Friday, 21 April 2017

hand in hand, let us walk...

                                           Google Images

moon goes in mourning,
she silently withdraws fading;
her tears go unseen, dewdrops settling
paints another day, her tear drops are entrancing,
they speak her rebirth, she comes back evolving;
there is no constant existence, every night fragmenting
happens, and day smiles with another reality evolving---
my love, I am another moon, dwindling and mushrooming---
i will give you my familiar, plain days and nights if you be walking,
walking with me on these uneven paths of shifting reality, your hands in mine, holding… 

Visit dVerse Poets Pub for Open Link Night and IGWRT for love poems

Wednesday, 19 April 2017

Post Card Poem

nights hung on window;
moon stayed aloof;
i wrote my heart on clouds,
on wandering lonely clouds;
it’s still summer, choking, retching fire;
with rain you will get my heart,
come and shower on me…

Visit dVerse Poets Pub for post card poem


                                              Google Image

She kept her first steps into the new city. And that night a thundering sound awakened her from the deep sleep, her half-sleepy eyes wandered all around, the building wall opposite her window reflected light like fire…her ears got deafened by repeated bursting. A flash of a thought crossed---blast, fire---she ran to her kids’ room. They were sleeping tight. From the window she could see dancing flames of fire. Nothing was clear, the sleep still held her half-conscious mind; she called her husband in sheer fear. He came to her and stared out, “Oh, my God, one of the car parked in the road side has caught fire, I think their water hose is not working properly, the other car and a third one also caught fire.” They both came fully out of their sleep; fire engine’s shrilling sound echoed, finally the fire fighting team arrived. Hard work for almost hours and the fire like a serpent coiled back and vanished. Fire is her greatest fear, a fear that infiltrated in the dead silence of a deep sleep.

Owl hoots through night and
Summer tries to cool down its pangs
Creepy shadows bloom

Visit dVerse Poets Pub for poems on fear!

Thursday, 13 April 2017

Romancing life

                                                                 Google Image

colour-smeared rustic aisle
like a picture fallen out of an old case;
feet plunged into thick colour puddles,
trees are textured brown-and-grey tints
heavily painted on to sky’s sublime milieu
this aisle starts from a chair among scattered books,
i breathe words among scattered books;
here i catch moon, sun and stars to my bandana,
the world’s an ocean of self-proclaimed sanity;
from among books, words fly as butterflies, insane,
in between lines i catch whales---
beyond colours dark and light exists, hand in hand---
the oldest of the old whale whispers secrets,
my ears are again books, needed to be engraved;
words are butterflies, insane,
i search for dark and light wisdom
to weave a net to catch all insane secrets;
i breathe words among scattered books
and sleep dreams among spilled out colours,
let them carry me high, carry me high
to leave the whales and butterflies back in books
for lots and lots of me will come back in search…

Visit Poets United for poems on books

Tuesday, 11 April 2017

summer sweats

Google Images

the fire globe perched on sky rains fire, unswervingly;
street boils its distant memories of trees;
burning wind kisses faces, whispering distinctively
as silent consciousness inside dreams of solid walls;
AC drizzles on hot walls an irresolute sense,
bygone forests and towering city dreams…

Going through one of the hottest summer

Friday, 7 April 2017

I am a mere dust in the whole universe......

                                           Google Image

he* has just begun his day; they say he is fifty-one years old,
i am in my thirties, i wonder at his creation;
i assure myself, I will see the world, and i have time enough;
when i will be leaving this 3-D world, if time allows
at 70 or 80 or at any time, he will still be spending his first day,
probably his morning rituals going
with a lot more time than i can imagine
for I am a moth for him as a moth is for me;
time wraps around space, that much space that i can hold,
that much space i can behold, that much space i take;
so is my lifespan only so much that much i take
in this whole universe? then i will expand with my vision
to see those space times i missed, to glance at the whole
that’s coming and that’s always there,
where, maybe the demonic dramas of boundaries, religion and profits,  
the dramas we see every day may not make sense
but maybe the time of light will evolve in front of the sight!

Visit Imaginary Garden with Real Toads for poems on 4-D space time

Sleep tight, wake up jolly!

                                           Google Image

Days are friends with the night
And night a fairy who owns a dream plate;
A scoop of creamy mount topped with
A wizardo- cookie, the moon
And a thousand sizzling rock candies strewn;
A scrumptious scoop and you are thrown
To the fairy land of magic spinning shrubs,
Singing flowers, dancing butterflies
 And story-weaving brooks and there resides
Toward the ocean, an elephant and a whale;
Two mighty friends who carry the earth on turns,
Make friends with them, the two gentle forces
And have the magical potion of wisdom;
Take a nap under the gigantic, reviving trees
And in the morning the plump old man,
The ever smiling gregariously adoring sun
Will pat you up for a day to explore
A quirky, tricky, funny, zealous world;
Open the eyes and clap your hands,
Tap your foot and chuckle a bit and go!

Visit Imaginary Garden with Real Toads to celebrate children's poetry with Stacie

And dVerse poets pub for Open Link Night

Wednesday, 5 April 2017

a play of light and shadow

“You can’t reason with your heart; it has its own laws, and thumps about things which the intellect scorns.” – Mark Twain------Visit Prompt Nights for 'light is easy to love. Show me your darkness' prompt...

                                                                    Google Image

That first summer when I was all alone at home, I realized that the nights are totally different from the days and it is not because of the presence and absence of light but the difference is all about the presence of shadows. There are shadows in our mind and out there in the darkness. A shadow is creepier in darkness and it can cling to anywhere; it just needs a single sip of light to burgeon and the mind a single bit of doubt to shatter into a thousand pieces of fear. And the bits mirror each other intensifying the pangs of doubt and fear.

I locked my room, switched on the light and chanted the mantras to summon the light of intellect back. When you are tired and had done your duty, you sleep like a baby.

Snow-white lilies
Quart jar, white textured wall
Shadows paint contours

Friday, 31 March 2017

The crow picks stones for water, and we…

If we don't place the straitjacket of gender roles on young children, 
we give them space to reach their full potential.” 
― Chimamanda Ngozi AdichieDear Ijeawele,

                                                         Poems on 'Gender' at Poets United

                                                    Poems with Irony at dVerse Poets Pub

To write a poem and provide annotation at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

sitting on the window
i watch a dozen more buildings,
as rich as a neat hand work;[CE1] 

on my canvas i paint fresh fruits---
green leaves, red apples, oranges
and many more shades,
a bit bumpy a bit shallow at places;

there are only doves[CE2]  outside,
they make nests on buildings
searching, surveying,
he or she may have plans
for sun is nearer this summer;[CE3] 

there are more doves outside,
they make nests on buildings
and some engineers are surveying
the new skyscraper on the street
budding, growing---
hill-view flats, their attraction;
the lonely crow caws,
 he or she surveys the JCB
men and women are employed there,
and they are being dug out
for houses and buildings are
to be built in millions and millions
maybe this time with… [CE4] 
a deserted valley-view attraction

the crow, he or she, prudently picks life’s stones
for his or her half empty bowl of water;
men and women are digging the earth beneath the feet;
men, women, crow and all…[CE5] 

 [CE1]The green highlighted areas show the irony of life (bumpy and neat, nature and luxury, real and unreal) of things we choose and things we yearn.

 [CE2]Doves in urban area stands for human disrespect toward nature.

 [CE3]Yellow highlighted  area shows how two creations with almost equal cognitive abilities choose their way of life on earth. The prudence matters.

 [CE4]The voice used stands for human urgency toward suicidal things, knowledge and intelligence becomes a mocking irony.

 [CE5]Gender is all about prudence, it is all about how we are brought up, the way we choose to live, how we perceive our natural instincts and respect them.

Even though I am not good in annotating, I tried my best.

Thursday, 30 March 2017


Google Image

sometimes it is like a creaky door
heavy and morose  
things inside sound like a carpenter’s workshop
i wait with a blank face, silently
and that is when i want to grow into a forest;
all leaves, trees, barks, pebbles and rich soil,
rough textures and raw smells;
that’s when i realize,
the root of life is far;
cities have overgrown
and i am slowly diminishing
into mechanical sounds…

Visit Imaginary Garden with Real Toads for more poems....