Time's up

For months, I have felt we haven't seen each other. We have met each other - spoken, heard and laughed for hours. Yet it seems like eons since I have seen you. I have been counting seconds to when you would get a vacation from all the responsibilities that have stolen you away from me. I have been waiting and playing hopscotch with the hands of the clock. 

Tomorrow, I am going to meet you. I am flooded with anticipation like the desert sand at the mirage of a cloud. "To be pretty for you I have dropped two seeds of turnsole in the dark of both eyes." 

I see you coming from distance. My heartbeats rhyme with your footsteps. You are here now.  'Would owning all the watches and clocks give one the ability to stop time?' I wishfully wonder.  Time's up. We leave. 

Written for the Prosery prompt at dVerse Poets Pub, to write a prose in under 144 words including the deliciously beautiful line -“To be pretty for you I have dropped two seeds of turnsole in the dark of both eyes.”   from Isabel Duarte-Gray's lovely poem Garden  

  

D.I.M.H

 YOU
PRISTINELY PRESERVED
FROM THE TYRANNY OF TIME
IN THE SANCTUM SANCTORUM
OF A TEMPLE OF THOUGHTS
IN MY NOSTALGIC NECROPOLIS

YOU
APPEAR AFFECTIONATELY
FROM RHAPSODIC RUINS
WHEN I AM DISTRAUGHT
BEYOND DECISIONS AND DESIRE
BETWEEN RIGHTS AND WRONGS

YOU
SMOOTHLY SOOTHING
LIKE A FROZEN DESSERT
IN A SCORCHING DESERT
MY EXCLUSIVE ELUSIVE ELIXIR
FOR THE DISEASE OF REALITY.

Poetry - My Damsel In Shining Armor

   The moment she left, I felt utterly empty yet my mind was overflowing with feelings. I couldn't find the courage to speak to any friend. I didn't want to burden them with my emotions. And when I did muster the courage to speak, I was at a loss of words. That's when poetry came to my rescue as my damsel in shining armor. I never realized until I attempted writing that "The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart."

   My amorphous feelings found solace in the structure of poems. Poetry became a beloved friend, who would listen without interrupting, without judgement, without unsolicited advices. I began reading to learn more about her. The more I learn of her, the more there is to learn. Now I don't speak to her so often but I know she's still here. Poetry is still here. 

  Written for the Prosery prompt at dVersePoets by Michelle Beauchamp to use the line 'The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart.' from the poem "Winged Words" by Valsa George 

Origami Rose

I wished to give you a rose

A rose that doesn't wilt

A rose that doesn't dry

I went to the florist

She did not have such a flower

I went to a garden

It did not have such a flower

So I took a sheet of paper

and made an origami rose

but it lacked color and scent

so I colored it red

and dipped it in a rose perfume

when I took it out

It smelt like a real rose

but its color had faded

So I kept it in a compartment

Where it can be constantly colored

with the color red of my blood

but now I cannot give it to you

as It smells of my blood

So I bathe myself profusely

in the same rose perfume

And give you myself.

I thought I will not think of you

It happens every year. I make many resolutions. I want to do some things and not do many things to make my life better. Every year ends up being the same after a few days. It feels like everything is out of control and I get wafted away in the turbulent flow of time. 'This year's a different thing, I’ll not think of you' , I affirm to myself every day, every morning as soon as I wake up to an army of alarms. I try not to think of you and your words. But I fail always, you have become a personification of all the negative things my mind says to me. I loved your articulateness and now it has become the ghost that haunts me. Sometimes, I manage to keep you away from thoughts only to be spooked by you in my dreams. 

 Written for the prosery prompt  at dVerse Poets to use the phrase "This year’s a different thing, – I’ll not think of you" within a prose/ flash fiction of 144 words or less