Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Saturday, August 25, 2018

Familial-fun

From parents’ laps
to holding di’s hand,
and having fun with cousins,
I brought the entire trivia with me.
While you all were busy packing
my “trousseau”,
I was stuffing my heart
with our shenanigans .
And when it was time to say good bye,
I trusted myself totally to
the power and prayers of
the blood bonds, the “rakhi” bonds,
the friendship bonds,
and crossed the threshold.
One lifetime with you all
is so insufficient.
Distant now, ever in my heart,
I miss you all.
I literally order
the gathering clouds
and whispering winds,
to shower my hugs. Daily.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100-WORD-CHALLENGE- FUN

Monday, August 20, 2018

The color of night

What is the color of night?
Black. Obviously.
But isn’t it the red of passion?
Vibrant and exciting.
Or streak of orange,
releasing inhibitions.
exuding happiness, joy.
Perhaps uplifting yellow burst
of youthful energy.
The vulnerable pink?
Tender. Nurturing.
Wait! The loyal blue.
No! Verdant green.
For all one knows, black,
seductive and secretive.
Or may be it isn’t black at all.
Possibly the compassionate indigo.
Or the very sophisticated grey.
Perchance, warm and earthy brown.
May be it is a palette of colors.
A dash of this, a stroke of that.
But what truly is the color of night?

Sunday, August 12, 2018

Breath

Shallow, this dance of breath.
This inhalation. This exhalation.
In. Out. In. Out. Repeat.
Same pattern.
Same rise and fall of diaphragm.
Mostly gentle and soft,
fast and hard occasionally.
And then one fine day,
we stop breathing.
And we are no more.
And it’s all over. All done.
Just like that.
Without any warning.
Without any premonitory.
Tasks incomplete.
Appointments due.
Commitments gathering dust,
just like the picture on wall.
But until then,
you are alive.
And all that you get is this breath.
This inhalation. This exhalation.
Shallow! This dance of breath?
Or does every pulsation breathe life?

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 word challenge : Dance

Sunday, August 5, 2018

Roof

The roof.
Just a ceiling on four walls.
Underneath which we breathe.
We love. We laugh. We cry.
This chirpy living, this zest,
converts the brick and mortar
into a heaven called home.
And it is this
symphony of life,
complete in itself,
that pours like elixir
and rattles like raindrops
on the canopy,
underneath which we breathe.
The roof.
First thing in sight at sunrise,
the last one before we drift away in dreams.
Etched to perfection in heart.
Secure semblance to mind.
A yearning retreat for wandering feet.
This all and much more,
beneath the shelter of roof.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 word challenge : roof