Indigo Mood

Image Penny Smith/ Jinksy

‘A walk through the woods...
smell of docca and progo
 lingers on; even after 
the planets are gone’

“Miss home still?”

“when the sky turns this shade...”

“....as does your skin”

“time for the jabs then...should I try tan or mocha this time?”
“Two states this year!! Can't be careful enough...

wait a century, I'd say....”

*Droco And Progo...imaginary tree like formations

Haiku - 22

Image Courtesy

 Mirrors never lie / 

Disappointed eyes, seeks more / 

Nothing stays the same //

Child's Play

*Tried an Acrostic after a long time.....using each succeeding alphabet of the prompt as the first letter of the lines of the verse.

“Surprise!!  I’m pregnant”

From photobucket

Said the report; the Gynec, sad frown

Utter silence across the table

Reminiscent; ashen faces, of cremation grounds

People once friendly,

Rendered snickering gossips

Infatuation at 12, paid bitter price

School authorities bid nasty goodbye

“Egg rotten, spoils the entire set”, they proclaimed.

Insensitive relatives advise,

Admonished parents, for letting things slide,

Mother calls her a harlot now....

Ponder how a child is begotten,

Remember it takes two to tango...

Ensure censure for other’s fault

Given leeway, playing the field

New victim to warm his worn bed

Allowing him to deny

Not justice decreed

Tonight she sleeps...tomorrow....

*based on a news heard....12 yrs old should be enjoying childhood...but T.V, movies make them

indulge in reckless behaviour....

* My heart goes out to the 12 year old, especially with no schooling for now, living in a traditional society she has a tough life ahead.

Would you like to see this as a poem or as a 100 word story?

An Interview With A .....

Tonight we meet the reclusive authoress of 'If I die Young'.
"Welcome. Can you tell us what inspired the book and the thrilling storyline?"

Rasping in a soft voice, unblinking gaze, “Readers would know that it is based on out of body experiences, my own."

Red faced for a quick second before plunging forward, 
"Can you elaborate for the ones who haven't been able to grab a copy yet?"

 A maniacal gleam in the eye that turns the tomato hues to purple, a euphorical, "the young, such noble sacrifice...so soft and delicate, wonderful shades too. The best picks are the ones between 18 and 22...skin begging to be turned robes, an artist's delight. For a guy, yours is pretty soft too!!"

Reaching for the purse on the table, eyes on a particular man in the audience who nods his compliance.

"Someone call the cops" the last screams heard, before the studio turns dark and quiet...

*The title has been borrowed from "An interview with a vampire", lest poor me gets charged for copyright violation.

*Modern reality shows with emphasis on questionable, inappropriate behaviour, spouting corrupt role models and our infatuation with this disturbing phenomena prompted this piece.

*I have tried to keep it PG...apologise if it offends any one's sensibilities.

Wave The Flag

Ignite the fire, 


the blue of transparency


Let the streets burn 


in the fierceness of your passion


The mighty cower and hide


covering their tracks in vain


People's power where it truly belongs


not in the hungry corridors of parliament


 in you and me who put them there


Not for avarice and mindless ego trips 


 to make our lives a better fare.


Remind them time and again


 of the people, by the people, for the people


 is still the clarion call of Democracy




* This is my BLUE contribution to the fight against corruption - a people's movement that has erupted all across India, asking their elected representatives not to forget what they are here for.

Wave The Flag

Ignite the fire, 
the blue of transparency
Let the streets burn 
in the fierceness of your passion
The mighty cower and hide
covering their tracks in vain
People's power where it truly belongs
not in the hungry corridors of parliament
 in you and me who put them there
Not for avarice and mindless ego trips 
 to make our lives a better fare.
Remind them time and again
 of the people, by the people, for the people
 is still the clarion call of Democracy








* This is my BLUE contribution to the fight against corruption - a people's movement that has erupted all across India, asking their elected representatives not to forget what they are here for.


For Jinksy In Tandem 6, Gooseberry Goes Poetic

My Story

S

miled again, rather

Grimaces in pain

The spotlight never her thing.

Millions of eyes, ears,

mouths and hands

Dissecting the enigma

On the canvas.



If portraits could

Speak their minds

As do in Hogwarts...
My face would

Mesmerise no longer.

The long hours,

Aching limbs,

Stretched endurance

Worth the while.

Few stolen moments ,

A valid excuse,

Bought at heavy price

Of heartache and heart break.



Throw a curve ball

That proclaimed

The furrowed brows,

Pigment stained fingers

Dipping onto the palette

Belonged to the one

My secret love.

The man belonging

with the world but

never with any one.



Do you Like this as a poem or a 100 word story?

Strange Worlds

  Based on a fantasy short story I wrote some years ago but left halfway

The clock chimed 12....all eyes turned to it.


Then a crashing sound from the kitchen snapped everyone's attention... Mother rushed in, almost slipping on the mess on the floor. Meena stood still, with a faraway look in her eyes whilst clutching her left arm. Joy pried away her fingers, watching  in terror and wonder; the dreaded silver words glistening in contrast to her brown skin.

“ Tonight we come” read the words.
 As Joy dragged the compliant girl out of the kitchen, he kept an anxious watch on her.

The family huddled in the small  living room, relatives he had never met stood whispering...older men and women gathered around his great grand mother passing the now yellowing picture around.

Would Tara’s fate be the same as her great grand uncle??...

If pictures could speak, surely it would say a thousand things. Was he alive, could he guide her, would she even meet him and mostly where the hell was he?


 A mystery whose answers weren't even enclosed in a dusty tome, the trembling wrinkled lips which was sworn to secrecy revealing the bare outline.


 For over 600 years, maybe more, every fourth generation, the second oldest child in his family disappeared alone; within, the now in ruins stone temple, on the dawn they turned 16.


The only evidence was an ancient dagger which made its appearance on the very spot they had been, last seen standing, by the rest gathered out of sight, far away in the temple grounds.


Joy had often questioned  the enforced practice.... the constant reply, " The fear of an ancient curse being activated", he openly scoffed at. He was glad he had been born five Min's later but felt for his twin. He had an ace up his sleeve, it all depended on perfect timing..... 










* I didn't know how to end the story...aliens, secret cult, magical world, star gate..... so left it unfinished.

An Unfulfilled Last Wish

At Saturday Centus...there is only one thing that's constant and that is change....
hence a 15 words or less centus with an optional picture (which got me all excited)!!!
Here we go....with Harry Potter and my final adieu to the movies....
my imagination and Jenny's inspiration....Apparate and glide over the other magical spells at her blog Off on my tangent...
 Before I forget...the prompt was "...Before I die I want to..."

By songsnwords | View this Toon at ToonDoo | Create your own Toon

The Watchers

She stood there, watching

the face break into giggles and squeals, 

 brow scrunched in intense concentration,

 a voice that hummed along soft strains

merry feet and giddy moves, 

He stood there watching

the sleep laden lids struggling,

the once palpitating heart, breaking

the listless body drifting

monologues and arguments in emptiness.

They hung there as they always had

through changing walls and rooms

the silent sentinels musing over

the ever changing fortunes

of their mistress and her lady luck.

 painting whispers

 ( based on this glass painting of  RadhaKrishna that my cousin sister Nimmi 

made and gifted for my first wedding anniv. 

 A decade, three cities, a dead relationship later; they still hang on, my precious gift)