Whispering Thoughts

The wailing walls of Sirhind, stand in sombre solitude. The howling chilling winds, the numbing weeping waters of Sarsa, bemoan and grieve. Eternally condemned and permanently blotted, these coffers rocked Thy tender kids to quietus. The supple souls, seasoned spirits, and their ominous farewell, Soil of Sirhind, (fortunate enough that such pious feet walked on it and regrettably unfortunate to have become their deathbed) , witnessed what we dare not dream. Unwavering, unflinching, unswerving and unyielding, subtle yet strong, the fledglings of falcon. embraced their pallbearers with smiles on their faces. And this is their legacy. They were bricked alive. But they never died. And never can they. Welfare unto all  Rab rakha 

The flakes of peace blanketing this earth, and love smoldering in every hearth, the feast of childhood and warm circle of folks, melody in songs, laughter and wild jokes, gifts that say we care, grace and blessings here, Lord in our hearts, and a spirit that never grows old, a coin for charity, joyous traditions replayed and retold. The glow of happiness, lamps and light. Never the winter, with such a Christmas bright.    Hitchhiking with Sunday Scriptures Blessings  

A blessed soul of the community departed. He was a saintly spirit and Lord Almighty had graced him with the gift of music. Even though he could not see, yet he was so good at his craft that he was revered. I remember the sheer excitement which ran through my folks when he visited the town. They made that extra effort not to miss the time allotted to him in the Kirtan Darbar. With every breath he thanked Lord for the blessings He had bestowed upon him and it so seemed that every timehhe sounded more blessed in his craft. Unwavering in his faith till his last breath, he became a legend for the community. I, though not a very committed member of community, do cherish the times I heard him sing Gurbani and Shabad. And I don't know why, today, I feel that void in me, a bit of hollowness like I lost a distant relation, some faraway family member. My 100 words for his Faith... ‘Tis faith that inspired, instilled the spirit, to fly, even with broken wings. And it is with faith alone,...

The prompt word is clown. And I am delving into descriptive poetic form called Cinquain. The sheer joy that the whitefaced clown spreads, an image so vividly inscripted in our minds. Who knows what he feels behind his mask, it is the laughter that he can elicit from his audience that matters. And as the wise say, it is healthy to be a clown for a little while in this circus of life. For that brave spirit, I ink my words... Jester. Comic. Clumsy. Juggling. Joking. Joshing. Silly escapades. Sublime smiles. Buffoon. Linking with Welfare unto all  Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

The chaos outside, that cacophonous milieu, with the typical incessant, inharmonious chatter. And then I hear you speak, rich, sonorous syllables, in a rich, sonorous tone. And suddenly all voices fade, noises recede to the backgrounds, becoming unnecessary and irrelevant. The echo of your words, ringing till long after in the deepest corners of my heart, like a calming rein on the wayfaring mind. This is us. You and me, winding down in each other’s company, finding our own sense of calm in being together. Our hearts, those perfect zen corners, crafted with passion and embellished with vivacious love chimes. Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 words : Calm Welfare unto all Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

For the prompt given by @baffled, I have attempted a Collom Lune. How often do we come across the scattering in the narrow stream of light. The haze, the aura so mystic. I tried to capture that trivial moment in my words. More so, the hope that the thin beam embodies. Let us all be hopeful always. Through the cracks, a narrow beam of light, suffuses the soul. Wrapped in glow, miniscule particles of pure joy, a bounteous harvest. Linking with @baffled  

The hazy afterglow of tender caress, light touch, and soft subtle whispers. The lackluster farewell of dissolving sand-castles, receding waves and wrinkled creased bedspreads. Remnants of you, everywhere. Linking with RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #PoetryPrompt #Challenge 

Days come to an end, dreams don't. There's miles to go before we sleep... Twilight, wild wings seek sheltered nook. Fledglings, back home, await their gifts. Disquieting, lurking what-ifs raise their heads. Unheeding sunset ahead, deferred dreams instigate. Hurrah! some elbow-grease, you’re almost there. Linking with Flavors of  Robert Frost and Langston Hughes in this post Welfare unto all 🤗 🤗 🤗