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 

Dead Butterflies

They all are dead
Those butterflies
That fluttered
In their stomach.

What killed them -
Lack of flowers?
Pesky predators?
Climate change?

Colorful corpses
Decorate their gut
Decomposing desire
Into graves of grief.

Vacation From Life

I wish to go

on a vacation

Away from Life

For sometime

For some space

Away from everyone

Towards no one

Away from deadlines

Towards start lines

Away from sounds

Towards silence

Away from goals

Towards aimlessness

Away from emotions

Towards stillness

Away from expectations

Towards acceptance

Away from grief

Towards relief

Away from worries

Towards wondering

For sometime

For some space

Away from Life

on a vacation

I wish to go.

Moist Memories

 Yesterday night, I cried myself to sleep
While I was drafting a response
To the letter that you sent 
My response was quite long
But my translation 
of feelings to words
somehow felt wrong
my fingers cramped 
with the effort of writing
So my eyes started watering
to lubricate my fingers 
to also dilute the ink
that was drying off in the pen
I stayed up as long as I could 
not knowing when I fell asleep 
I woke up only when I felt wet
and my bed was floating 
In my room filled with water
It seems like my eyes did not stop
they kept pouring drop by drop
as I snored away in glory 
all my books were floating in the water
along with my memories of you 
while escaping a nasty slip
I frantically searched 
for the letter, I was writing,
for the letter that you wrote 
Only 4 moist blank pages were left
with ink faded away like my tears. 

Blind Justice

We should have known

When each of your siblings succumbed

one by one by one

starting with the one we put into power

We should have known

that eventually even you would be corrupted

that one day you would go steeping into darkness

But who were we kidding?

You always wear a blindfold

I never quite understood why you do that

Is it to escape all the wrongs that take place

while you play with the balance in your hands

Is it to ignore all the rights that are wronged

while you stand playing deaf in large buildings

We mistook you

enamored by your Impeccable ideals

mesmerized by your pretty promises

bamboozled by your weird words

fooled by your bewitching beauty

As you stood there in inaction,

a stale statue of stoical silence

You have just become a puppet

of the puppets of the puppets in power

who destroy every minute detail

of the delusions of democracy

I stand before you in desperation

begging you to wake up from slumber

Ignite your icy irisis and burn your blindfold.

Ew

..EW

I never realized how quickly they grew

When I started all felt good and new

There were many things I never knew

Now my whole universe is askew

When I piled up tasks, they seemed few

But they just multiplied as time flew

I don’t see a clear solution in my view

 avalanche of expectations, I am a shrew

Every morning, hopes disappear like dew

With regrets I end my day with a phew

I have gobbled more than I can chew

I desperately wish to do everything anew

My distractions need to be put into curfew

To complete the pending things in my purview

All my skills and focus need to act as crew

To mend all the tears in thoughts with a sew.

One Night Sit

The sky pours
my anxiety sours
I have so many chores
left to do in my writing course.

Like I am on the deadline
Hoping everything will be fine
the mind has become a landmine
the oasis of ideas is hit by a famine.

I have a small coffee sachet
to kill my sleep like a machete 
as my thoughts burn like an omelet
as the clock plays a Russian roulette.

 
I had given up thrice
like a scared puny mice
made me feel not very nice
hoping the deadline adds some spice. 

As my ideas go nuts 
I munch on boiled peanuts
Fighting my mind's if and buts
As discomfort wriggles in my guts.

It is 3 AM and I am still awake
as strings with words, I try to make
Procrastination is always a mistake
I have this weird sense of being a fake.

I slurp on my dried lips
reaching for the pack of chips
Wishing I had some hummus dips
As my mind ambushes me with quips.

Concentrate on my tasks, I must
Watching an online tour seemed just 
to ensure my plan doesn't kiss the dust
but my mind fiercely personifies wanderlust. 

I fall asleep beside my thought stream
When In my head I heard a silent scream
only to be woken up by an alarm in my dream
And my blank screen taunting me with a gleam.

Dear Sky

 

Dear Sky,
 
    Mystically majestically
        You blanket the whole world
    Clearly cryptically  
        You hold all the stars in place
    Stunningly cunningly
        You act as a veil for puny gods
    Blissfully beautifully
        You are the universe’s saree
    Coincidental and accidental
        You are the canvas of creation.

Wordless

 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑢𝑝 𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠
𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓𝑓
𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡
𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑟
𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙
𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑠𝑒.
𝑁𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑
𝑁𝑜𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑟𝑢𝑛 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙-𝑑𝑎𝑦
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑎𝑡 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚
𝑂𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠,
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑠𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠
𝑇𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑧𝑒
𝑈𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑦-ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟
𝑂𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑔𝑠
𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑢𝑝 𝑚𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠.