Some impulsive days /
Reasons fly off the window /
Sweet fruit forbidden //
Thank you, Jingle, for the Perfect Poet Award 
for Week 39
for Week 39 I accept…
For next week I nominate Nimue.
March 28, 2011
March 26, 2011
Haiku 11
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| My Nephews |
Hush!! warm soft breathes /
A tear drops, the angels sleep /
Nature creates beauty //
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
# 31 Random Musings For The Day
Egypt marches to democracy, the modern day Cleopatra bids adieu.....coincidence or the natural progression of things??
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| Image courtesy Google |
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| Image courtesy Google |
Fleeting
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.
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