it is the same pearl
I lost in your mouth
you rolled it in your tongue
made it disappear
I did not see it until today
you keep it safe,
I only want your tongue
Poetry for me is a way of living, it comes out of nowhere and I have to write it down. How I write, what I write, I decide. I am not asking you to be judgemental. I am gifted with the ability to see beyond the obvious.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
singular thoughts
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| Photo Credit: Flickr |
I had worn that for this photo shoot
he only took one,
I had taken hours to get ready
I borrowed your coat
shirt from my son,
sweater from a street dweller
what was he thinking
about my perfectly placed hat?
my gnarled hands show my character
that stick now my sustenance
in that war I fought for freedom
when landmine took away my limb
"I had wished for all to see my shoe,
my only shoe, on that foot I still carry
in the evening of my life"
Labels:
big tent poetry,
free verse,
One Single Impression
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
scooch before you throw a janky conniption fit
I had a conniption fit
what words, what words these?
slangs are not my forte
I felt so janky
suppose it is better than being cranky
I will persist
why should I resist
that challenge thrown to poets
zany words suit me fine
just as the normal ones do
"ok, you scooch, ok, you scooch"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
conniption; noun: a bad tantrum. One has a conniption or conniption fit.
janky; adjective: broken or functioning poorly or improperly; messed up.
scooch; verb: to move over, or to scoot.
what words, what words these?
slangs are not my forte
I felt so janky
suppose it is better than being cranky
I will persist
why should I resist
that challenge thrown to poets
zany words suit me fine
just as the normal ones do
"ok, you scooch, ok, you scooch"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
conniption; noun: a bad tantrum. One has a conniption or conniption fit.
janky; adjective: broken or functioning poorly or improperly; messed up.
scooch; verb: to move over, or to scoot.
Labels:
3WW,
55er,
free verse,
silly verse
zeroing into the arrow

who erased that arrow-
the one which lead me to dawn
now I am perpetually hanging in the night
where I dream of light,
the path laid with trees
flames in their branches
fire my passionate heart
night is not just symbolic of darkness
it is the bridge between luminosity and ignorance
choice lies on me, to which I wake up
"I will pass that coffee, and let the rays of sun permeate me"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I might have wanted a break from poetry, but poetry had other ideas. It insisted to get out of my mind. So here I am. I have not edited or polished it. Maybe someday I will get around doing that. Or maybe not.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BTW, Monday Poetry Train has not stopped. It is still running in full steam, well, I use electricity now. Go post your poetry URLs in the there!
Labels:
free verse,
magpie tales,
one shot wednesday,
we write poems
Sunday, January 23, 2011
celestial playground
walking on the quagmire
I hold on to the sky.
I am afraid to fall down
but moon lets me hold its hand
and stars play with me
"eternity is much too soon for me"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Update on 24th Jan, 2011: I wasn't aware that what I wrote here is in a way, is some sort of sign for me. I seem to be in an emotionally/mentally exhausted state. So closing my poetry for now. Dunno when I will get back. It might be after one day, three days, few weeks, a month or months. But I will be back. Renewal is the key. As always. Please bear with me if I am unable to visit you.
I hold on to the sky.
I am afraid to fall down
but moon lets me hold its hand
and stars play with me
"eternity is much too soon for me"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Update on 24th Jan, 2011: I wasn't aware that what I wrote here is in a way, is some sort of sign for me. I seem to be in an emotionally/mentally exhausted state. So closing my poetry for now. Dunno when I will get back. It might be after one day, three days, few weeks, a month or months. But I will be back. Renewal is the key. As always. Please bear with me if I am unable to visit you.
Friday, January 21, 2011
nutty nuts
almonds
pistachios and cashews
I look at you with longing
macadamia I thought was a country
until I tasted it
my heckles rise with hazelnuts
walnuts are my brain food
pecans I tasted only once
peanuts are ubiquitous
pine nuts I have by the handful
apricots are appropriate sweetners
"dreamy, creamy, yummy drive me nuts"
Labels:
55er,
big tent poetry,
food,
free verse
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I lost that map

I lost that map
I had put red dots on the places
my books are scattered
my papers so smudgy
and I lost that map
In my quest for it
I find this photograph
in between some old books
not related to anyone I know
so surreal that I find it now
just when I lost that map
at some strange sound
I look out of my window
watch the snow descent
I look at that photograph again
now I try to decipher the symbolism
all the while trying to kill my imagination
"one map I lost, and I found an old world,
one I don't recognize, but I will keep"
Labels:
3WW,
free verse,
magpie tales,
we write poems
Sunday, January 16, 2011
cadence
when I wandered into your street
I searched for that yellow patch
it was the sun on hay
i had tried to pick up that golden powder
you had laughed at my naiveness
you too did not understand the carnival.
the celebration of little things
the way one needs courage to embrace that
"silver light of the morning turns to gold,
and then at night we are sprinkled with diamonds"
I searched for that yellow patch
it was the sun on hay
i had tried to pick up that golden powder
you had laughed at my naiveness
you too did not understand the carnival.
the celebration of little things
the way one needs courage to embrace that
"silver light of the morning turns to gold,
and then at night we are sprinkled with diamonds"
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Thigh story (25 words, 160 characters)
His single kidney split into two.
Hissing.
Flowed on his thighs.
Yellowed.
Dried, his thighs look like the lottery ticket.
Don't eat your pretzels from it.
Hissing.
Flowed on his thighs.
Yellowed.
Dried, his thighs look like the lottery ticket.
Don't eat your pretzels from it.
Labels:
25 words,
Saturday Centus,
Sunday 160
Friday, January 14, 2011
a raw rant
a recurring rant
rendered raw,
railing in there
my rank is rather low
rut created by you set in deep
why can't you remember
I am not my brothers
I am the daughter
you never understood
somewhere down the line,
you stopped me from rotating
"yet you rallied for me
when I wrecked my heart"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sorry for this rant, but I needed to get it out. The "R"s helped and so did the limit of 55 words! More than enough, I would think!
Update: When I posted it, I was rather very angry. Not any more. So I interchanged couple of sentences. And it is no longer a rant. I could have taken it off. But am letting it stay. As a reminder to myself to control my anger.
rendered raw,
railing in there
my rank is rather low
rut created by you set in deep
why can't you remember
I am not my brothers
I am the daughter
you never understood
somewhere down the line,
you stopped me from rotating
"yet you rallied for me
when I wrecked my heart"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sorry for this rant, but I needed to get it out. The "R"s helped and so did the limit of 55 words! More than enough, I would think!
Update: When I posted it, I was rather very angry. Not any more. So I interchanged couple of sentences. And it is no longer a rant. I could have taken it off. But am letting it stay. As a reminder to myself to control my anger.
Labels:
55er,
alliteration,
big tent poetry
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