every piece of cloth, a book here, a C.D there, remainders of the few happy moments she had managed to gather and salvage from the wreck that was her marriage. Her bags packed, she glanced at the house for one last time ....
The house she had tried in vain to make a home but dimly realised now was never hers to begin with. The house now stood for only loss : loss of innocence, loss of her unborn child, loss of hope, loss of dignity, loss of self worth and the greatest loss, one that would haunt her for years to come, loss of the will to live.
The lift stopped , her and bags deposited to the ground floor, the safety zone...as she turned to hug and wave at her few friends, the only ones that would miss her...never him, never him..
She saw at last in the afternoon sun....behind her stood the skyscraper tall, looming and lonely ....before her stood her mother and the cab, her ticket to freedom bought at a bitter price.
She walked with a spring in her step, a tiny smile, a smile none the less that threatened to break out of the gloom, knowing that though the road ahead was not easy, too many battles still to be fought.... He could never hurt her again.....
Wc 383 to add a 100 odd words.
March 14, 2011
The Mastermind
He had never been accused of being intelligent...therein lay his secret to success...
At first glance he was anything but impressive...a mousy looking junior accountant in a slowly popular fashion house, a stickler for rules and honest to a fault....
The reports were prompt, accurate; the books in perfect order...
When the audit firm asked for hereto overlooked records, he was all smiles and helpful, assigning an assistant their way....
As the scam was unearthed, the store keeper and stock manager suspended...he was effusive in his praise of the young interns who unlocked the so called fraud.... his mind focusing on the latest victims to be hired...
March 08, 2011
March 02, 2011
The Nightmare - Mag 55
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| Courtesy Magpie |
Weary feet in step
with the world's drum
a casual glance reveals
the carefully constructed
facade still in place.
Some normal days
solace brings along
the journey thus far
highly strung nerves
like a coiled spring
never knowing when
dim courage has bolted...
A nervous tick belies
the hidden tremors awakening
blood splattered walls
lemon souffle and fork
the nightmare begins....
Sympathetic voices
wake up to
a year ago
seems much longer
our last meal
before they took her
my only child
draped in blood
darkness covers
as they burgled along...
Haiku 8
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| Courtesy : ohwhatachristy's photostream |
The ripples settled /
A shadow, your reflection /
No more a Mirage? //
February 27, 2011
A fairy's Dilemma
The harp turned into a wet mop, jostling her awake.
"Clean the mess first" barked the angry voice.
Sloshing in the rain was no longer fun.
140 exact.
Microfiction Monday #72
The harp turned into a wet mop, jostling her awake.
The limit is a tweetable 140 characters or fewer, inspired by a photo or illustration.
"Clean the mess first" barked the angry voice.
Sloshing in the rain was no longer fun.
140 exact.
The limit is a tweetable 140 characters or fewer, inspired by a photo or illustration.
Based on a Tweet on Photo theme...
by Susan Carleton at Stony River ....check out others gems out there.
February 26, 2011
Adios Silken Dream
Thought I'll dole out a less serious tale for a change... *cough* another true story *cough* except for the prompt....
The pile steadily increased....given it was trousseau shopping, not to mention silk sarees gifted to close relatives...
The colours swirled in front of them, thirty six shades of violet...
The colours swirled in front of them, thirty six shades of violet...
Undecided, looked around....her reception one not chosen....
The perfect shade of mauve, called out literally..the embroidery and price tag left her bedazzled...
She touched lovingly, to have it pried away gently...”The lady in green has selected it.....cash payment and its yours.”
She dodged peak traffic to reach the bank....silent prayers, awaiting her turn. To her dismay...the ATM machine began dispensing twenties!!!
Stepping out to find the lady and her dream walking towards the car.
Moonlight
I gaze into the
carpet high above,
weaved with magical fingers
twinkling stars nearer and further apart
dim light that brighten the night.
The wizardess's wavering moods
that transforms the sky
from darkness a while ago
to a shimmering silken glow .
I search for thee
waxing and waving
visible and invisible
the ethereal moonlight...
February 23, 2011
The Puzzle Mag - 54
Come night
the pieces
on the bedside floor.
attacking them with
single minded devotion
joining, disjoining
the chaos
the mind swirls in.
simple enough
at first glance
the chaos
the mind swirls in.
simple enough
at first glance
some fit like
they are born to it
others belong
so obvious elsewhere
trying desperately
fails to find
the lost one
the missing piece
the missing piece
of her lonely heart...
February 20, 2011
Bested
*cough* a true story *cough* except for the prompt....
It was getting tedious.... him and his cronies from the colony as she alighted from the bus.
The third day, well prepared ... note in hand....
Grinning sadly with the knowledge that he followed.... knowing exactly when she – book worm would be stopped.
Grudgingly admired his perseverance. The same routine.... different words, common refrain “I like you, be friends?” *
Day one at sympathetic best...
Day one at sympathetic best...
When she knew, just polite...
Today red in her vision hearing “I’d catch a grenade for ya...”
“Catch this first” waving the 100 rupee note across his face.
Walking away, raucous laughter from hidden corners “lost the bet, pass the 100 man”
Walking away, raucous laughter from hidden corners “lost the bet, pass the 100 man”
February 19, 2011
Bitter Sweet
We pass by now,
denying each other's existence
the picture lies not
we were together, happy once.
You chose filial ties
over what was right
no grudges held, understand
what it means to walk in your shoes.
The common paths
we still have to tread
part of me seeks
to mend the tear
the other glad
not having to face you there.
You took with you,
in parting ways
the tiny bud I loved
whose blossomed flower
I see from other's eyes.
Wonder why
in relationships
extremes we choose
the middle path
never explored.
Despite the pain
I wish you well
now far from the time
when hated your voice
on the line.
have grown enough
in such a short while
but still can see
letting go of the petty past
isn't something you can try...
isn't something you can try...
( written a year ago for one who was a friend and sister in law....
but just a distant relative now. )
# 28 Random Musings For The Day
Every artist worth his/her salt needs a muse....what if, the muse in question has a bad hair day or worse still runs off with the chops??
February 13, 2011
Lost Chances
Love came dawdling through
dressed up in all his finery
unmoved, unmindful
standing her ground
cold masks gathered
the gift of life's bonds.
Random acts of kindness
seemingly unnoticed
cherub's efforts in vain
door slammed shut
refuge sought that
false pretenses brought.
Voices assailing
at every turn
at every turn
relationships mended
one sought
a fraud, a hoax
the other in disdain
she kept her silence
opinions weighed
Window kept ajar
for him who
was now afar
cobwebs the spiders weave
wrinkled and quite grey
oft seen she stands
oft seen she stands
by the window sill.
Microfiction Monday #70
The winding road knows not her scent...
doubts assail him...
cream and strawberries her fill,
his wicked grin casting their spell still?
136 characters
For this game, the limit is a tweetable 140 characters or fewer, inspired by a photo or illustration.
136 characters
For this game, the limit is a tweetable 140 characters or fewer, inspired by a photo or illustration.
Based on a Tweet on Photo theme...
by Susan Carleton at Stony River ....check out others gems out there.
February 12, 2011
Wanna Be Your Huggy Puggyman...
This week's Saturday Centus the challenge is to use UP TO 50 words to write a Hallmark card around this image for VALENTINES DAY! Do walk through the other hallmarks at Jenny Matlock's meme...her blog off on my tangent .
The Words...
Jump, catch, fetch
snuggle, wag, juggle
never my style.
No, not always
this goofy...
Happens only
sniff, sniff
when you have
passed by....
The Words...
Jump, catch, fetch
snuggle, wag, juggle
never my style.
No, not always
this goofy...
Happens only
sniff, sniff
when you have
passed by....

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