Poetry

Little Gusts of Wind

   

A little gust of wind scampers around –

Tousling the trees

Nudging the leaves

tickling the grass

Shooing the clouds above.

A little gust of wind scampers around –

shoving the mountains

whistling at the sky

tripping on the seas

puncturing ripples in them.

A little gust of wind scampers around

teasing my hair

ruffling my clothes.

In all its banter

it stops for a second,

Stirring my soul

Waking something deep within.

WordPress Daily prompt :Scamper

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Life lessons, Poetry

Strangers exchange

Strangers meet at an airport

Lugging their own trolley bags,

Spilling its contents :

Butterflies they had caught,

Causes for which they’ve fought,

Epiphanies and reality checks,

The experiences of foreign treks;

The foot prints of all that they’d left behind,

Beliefs of the body, soul and mind.

Somewhere in the exchange,

The strangers are encased

In a hybrid bubble

with scents of both their lives :

Together, afresh,

They Blossom anew.

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Poetry

Book Mad !

The clock ticks nine!

Lights out already ?

Too soon for a bookworm.

Night light under bed sheets,

Committing my own secret crime

to figure out who did commit the crime.

No way ! An anti-hero ?

It can’t be, it can’t be.

My eyes glued to the paper

totally immersed in the words

determined to follow them

to the very end.

Uh-oh, my battery dies.

I run up to my dad

to let me read for another minute,

just one last page.

He fails to comprehend

the gravity of the situation.

He says tomorrow. Tomorrow ?

But- but- What about the sad princess

who’s waiting for me

and the wicked sorcerer

who has her in his clutches?!

Alas, if only adults knew

what was important and what was not.

WordPress Daily prompt : Total

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Poetry

True sounding lie

running man

 

Running breathlessly,

The finish line evasive as ever.

Alone in the hunt –

Inspired creation abandoned,

Bidden goodbye a decade ago.

Chased by dreary shadows

Of a fluid ideal,

Encased by ghosts of

an undefinable exemplar

that haunt me in my slumber :

Madness is my pursuit

that survives through

mythical tales –

tales of Paragon, of perfection.

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Poetry

Residue

You eased the needle through me

Slid it in, out, in, out

As though I were to be woven.

You branded me with holes,

Now I wear them pretty moles.

Questions asked, fears alleviated

In those bare spaces you created.

Faded marks, now jaded memories,

Grown dim, feeble, flickering –

Never can they be extinguished.

Better to be torn and taped

Than to be broken and replaced.

WordPress Daily Prompt : Puncture

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Myriad Musings

So I hear ..

You yell at me in fury. You make a big fuss, throw tantrums and hurl accusations. I hear the silent pleas to notice that you’re hurt : pleas muffled under your siren-like screams. It doesn’t escape my ear. I pacify.

You whisper in the language of love to me as we reminisce over sweet nothings. Amidst those hushed, soft sing-song notes, I hear your longing for more, loud and clear. I yield.

There are times when your tone is high and squeaky. In the fluctuating fervour of your frenzy, I hear non-negotiable orders for things to be done just right. I consent.

When sentences fall out of you in measured monotones, I feel the facade of strength you erect to appear matter-of-fact and unfazed. Yet, I can’t help but hear the shrieks of agony calling out for help. I comply.

You’re gone, only for the fortnight, and there is a spooky stillness enslaving the air. The roads we take and the home we made are resonant reminders that recite scintillating stories of you. Memories abound, I’m surrounded by your sound. Isn’t it funny that your volume becomes too vociferous for me, only in the silence you set free ?

WordPress Daily prompt : Volume

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