A common enough story in broken lines

This is raw and unedited. One instant writing. Feel free to critique it. And do not forget to ride the Monday Poetry Train either.

piggybacking her, he walked out to the sun
Her pallor was so pale like washed out colour of the moon
Her sickness had lasted all through the winter
She whimpered, it was a good sound after her quietness
He smiled and tickled her almost skeletal ribs
High pitched, she laughed out loud
He carried her to the reclining chair,
Sitting her on his lap, wrapped his arms around her
Her thin arms reached his neck and she smothered him with tiny kisses
He felt intense happiness
She was asleep in no time
Doctors had given up on her
He had immense faith
He could not afford to lose her
She was all he had for the last six years since he had lost all his family
He had had no time time grieve for them
What was gone was gone
One lived for the living

What had he really given up
Only a stupid university degree
The land took care of their needs
He would never uproot her from her legacy
Whispering sweet nothings, he pulled his little sister closer

Spaced out----Sunday Scribblings

Her gold hoops touched her shoulders when she moved.
Those suited her classic features and olive complexion.
Nonchalant about her surroundings, she sipped at her tea.
Company was not welcome.
Coping with death of a long time partner was not easy.
Everyone knew, she was learning to live without him
Sadness in her demeanour was not very encouraging for anyone to approach
Respectful of her wishes, no one intruded upon her solitude
Paying for her tea, she walked out
Head held high, a smile playing on her lips
She shopped for grocery, all her favourite things
It could not have come sooner, his death
She welcomed wholeheartedly the space in her life and her fridge
The arsenic had done its work well

endless possibilities

Lately his fluidity of motion was gone
He was controlled with a sense that was somehow scary to her
He was out in the flowing river barely visible, she kept looking at time.
She had made sure, their watches synchronised.
Swimming back, without a word, he lay down besides her
Barely noticing her
Something has changed, she could not figure out the reason
His manner towards her was like painting, very formal, careful strokes
At night, he could not stay away from her
His passion burning bright like stars
Come daylight, as if the stars did not exist
She considered all the bad possibilities
It was a dive into the unknown
Whale’s song intruded into her thoughts
She shivered beside him
Turned towards him, she buried her face into his neck
He pulled her closer, sharing his warmth with her
Changed? Nothing had changed
His love for her had ripened
It could only get better with age

10 to 10---I did 11!

I have been tagged by Juliet Wilson for this. The idea is to do ten verses about me, and then issue the challenge to ten others. As it about writing poetry, I decided to do the meme. This is not in any particular order. Here I take Option Three: Pick Three of Cafe Writing February Project. Pick any three words from: astonished, conclusion, drown, gilded, hands, magnify, snow, time. Also for [Fiction] Friday Challenge: Flip a coin. Heads, and your characters hates Valentine's Day, Tails, and they love it. Now come up with the reason your character feels the way they do.

rock music playing loudly, I drown-
synchronising my steps,
my fingers tap furiously on the keyboard-

I write my dancing thoughts,
giving it a semblance of order
magnified in the form of poetry.

mathematics equates to my line of work
where I interact with children-
goggle eyed to receive knowledge.

green earth attracts, soothes-
earthy browns, mustard yellows
willow in my mind’s vision.

internal dialogues are nothing new
for me. I resolve my problems talking to
myself out of it or into it.

smell of books draw me into a world
so very different from my own-
teaching me so much while doing so.

holding a cup of tea, I savour that aroma-
indulging myself with many a cup
filled with antioxidants, over the day.

my finger rings reflect the rays of the sun-
my only weakness in jewellery;
no other embellishments interest me.

loose tees, many pocketed cargos along
with snickers, is my favourite attire-
comfort being the keyword always.
withdrawing into myself, I like being alone
in my own skin. loneliness is a word
which is not there in my dictionary

spewing disapproval on vulgar display
of love, it matters not a fig, flipping coin
may go either way for valentine!

conclusion in a nutshell is that I lead
a pretty normal, boring life-
wishing for scandals in abundance.

Now the tagging bit! Instead of 10, I am tagging 11!

Catherine,
chris sapp,
Don Iannone,
dnake1,
floots,
ghost particle,
ozymandiaz,
steve
square1,
tammy,
tumblewords

All my poet/non-poet friends are welcome to do the meme. Remember, you have to write ten things about yourself in verse form!

Packed and Delivered---Totally Optional Prompts

Package arrived in the late afternoon, around lunchtime.
He was glad that there was no one else to see him sign for it
Valentine day was round the corner.
He wanted to surprise here with this particular gift.
What woman could resist the shiny sheen
After thirty-seven years, he knew her inside out, her interests, her likes, dislikes
With the thoughts of giving this mystery gift to her, familiar feelings warmed his insides
He opened the packaged, touched it, admiring the craftsmanship
Held in his hand, swirled it, appreciative of the finishing
He could not wait to get home, see the astonished look in her eyes before she closed it
It was a dream present by any standards

Day passed so slow like dawn ascending from darkness in a rain filled cloudy night
The package burned a hole in his jacket pocket.
Anticipation was almost killing him
Driving with maddening pace, he arrived before the grand party
Turned the key, he felt day light knocked out him
He fell on the creamy tiles, his splattered brains trickling over, colouring those bright red
He was never to know, she had ordered a similar package, containing the slickest of guns.

“She got to him, before he got to her”

Introducing myself by the way of poetry---3WW

Bridge, Disturbed, Still

sb poet of watermark fame wants us to introduce ourselves. In the way of poetry. No, not by writing poetry. That I will do in another post for which I was tagged. I have taken her questions too. Please do introduce yourself here or on your blog. Just don't forget to link back here or to sbpoet! You can change these questions or make your own.

• Do you read poems?
• If no, why not?
• Do you write poems?
• If yes, whatever for?
• What, for you, makes a poem a good poem?

Do you read poems?

Yes, of course I read poetry. I read all the older as well as newer poets, Shakespeare, Wordsmith, Keats, Byron, Browning, Burns, Frost, Yeats, Syvia Plath (Some may get disturbed reading Plath but her words carry a lot of power), Dorothy Parker, Mary Oliver, Emily Dickinson, Charles Simic to name only a few.

Do you write poems? If yes, whatever for?

Yes, I do. All the time. I taught myself to write it. Why do I write it? To give an outlet to my creativity, I take up a lot of social issues in my poetry. I give vent to my feelings. I express myself via poetry. Poetry helps me understand myself. Poetry can bridge the gap left by emotional upheaval, in our heart and soul. It gives me a certain direction. There is some compulsion to write it down. Sometimes it gushes out. Others, I make myself write it. Many times what I intended to write flows in another direction. I seldom write intensly personal poetry. Or love poetry. Still, reading poetry is more pleasurable than writing it down.

What, for you, makes a poem a good poem?

That which moves me deeply, creates vivid images in my mind, is well worded, conveys by speaking out to me. Understanding the poem is important. Using words, which don't make sense fails in the very purpose of poetry writing. Symbolism too should be such which touches our very soul. I like both simple poetry as well as complicated ones.

What puts you off while reading poems ? Online or otherwise?

I will take online poetry. Most are written instantly and are really good. However, I am put off by misspellings and bad or improper usage of punctuations. (*Update: I corrected it here. I think it distracted people from talking about what I wrote before.)

Making my day excellently!

**Do visit my other blog and leave your comments for a very interesting post for a novel written to be by me.

In the past week, I got two awards from 3 blogging friends. For this blog, I was given two awards, You make my day award from Marie and Excellent award from Sage. I also received You make my day award from Dewey for my other blog, My Own Little Reading Room, where I mostly write reviews and book related posts. That blog is updated 3-4 days a week. This one, 5-6 days a week.

Now one has to pass on these awards to 10 other blogging friends giving reasons for bestowing those. 10 for each award makes it 20! Mind you, the list is alphabetical. As for as I am concerned, both carry equal weightage.

First I take the You make my day award.



Framed: A book blogger. I like her way of reviewing books. Very cool and objective. I have added a few to my TBR pile from her reading lists and reviews.

Floots: His poetry is, I feel out of this world. Reading it takes us on a journey of sorts. His photographs are awesome. I like his dry humour in his works.

Literary Feline: She too writes cool reviews. I like her booking through thursdays posts as well as friday fill in posts. Best thing is, I like her name!

Pat Paulk: He writes truly beautiful poetry on mundane things of life. I caanot even imagine how he does it. Someday I hope I can write such beautiful poetry on the most ordinary of things. Do go read his poetry. You will know what I mean.

Polona: She writes beautiful haigas. To the point and precise. Her pictures are very good.

Ravenous Reader: I have known her for her poetry and prose pieces. However, she has started this book blog and I finding visiting this blog more often. I like her posts..reviews, reflections on reading etc. BTW, she is always giving out books! That is one reason you must visit her. :D

Remiman: He writes both poetry and prose. Posts a lot of pictures too. It is a pleasure to read him. I like his sense of humour.

Rose Dewy Knickers: One of the best minds I have come across. She is as cool as Brian. I would say, more. After all, she is my blogging sister. Her posts hit hard. I truly love her.

Sage: He has the ability to make places and people come out alive for you. His travelogues are too good. His book reviews are very well done. He reads mostly non-fiction and with his reviews, he tempts me to do the same. I am waiting for the day when he publishes his travelogues and I write a review for that!

Tammy: Her posts are ever so positive. She is a classic example to how to survive in adversity. She does not seek sympathy. She makes it worth while that life has to be lived despite what comes.

tumblewords: Her art work and poetry complement each other. One of the best poets on the blog world.


Now taking the excellent awards:

Bone: He has a fish named Gabe Kaplan. I don't think I need to say more.

Juliet otherwise known as craftygreen poet: She works towards saving the environment by her poetry. She does posts on recycling. Her posts are very near to nature, the earth and all things contained in it. She reads like anything. I find the coolest books mentioned on her blog. Her poetry is very down to earth.

Donn Coppens otherwise known as homo escapeons: I think I can't really describe him. The datas he comes with for anything in the universe has to be read, no matter what. He taxes my brains. At times, I have been known to scratch my head after reading his posts. No, not because of lice. Maybe, I do not understand what he says...:D

Dewey: No Dewey, I am not giving this as a return one. I think your blog deserves this. You have unknowingly, encouraged me to join challenges. I have picked many books from your reviews. Of course, you are one generous book giver! Folks, another great reason to visit her!

John Mutford: Another book blogger who posts are really good. He writes about book, authors, poets. Very refreshing posts. His The Great Wednesay Compare has to be read and participated. Check him out, folks!

Keith Hillman: I simply love his story telling. I would say he is an excellent prose writer. His stories about one of his friend Rosie, are too good to be missed. All of us love her already.

Mike McCulley: Another poet whose work is awesome. He can tell us a whole story in a poem. With vivid pictures.

Tara Bradford/Paris Parfait: She gives us great glimpses of Paris. Its art, culture. You name it, she has it. Her blog is not be missed.

Rethabile: He showcases brilliant poets on his blog. Which we would have missed otherwise. He himself writes beautiful poetry. That, which hits hard.

Paul Martin: He has a spiritual blog. Very reflective and thinking posts. One has to visit original faith to know more about him. I admire Paul, his spirit.

Within Without: He is as excellently wacky as his friend, H.E.! I can't leave him out. I don't want them to fight over who deserves it more. Chris, I love you as much as I love Donn, if not more!


Well, I chose 11 for each! You can proudly display the awards, pass it on or do whatever you want to. Throw it even!

one day in the life of a sari

deep mystical eyes with bronzed skin-
silk sari with shades of green,
draping it around, she did preen.
encircling thin golden chain
on her waist added to the sheen.

movement so graceful, fluidly flowing.
hair raven-black, wavy, cascading,
lights from amber sunset, flickering;
richness of her attire, gleaming;
happiness within her sparkling

suddenly her joy was under attack.
every plan of hers went awry, off track
she slipped, almost damaging her back.
now laying on her bed, her mood so black,
gnawing her lower lip looked at an almanac!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is a true account. Kind of narcissistic, isn't it? For three days, I could not move from my bed.

*Update: This happened a long time ago. Now my back is perfectly ok. With regular walks and Exercise.

Do ride the Monday Poetry Train

nothing much

cold, cloudy day. chilled to bones.
standing by the window, nose pressed to glass,
she watches the mist flying by-
hard pressed to see through all that snow.

serrated broken crayons lie there abandoned.
smudged sheet, a mute witness for scrawled lines.
bleakness of weather is beauty for a child
no school, no subsequent homework.

with a sweet smile breaking into her facade
she enjoys enforced break from studies-
wishing for more such wintery rains.
for children, drabness translates to magic.

Fouled up, have you?----Sunday Scribblings

Foul reminds me of everything negative. It is a negative word, after all. We all say, it is so foul, he/she fouled it up, what a foul soul! He/she always plays foul. Something or the other, to this effect. I feel gross is not foul. Gross is well... stinky.

Talking of foulest stench, in India, you cannot avoid garbage dumps even in a place like Delhi or Mumbai. One can see it spilling all over the place. Only way to deal with such a problem is to create awareness. We teachers do try to do it in our own ways. For that, one has to inculcate a feeling of belonging. Public property is considered that, public. No one is responsible for it. So damage, litter, foul it up. Keep your homes clean but who cares about the streets or roads. That is attitude of most people, even the so-called educated ones. I have been my sarcastic best. It has not helped in anyway. Nothing has.

Leaving that, let us talk about certain people and their behaviour. Black-hearted people are revolting, no doubt. However, here I am not going to dwell on that. I want to speak about those who really mess up their lives and then crib about it, their lot, and their plight. They do not know how to let go, do not learn from their mistakes. They are so self absorbed that they do not see beyond themselves. Pessimism becomes a way of life for them. I do agree life is not fair some of the times.

There are circumstances we cannot avoid. Taking it in a broader sense, we do not have control over war and strife. To some extent poverty too. We cannot choose our country, religion(we can change that, as cocaine pointed out, I was not thinking in that direction when I wrote it) and our parents. As a child too, we are dependent on others. Nevertheless, we can choose our direction in life. Wanting something and aspiring for it is a way of life. In a constructive way. But some have misplaced notions about wanting. More and more. Of what? Some chose the destructive way. Fully well knowing what they are doing. When it does not work out the way they had desired, they are unable to accept it.

For them, I say...ok, you knew better, you fouled up your life. I have listened enough. Why don’t you move away from it? It is never too late. I will do what I can for you. I will hold your hand if you wish it. Just do not expect me to sympathise with you. You did it with your eyes wide open. Everything fell apart. You fell down. Now, pick yourself up and get going. Do not foul it up any further. You owe it to yourself. And society at large.

Some might feel I am being harsh. I believe that by pitying, sympathising, we are not doing that person any favour.