Notes from a Diary---Sunday Scribblings

Sunday Scribblings prompt is Diary Writing.

I am writing this from the perspective of my Dairy.
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Dearest Gautami,

I know, I know. I should not write to you. You are the one who writes on me. I look forward to what you write each day. I have been with you for long that at times I think I am you. Well, almost.

My leather bound cover is tattered but you love me as much as you love your own self. You get paranoid when you cannot find me. I have known you to panic and wanted to tell you not to. I can look after myself for you. I always am at the same secret place. However, you are forgetful and look for me at other familiar places.

We have been through so much together. I am privy to all your secrets, your despair, your joy, your thoughts, your feelings. Sometimes your sadness has cut me to quick and your joys have lifted me up. I have wanted to hug you through that darkest phase of your life but you with your head held so high, never let anyone erode your protective covering. I admire you for not letting go of your dignity, not giving in to it. Your ability to get going under any circumstances has made me proud of being your diary. I know I am your outlet to all your thoughts. You write so haphazardly sometimes, but it is so lucid and clear to me.

I am saddened too when you try to articulate and no words come out. You stare at me blankly, anguish writ large on your façade. Then I do not know how to reach out. I wish so much to dispel your fears, your glooms but I cannot. I am only your diary. I want to be your diary for eternity.

As always,
Your dear diary

Waiting......[Fiction] Friday

This week, [Fiction] Friday asks us to pick an adult character (it can be a new character, an established character, or even a famous character from fiction) and write a scene where the character demonstrates one of the following child-like habits:

Drinks chocolate milk when (s)he has a bad day
Sleeps cocooned in bedsheets or blankets
Constantly twists hair around finger
Pulls the crust off of any sandwich they eat
Often makes sound effects when talking to themself
Must sleep with a particular stuffed animal or blanket
Stomps foot when angry
Overuses Ketchup (both too much, and too often)
Hoards personal belongings (books, CDs, etc.) in their bed
Loudly, and badly, drums on books, tables, etc.

Continuing from where I left off last week, lured into lord's lair:

she stomped her foot,
loudly drumming on that side table
asking for food.
her hunger was ravenous.
when the lord fetched the food,
she pulled crusts off the sandwich,
pouring half a bottle of ketchup on it-
washed it with drinking chocolate
replenished, she fell into the bed.
cocooning in bed sheets and blankets
she talked to herself, trying to sleep,
twisting her hair unconsciously.
she missed her stuffed grey elephant,
turning she found her favourite
carved knife under her pillow.

waiting soundlessly for the lord
in order to plunge it into his heart!!
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It is really fun to write with that no-edit rule. It suits me fine!
As you can see, this character demonstrates all those child-like habits..:D

Trick of Being Scientific----Poetry Thursday

nowadays, emphasis should more on the scientific-
studies which can be comprehended with proofs
explanations are to be simple with no blatant tricks.

learning process should never make any one sick-
taking all those in a stride, uncaring of any spoofs.
nowadays, emphasis should more on the scientific.

mind to be nurtured with extreme care brick by brick-
stimulation provided for thinking out of the loops,
explanations are to be simple with no blatant tricks.

there is nothing in the discipline no one cannot pick;
knowledge to be paramount, never considered goofs.
nowadays, emphasis should more on the scientific,

which makes commencement of it appealing to click
in psyche, taking child’s intelligence beyond the roofs;
explanations are to be simple with no blatant tricks.

paradoxes prove the rule, learning has to be quick,
certain theories though tricky made easy in groups.
nowadays, emphasis should more on the scientific-
explanations are to be simple with no blatant tricks.

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* I was not very satisfied with my original post. I have played around a bit. Even now I am not much satisfied with it. As I said once before, villanelles are killers.

**I am feeling very sad about the announcement of closure of Poetry Thursday. I wish all the best to Rob Kistner if he hosts PT or starts a new poetry site.

Bundle of joy----3WW

Burning
Quietly
Taxi

She wakes up with a start and checks on her infant son. His skin is no longer burning. Fever has come down. She falls to her knees, still holding him and sobs quietly so as not wake her husband in the other room. She rains his face with kisses and holds him tight. Tired, she falls asleep again holding him to her heart right on the floor of the nursery.

Next morning, her husband finds her thus sleeping peacefully with almost a child like expression. Without reacting, he turns and talks to someone on his cell phone.

“It can’t go on like this much longer. I will bring her today,” he says and calls for a taxi.

He gets ready, wakes her up, and looks with grimace at the bundle on her chest. Gently lifting it, he puts it on the cradle. Holding her close, he says, “It is time to let go, my love. Today onwards, we will both undergo counselling until you get better. Our son has been dead for four years and we both need to deal with it.”

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It is a true account. She recovered and has two children now.

expurgation-----monday poetry train

I was dared by within without to write about purging. He probably assumed I won't take it. How could I not?!

**Warning: This might hurt a few sensibilities....

staidly sitting, stance so straight
with a thoughtfully morose façade,
looking ahead at a point in front-

all set to take charge, pondering
he concentrates on the deed to be
done, which is essential although

talking about is deemed uncouth.
sharp shooting pains do not help
the cause. rather hinder, putting

superfluous pressure. he heaves,
huffs and puffs; with a splutter
all gets cleared, respite palpable

on his visage, he gets up gingerly
feeling great deal better. flushing
with much gusto missing hitherto-

purged, he feels relief, unfettered.
emptying his bowels of that clutter!
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Check out monday poetry train....

Coping Mechanism-----Sunday Scribblings

Sunday Scribbling has got Goosebumps this week.

Goosebumps are body’s reflexes. We have no control over those. Listening to certain kind of music or just about something that jolts us. Passion too gives rises to those. Scary situations do bring about Goosebumps.

I have always taken these as signals of the body, which prepare the mind to cope. We can call those as cope up mechanism. When my dad slipped and fell down, his hipbone was fractured. He had to be operated upon but he never recovered from that. He fell unconscious and never regained consciousness. When he passed away, and I was informed about it, my mind went blank. I kept staring at the goose bumps formed on my arms and remember asking my brother why that happened and what was wrong. With no further thoughts, I went about the business of getting our dad home before the cremation. I cannot explain but that state of mindlessness helped me cope with the immediate grief. I still grieve for him but time has healed that to some extent. Five years gone but it seems like yesterday.

i stare at nothing
grieving for you.
goose pimples appear
out of nowhere.

I am happy enough for now as my dad would have wanted me to.

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Get more goose bumps......

lured into lord's lair...[Fiction] Friday

I found another writing prompt known as [fiction] friday.This week's prompt is to use as many words from the following:

barge flare harsh ordinary sore
bore floor hoard rare torch
carve folklore lair scorn tore
fare gorge lord snare unicorn
flair hare marvelous soar warn

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lured into lord's lair

sore from sitting all day
on the floor,
heart tore to bits,
harsh reality flares
in deep gorge of her mind.
she rues the day, she was snared
by his false charm.
lured into his lair
facing scorn from all.
one of those rare times, her
family had tried to warn her
about how ordinary people
like them should not
dream high. as time passes,
darkness prevails, her lord barges in
with the torch, his eyes boring
into her downcast head.
she ignores his marvellous profile,
her flair for dramatics intact
in case he decides to
torture her further.
studiously ignoring her, he retreats
after serving her delicious
pieces of cooked hare,
hunted, carved and hoarded
from last summer.
somewhat satisfied
she falls asleep with soaring dreams
of an unicorn flying in to save her
like in folklores she reads.

Does she wish to escape?

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There is a no editing rule. So under the circumstances, this was the best I could write. I will write another part of this story next week trying to tie the lose ends.

tarnished green sheen----poetry thursday

veined with an antique
design, turquoise stones
alternated with amethysts,
links entwined delicately,
bluish tarnish enhance
green sheen, glistening
with orange radiance
with a purplish tinge.
charms tinkle with
jingling reverberation.

sold in a by-lane
veiled from prying eyes,
silver bracelet-
blackened by time
(or is it oxygen?)
portraying character-

awaits a wrist worthy of it.

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I am not much of a silver person. Recently I bought an antique silver bracelet with amethyst. I have not taken it off since. It looks even better with the oxidized look it has got now. I think tarnished silver looks much better, maybe I am biased.

psychedelic pajamas-----terza rima----3WW

Determined
Pajamas
Yield

psychedelic pajamas

those summer months added to woes-
quenching that thirst, eating until sate,
nothing much to do in hunger’s throes.

enhanced girth cannot be taken as fate;
image faithfully mirrored brings lows-
sense of unworthiness has added to hate.

much loved printed, psychedelic pajamas
do not fit any more. determined I yank
those up with a huff, looking like a llama.

jolted out by that representation akin a tank-
pictures in my mind move in slowly; drama
enacted of other unknown horrors. frank

self-appraisal does yield results. vigorously
i start exercise regime. one hour jogging,
half hour yoga, dietary habits rigorously

changed. with good metabolism, dogging
is not too bad. better that than self-flogging!

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This is somewhat true-to-account terza rima apart from the pajamas bit...:D

Snake and Mongoose-----Sunday Scribblings

Hello folks, it is good to be back. This break was enforced upon me. First, my server was down due to the rains. Then someone stole the telephone cables which made the ADSL broadband redundant! When that was set right, my modem went kaput and needed to be replaced. Today everything seems ok.

Good thing was, I read like mad!! Now I am going to catch up with all of you.

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I wrote this one in the period of my enforced break. But this suits the Sunday Scribblings prompt, decision. This works at many levels. I must not forget to mention Monday Poetry Train.

Snake and Mongoose

slithering smoky snake
suspended to strike
slips and spins over

on smooth surface
self-respect in shreds

massive mongoose
with malicious eyes
materializes

out of nowhere
meanders towards

that hissing snake
to strike that huge
reptilian head.

eternal enemies from
eons gauge each other.

mongoose pauses
with a non-committal
gaze, turns around

to go the other way
leaving snake alone.

with no fight left,
reptile breathes easy
closes its eyes relieved.

just as the mind eases
mongoose strikes for kill.

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I was awarded by scarlett.

This was started by Christy Z:

"For those who answer blog comments, emails, and make their visitors feel at home on their blogs. For the people who take others feelings into consideration before speaking out and who are kind and courteous. Also for all of those bloggers who spend so much of their time helping others bloggers design, improve, and fix their sites. This award is for those generous bloggers who think of others."

Thanks scarlett and Christy.

I will get around nominating for this in a few days.