Tuesday, February 14, 2017

The shell exfoliates

I am bare but whole,
the moment you touch my soul,
shell exfoliates.

Linking with Haiku Horizons : Shell

Monday, February 13, 2017


Some yesterdays,
we sat together
on a rickety age old chair
made of teak wood,
treacherously balanced
by our uneven weights,
sharing little tidbits,
browsing the galleries that held
our picture-perfect kodak moments.
The ever responsible you
had warned me about
the splinters
I might get
and the madcap that I am
I unheeded,
laughed off your caution,
and sat right beside you.
Caught up in simplicity
of such moments,
we attempted to
fathom our complexities.
The chair sits empty today,
forsaken and gathering dust.
The keepsake
breathes our laughter.
And I can't bring myself
to chuck out the relic.

Linking with Friday Fictioneers

Friday, February 10, 2017


Tossing and turning,
I stare at roof,
the insomnia
leaving me
hazy and fuzzy,
desperately wanting sleep
to drift me away.
But the slumberous bliss
forsakes me,
playing hide and seek,
and I know that
it is going to be
one long lidless night.
Then I feel
your soft hands
rhythmically and gently
patting my forehead.
The shush-pat
or the magic of your hands,
I know not what it is
but I savor the relief that follows.
Nestled against you,
I sleep,
snug, cozy and safe.
Drifting off to dream world,
semi-coherent thought rings,
"You must be made of magic".

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: Magic

Touch of rain

Simmering, the touch of rain,
symphonies trail on my skin.
I quiver beneath.

Linking with Haiku Horizons : Rain

Monday, January 16, 2017

Ringing echoes

I can record your
reverberating, resonating laughters,
the ones that start
straight from heart
and reach your lips,
and play and replay them
over and over again.
And then,
I can imagine the rosy blush,
the surge of warm blood,
that slivers of smile
lend to your cheeks
feel a little envious
of their soft, subtle caress.
Your quick breaths and short gasps
interspersed between hearty chuckles
can warm me on icy days.
But, I am left with
this irresistible urge to reach out
and touch and kiss those
squeezed eyelids
those laughter lines.
What do I do?

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: Record