By that horizon, Where the sun rays kiss the ground, Someday, we shall meet. Linking with Haiku Horizons: Ground
Rhapsody resounds, resonating for eons, what'll be your echo?
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Once more, his quill stains A4 blanks, Scribbling and scrawling against time. And every single syllable talks only of you. The poet’s chosen muse, he reveres you. In gliding thoughts and flowing words filling the blanks. His imagination brims with sentiments of lovely time. Perhaps this will be one last time, That his quill will talk of you. With you gone, he lays it to rest amidst fluttering blanks. He holds you again in the blanks, scribbling poems and prose each time, knows not what to write but you.
I'd give you my things, My life, my love and my soul. All yours for taking. Linking with RonovanWrites
Plenteous wishes, Some day I'll belong with them, Peppered night-sky stars. Linking with Haiku Horizons
It was good to meet her. 22 days ago, we were all huddled up together under one roof. Amidst the chaos of renovation ( read cement dust and wood splinters scattered around us), we celebrated her bday. And soon thereafter we said our goodbyes. This is how our associations with each other had come to an abrupt end. When the paying guest arrangement had been suddenly made dysfunctional, we all had to look for new accommodations. And so we moved out. In groups of two. And today was our get-together. Over fried and tandoori momos, we spilled our experiences and shared our hearts. Until the glowering scowls of waiting crowd and descending night forced us on different routes once again. We ran a couple of errands and finally walked back to our new niche, planning our dinners. (Yeah, when it comes to eating, we do have more than healthy appetites. And then we wonder about all those weight loss plans). Hurried steps soon brought us to the busiest road crossing. We cautiously crossed one l...
Salt-kissed whispers fade, Taste lingering on our tongues, Scattered scribblings blur. Linking with Haiku Horizons
Flashes of color, Cover the canvas creases, With taste of rainbow. Linking with RonovanWrites
Rusting sentiments from the wall, Souvenirs from their many escapades, Vintage car in which he brought her home, Even her potted glories, All dusted and buffed for garage sale, Possessions of their love claimed by some strangers, But pieces of her heart would go nowhere else. This week's photo prompt is provided by pixabay.com (free to use photos). Linking with Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Like water meets fire, In swirling wisps of hot steam, We rise together. Linking with Haiku Horizons
A misty shroud spreads, The winter greys hide the gold, Like a crane of doubt. Linking with RonovanWrites
Households busy Prepping up for prosperity, All nooks and corners dusted and cleaned, The waste all done away with, Light, fresh and strong, they herald the winters With vigour and celebration. The scent of fresh flowers and love, The heart brimming with love and joy, The greying winter days splashed with Colors of rangoli, And the pitch dark moonless night Glittering with light of earthen lamps and oil, Prayers wafting through the ether, Rendering all things pious and pure, Feasting and treating ourselves, Without worrying about calories, The sound of firecrackers, Driving the evil away, The sparkles spattered throughout Like gems and swarovski. One night that glitters better than all golds One night that brings us all closer to Gods One night that is full of life and energy. One night that beats the darkness. One night called diwali. ॐ असतो मा सद्गमय । तमसो मा ज्योतिर्गमय । मृत्योर्मा अमृतं गमय । ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः ॥ Om Asato Maa Sad-Gamaya | Ta...
Every rhyming syllable sounds Like it belongs to your name. My mind, fuzzy with your thoughts, Constructs, rather concocts Make-belief realities As to why I hear your name Amidst the clamor of thousand voices. Heart, well, it fares a little better, Confessing to the crime Of having fallen for you. Head on.
500 kms separate us. An overnight journey by bus. Tiring, exhausting, yet refreshing to the core. The warm embrace of my folks. The pristine greens. Lush and verdant hills. Icy cold mineral water of rivulets. The songs and rhythms of Beas flowing in my veins. I grew up with the beat of mountainous life. And I am grateful that it has stayed with me. We may be miles apart today. Yet every single breath, every single heart beat, dwells in the footfalls of hills. With my people, at my place. Not here. Not in this temporary make shift arrangement in chaotic capital city. I belong to rugged terrains and winding circuitous routes. And I am on my way to my sanctuary.
Prayers at her feet, She lifts the heads of the bowed, Lurking in shadows, Watchful spirits light our paths. Winged saviours bless us all. Linking with Flash fiction for aspiring writers
So much dust Wandering this terra, Baked with fire and water. Hidden and cloaked under The robes of humanity. Soft and undefined, Impressionable like clay. Shaped and molded by The deft and expert Hands of our Maker. The sculptures put to life, Like dancing puppets Dangling by strings Operated by Puppeteer. The dolls gathering dust And withering away. To dust they return, These marionettes. All that matters In the end, All that echos around is an "if". If that Short performance on the stage Was worthy of a standing ovation? PHOTO PROMPT – © Connie Gayer …(Mrs. Russell) Linking with Friday Fictioneers
Scribbled syllables Against the walls of my mind, A haiku takes shape. Linking with RonovanWrites
I peeked in her thoughts Where my room was taking shape. Prams and cots and disney wallpapers. Sometimes she planned it blue, Sometimes a lovely shade of pink. Occasionally I would hear her sing lullabies, Rehearsing for impending sleepless nights. Hear them both find me a name, I really loved some, but there's no way I can tell. They build me a home in their hearts And I bask in the glory of their love. The riotous joy that I am, I laugh at their planning things post my arrival, Little do they know, I will mess it all. And on weekends, I find them shopping Feeders, diapers and clothes, Their faces aglow with sheer happiness. A little bundle draped in a pink sheet, I enter their lives, Expanding their horizon manifolds. My mother crying in pain and then in pleasure. My father looking at me with sheer joy. Seamlessly, we blend in one embrace, A happy little family.
The faint scent of winter in the air Competing With the remains of autumn, Fireworks and light Swirling into our nights, Traditions seeping into Our daily lives, Spirits conquering the Inertia of routine, Souls seeking sacral refuge In celebrations. The days leading upto Xmas, Rich with the scent of festivities. The nights dizzyingly beautiful, Evenings glistening with love, And tea-time conversations, Centered around homebound journeys. Yay! I can feel the Xmas peeking From around the corners.