Sunday, January 6, 2013

We ... Maybe someday.

We met.
The not so perfect crusts,
The alluring imperfections,
And, we are friends now.
Bonded at the mantle.
Digging for the core.
We ... Maybe someday.
Till then,
Counting blessings
Found together.

Friday, January 4, 2013

To shop or not to shop

Around New Year’s time,
And you want a resolution.
One look
At that overflowing closet;
Those sweaters and jackets;
Those heaps of clothing.
I know, I know.
I have thought it over.
No more shopping for me.

I just walked into the “Fashion Mall”.
And oh! That jacket looks so good!
Is my resolve weakening already?

Linking up with Ketchup With us #9 - In 57 words or less, tell us the New Year's resolution you want to make but know you'll break.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Some love

She sat there,
Always waiting,
And gazing
At the emptiness.
And it did not matter
If it rained or snowed;
All she ever saw was
His blood smeared hand
Waving out to her,
And all she ever heard was
Her name, faint
Midst the loud report of the pistol.
 The redhead lived
With the trail of red blood
Ever since that day.
The past pending,
In every fiber of her being,
Her only wish
To lose herself
One more time,
In his loving embrace.
She lived on, with her love
Dancing in the shadows
Of that evening autumn fire.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Life teaches to be like -

Those stunning sunrises, the perfect wake up calls.
The chirping birds, a song on their lips.
The lingering echoes of a cuckoo’s call,
That behold and then, melt the hearts.
The fragrant flowers,
Their incense wide and far.
And the little shards, those thorns that guard,
These priceless works of art.
The bees that buzz, busy in their fuss,
Not a moment to spare, to stand and stare.
The endless patience in the hearth,
To stay, to survive – to be like The Mother Earth.
The great blue expanse overhead,
Vast and immense, its arms widespread.
The golden flames that light the path,
The lamps that are lit to fight the dark.
The winding rivers, ever moving forth,
Finding way, cutting through rocks.
The twirling autumn heralding the springs,
From the rusted leaves to the green beginnings.
The little moon not to be cast aside,
Growing and dying - the bitter truth of life.
For the victory visits the hearts that brave,
All odds despite the dangers grave.