Friday, February 26, 2016

The scrumptious ecstasy

You are a delicious habit!
Enticing and intoxicating.
Bittersweet ecstasy.
Your warm hug, so electric,
it sets my heart racing.
Taste of your lips,
those hershied kisses,
like velvety crumbs melting in my mouth,
scrumptiously trickling down my throat.
Your flavor playing on my tongue.
Yearningly, I smooth down your golden gown,
fingers gliding over your flawless skin.
My heart jumps,
as your silky smoothness reveals itself.
Your beauty beholds me.
I devour you.
Consume you with all my passion,
and rip apart every single fibre
of your being.
you are a luscious tease.
A delish delectable dessert.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: Habit

Thursday, February 25, 2016


Reminiscent heart
as I dust off spiderwebs
from our souvenirs.

Linking with Haiku Horizons: Spider

Wednesday, February 24, 2016


heraldic, expressive,
identifying, designating, distinguishing,
gradually turning to dust,

Tight pillow cuddles

Tight pillow cuddles,
in an effort to search warmth.
And, it becomes you.

Linking with RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #85 Tight&Warm

Sunday, February 14, 2016

Come, sail away with me

Stranded together, you and me,
and spread before us,
a vast expanse.
Uncharted, unbeknown,
fickle and transient,
these heavy seas of
love, life and laughter.
This rise and fall,
This flow and ebb,
this leap and restraint,
bursting with wonders,
this impermanence.
Moon tides,
visiting and leaving,
but still making it to shores,
inspiring to hold a little faith,
as we sail shorewards,
on stranger tides.
So, behold my dear,
as we steer in undulating swells
and unrelenting currents.
Come, sail away with me.
With a little luck,
and if the winds favor,
love might drift towards us.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: Luck

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Lilting taste of childhood

Lilting taste of childhood on my tongue,
delicacies doled out by your hearth,
wounded knees running down the streets,
unburdened shoulders practicing at chin-up bars,
careless giggles at petty nothings,
unfinished home works and unlearnt chapters,
splashing in puddles and running after kites,
catching fireflies and winning paperboat races,
having you pick up after me,
my knee high socks, belts, ties and toys,
strewn all over the carpeted floors,
bedside stories ringing with love,
melodic harmonies lulling me to sleep,
words of wisdom leading me to light,
your hurrying me to reach school on time,
scolding me for my errant ways,
smothering me with loving embraces.
Lilting taste of childhood in everything
and though I had my fair share,
yet it seems like
I have not had enough of it.

Monday, February 8, 2016

Such pretty dolls

I and Yashika enthusiastically embarked on doll pilgrimage. What better way to spend International Doll's Day.
Two initiates in doll-cult enjoying an amazing collection from around the world. Dolls dating back to 1700s. Dolls gifted by royalty. Dolls depicting traditions and trends. Dolls intricate and dolls, crude and rudimentary. Dolls with broken parts and dolls finished to perfection. Antiques to modern. Collector's dream. Nation's treasure. Awe inspiring.
One section hosted life-size dolls from across Eurasian regions. Almost every doll there seemed alive. Even the three seated at centre stage. Though with their disheveled looks, blackened eye sockets, grim looks and soiled rags, they looked horrifying. Like they had been taken out of some horror movie. Looking at them made us uncomfortable so we hurriedly moved to next display.
For a fleeting instance, I felt the focus of those ghostlike dolls shift. Following my movement. I disregarded the feeling.
There were prettier dolls to look at and I started concentrating on the collection again. But those black eyes never left me. I felt they were watching my steps and marking my moves.
By the time I was ready to move on to next display, the other visitors had left. The hall was soundless. No rushing feet, no clamor of kids, no excited shrieks.
Where was Yashika? Where was everybody?
I rushed through the aisles, searching for both Yashika and exit door. The mobile network ditched me. A frightened mind commits many mistakes. Instead of moving towards exit, I had somehow traced my steps back to that miscellaneous section with those scary dolls.
I moved away from them.
But ghostly scary dolls stared from every aisle, every section.
I was alone in a large lonely hall with scary dolls all around me.
Then a doll from some aisle laughed. Loud. Raucous.
More laughter followed. All dolls joined in.
Then the one seemingly from The Child's Play started moving towards me.
The others followed.
In a practiced beat.
I backed.
They marched.
I backed further.
Further and further until I stumbled.
Then I was dead and dolls were gone.
I was not dead but the dolls were gone.
Maybe I was dead but dolls were still there.
Muddled. Messed up.
Then I heard my mobile ringing.
Dead people don't have mobiles. So I was not dead. I had not fallen.
Happy Doll's Day, doll. Wanna visit the doll museum? Yashika raved.
Some nightmare!
I was totally distracted. Yet Yashika rambled on. Until she convinced me to meet her. To celebrate international doll's day. At doll museum.
Despite my misgivings, we embarked on our tour enjoying an amazing collection from around the world. Collector's dream. Nation's treasure. Awe inspiring.
One section hosted life-size dolls from across Eurasian regions. Almost every doll there seemed alive. Even the three seated at centre stage.
Such pretty dolls, I vouched before Yashika could comment anything and dragged her on to next section.
But in that fleeting instant, I swear those dolls winked.

Friday, February 5, 2016

An idea

One day you loitered through my mind,
an unhurried thought, distinct and clear,
unlike the hazy and fogged rushes,
and the train of my thoughts slowed.
I dwelled on us for some time
and then I laughed off the idea, brushed it aside,
vigorously erasing the traces
etched by it on the slate of my mind
but some markers are permanent
and try as hard as you might
you cannot rub out their writings from the board.
You now linger in my thoughts,
like an indelible ink stain on paper.
And I translate you into
syllables, words, proses and poems.

Thursday, February 4, 2016

Stars in his eyes

Beyond the rainbows,
Lie fluffy castles of clouds,
Where stars dwell, my child.

The child reverent,
Of this infinite stardom
And magic it weaves.

Stars in his small eyes,
Cosmos conspires in favor
Of the faithful child.

Linking with RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #82 Star & Child

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Mesmerizing, the ways of Lord.

Tiny hands foraged the canisters, scrounging home churned butter, the pitcher hung out of their reach.
Balancing intricately, the cowherds raised Kanha who doled out the delicacy for his kinfolk.
His shenanigans, simultaneously amusing and annoying Gokul.
Mesmerizing, the ways of Lord.