doomed if I do, doomed if I don't

an adornment now- 
I sit on the side-table 
rueing my wick less days
I want the dark nights
with only me as a light

the blue you see
is a smudge on me
my yellow base
wants to catch fire
silently watching the wires

if you can't use me
why don't you break me
I would prefer to be buried
in earthy soil, 
water soothing my fire

"get a wick and let me get on with it"

colours lay bare my soul

I scribble on you
with pencil colours
blue is normal
orange heaves for me
red laughs at my passion
green just watches
the imminent moodiness
lines, and the ripples
create an illusion
of double rainbow
which engulf me
my fingers violate the violets
shrinking or otherwise
isn't that purple so deep
as to cause an yellowish tinge
on your pages-
you are a witness to all the hues
all the shades, that is I.

"my diary, with you I share all secrets, 
no colour tampers with my spirit"

the middle makes it

spurting juice 
I catch it in my mouth
an apple
reminds me of you-
the days we shared

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I talk into it
gibberish, incoherent
my mobile phone
gives me an earful
like the way you did

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it wobbles
like an old man
this chair
I have had for years-
a landmark

`````````````````````````````````````````````
I brush it
a tapestry forms on it
that wall
a witness to my joys
smudges speak of sorrows

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I massage it
with gentle strokes
olive oil
on your skin
smooth as mine

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From AppleHouse Poetry Workshop

... of 5 lines where the middle line acts as a pivot, i.e. it can be read in conjunction with the first two lines, or it can be read as the line that leads into the final two.

a gift for you

I see it in flea market
wrap it in an old newspaper-
a snuff box-
denoting my snuffed out feelings,
send you whimsical note-
letting you know of tarnished hope
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Why don't you try something in 160 characters? Space included!
Update: I corrected it to flea but I think flee too worked well. What do you think?

powders of stones

Layer by layer, he chiselled the surface, hardened over time. Now time had no meaning, but for his work. Destruction, construction, it was not for him to decide. On his feet lay the debris, powdered monument, was it? Nothing made sense any more, only the task, burdened with overcast ripples of thumbed ocean.

only a chipped thought
flies away to the cerulian sky
sacred invasion

His skin had that sheen, although weathered. He was the monument, and its love, which none remembered. If memories had a tapestry, he would win hands down. But memories, for him,  were traps of fire, a quagmire, with no immediate escape.

swat flying creatures
they can't take you far away
you will die anyway

I close the chapter, with a snap, find my fingers breaking the spine. Horrified I observe the pages falling apart, just like the miniscule powders of stones, flying around him. Not bothered, he hammers the ground now. When the earth shakes, he laughs out loud, a sound I had forgotten. I like the crying earth, the bursting sky, awaiting for water to engulf me.

oceans are so hungry-
always swallow those stones
whole city underneath

Haibun: seedy deeds

A breathe I felt on my neck. A storm within my ear. It roared and slipped into nothing. I chased it to the moon. An invisible shadow. An antithesis of wasteland. I couldn't see it. But feel it, I did. What of it? The purple sky merged into orange and buttons of diamonds danced with glee.

Where had I come? And from where? From the inside of a book, I flew into it, that creature, which can't be scene. A friend, a foe? Flashes of light bursts all over the place. An acrid smell tastes so salty. My tongue burns it out. I turn towards that shadow, just barely visible. A giant bee stings me. I cry out. Chanting curses, I kill it with my voice. And find a golden winged fairy dead at my feet. Weighty issues to tackle now, I burn at the stakes.

seed pearls fall over
ground paves it into you
sky watches with detach

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don't know if I succeeded in writing a Haibun. But I am glad I tried, thanks to Big Tent Poetry.

remnants

in the remnants
I seek the aroma-
no, not yours.

into the skewed sky
it has wafted-
clouds are the witness.

I must get to it,
catch it, bottle it-
and throw it into a cavern

floorboards watch me,
each creak loud,
while I collect vacuum. 

baton of time

I wear my newly stitched wings,
pluck time from the sky
I nudge it towards you
you make a face as if it stinks

my shoulders itch so much
I change my gait
one of my wings slips off

the time I gave you
is melting so fast
my strength recedes along with it

when you see that
you solidify it again
ripen it and pass it back to me

my wings flutter
I fly away to my destiny
the sun might burn me
but it will also give me light

ode to un-punctuated verses

commas, apostrophes or full stops
I might like those in prose
but in your poetry or even mine
I seldom seek those

why grudge it then
if it gives me limitless choices
language always grows
despite dissenting voices

why let your heckles rise
and end up in a rant
there is always an option
why let ants in your pants?

if silence can be heard, 
why not un-punctuated verse
ever heard of poetic license
which certainly is no curse!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why don't you write something for exceptions to the rule from We Write Poems?

my monkey reads you well

your hands in your pocket

that lopsided smile

your balled handkerchief in right pocket

coat all wrinkled

and jeans so dirty

my monkey reads you well

your feet so dirty

sweat stains on your shirt

your suitcase open

in the centre of the room

a banana on top of it

my monkey reads you well

on that bed

under the covers

sloppily you fall asleep

I scatter the pillows

my deed done so well

my monkey reads me well

it pushes me into the bathroom

under flowing water I wash it

it hands me a towel,

I wipe it clean

taking in back where it belongs

my monkey reads me well

no one would have believed

it was I who knifed him

if we had left the room

and gone on our way

but for my monkey who wanted to stay

"and why not, it was his monkey too"