Whispering Thoughts

Beneath this skin, Smoothly wrapped around The bare bones, we are all But skeletons, fairly homogeneous. Each one born naked, Each, An assemblage of Branches, Carefully cloaked with barks, Some dark, some faded. A smooth layer, that the rind makes, Enfolding the chalky figures. Deceiving. Deluding. Definitely  Leading astray. And all along, cozened By this illusion We shower sweet caresses On charming surfaces, Never bothering To rake the cutis. But Some day Our bloom and our strength Will decay. We will all End up as Skeletons, Not in the glory of skin We wear But a set of bare bones. Courtesy : Friday Fictioneers Linking with Friday Fictioneers Linking with Velvet Verbosity : 100 Words Challenge : Smooth

There hang in my heart, My bucket lists. Yes! There In my heart and not on walls, My "To Do before I Die" lists. Of all sorts. A little ambition, some dreams, Part contentment, part insatiable appetite. Some things crossed with passing days, More to cross off. Many to chose from. Always incomplete, The bucket lists ever growing, The checklists of wonderful things that I will accomplish some day. One day. Before I die. Before this mortal dust Withers away. And I thank God with All my heart for all this healthy yearning He blessed me with. These lists, that keep me Bursting with vigor. I enjoy ticking off the Boxes from my lists, collecting souvenirs The life has to offer. I am alive. I have bucket lists. And I am grateful for that. Thank you God!

All the cats are busy preparing for the farewell of "The Tomcat". So us mice are having gala free time. Way beyond the lunch hour. Hushed whispers growing louder. Muted laughters sonorous. Very many grapevines sprouting. The clowder fretting, the nest celebrating.

Volvo or no Volvo, a 12 hour bus ride is definitely exhausting. So when I reach my destnation, the Delhi inter-state bus terminal, relief is exhilarating. And no the place does not extend an assausive, comforting embrace so characteristic to my hilly hamlet. It welcomes you with crass cacophony of a metropolitan that jolts you wide awake from your slumbers of the night before. So by the time I get off the bus, fetch my luggage and bargain with an auto-driver, finally making him succumb to my offer of 150 bucks (the metre works but only on papers), the four day visit to my hometown has already become a memory. The growing sun beats down whatever spirit is left in me as the auto crawls through Monday traffic on roads. We are crossing the red fort now. The brick red pride of India with the Tricolor fluttering unrestrained. Trust me, you cannot help but feel awed by the striking splendor standing stoically amidst the lush green lawns. Delhi can be charming too, if it tries. But such mom...

Mild incense lingers Wafting and drifting wayward Affirming my faith

Awed by the excesses That surround me. The abundant Abundance, The plentiful supplies Of love, peace, contentment, Affection and happiness, From some never-ending reserve, Ample, infinite, And more. Much more. All needs provided, And all greed humbled, With profusion And plenitude. Blest thus, Bowed in reverence, Prayers rise From the depths. Gratitude for the Countless joys And boundless riches, Those come my way Each day, every day, Sanctifying my being. Ever thankful For thy amazing graces, Precious, treasured, Valued and wanted, And the nimiety of same, And thy mercy too, I revel in the ecstasy Of being thy cherished child. Linking with Velvet Verbosity: 100 words: Reverence

Like The golden orb merging Into a fiery orange, Suffusing slowly to A passionate red. Ah! You permeated me Like The deep blue blending Into Mauve iridescence. The dark violet remains Consumed by the moonshine. Grey, then black, Then ochre. Then light.

Our "I love us" Was not okayed. The chiromancers Mumbled unintelligibly. Undettered, I proffered to draw a new line But, Cut too deep. They shifted me yesterday, To general ward. You see, It costs less And I have not been missed. Yet.

The earth shook. Then stopped. His parents Lay buried Somewhere In rubble and rain. His little hands now Ferry barrows of debris. Ten bucks a round. Enough to keep The hearth warm For him and his sister. Another night passes. Tremors stay.

The sidewalks Shaded with life, I tread with love. The angels watch over me. My soul with Lord, I keep. The sun forever In my heart, I know not the fear Of nights. Yessir! The devil Thinks twice Before crossing My path.

The cab driver’s leash skinned his glistening black hide. Head high and goaded often, he made it till the Ludgate Hill. But his exhaustion and their luggage beat him. His feet slipped and the wagon toppled. Short-winded, He rose again. Leastways, tried.

The xyris defied the grayscale background. Bright bold yellow in the sameness of weather-beaten stones just on the other side of Sanjauli. The cemetery had seen better days but now it lay in ruins. Forgotten. Disregarded. Displaced. Old. Some from the days of Britishers. Others New. Relatively new. Recent. Remnants of all kinds. Occasionally trespassed by the locals. Stealing a kiss. Holding hands. Sometimes remembered. But often the graves were left to themselves. Expect for this one. Visited. Tended. Cared for. Remembered with a bunch of xyris. Daily, without a miss. But this was not where Mrs. Alvarez was supposed to be. The xyris were supposed to be on her dinner table. Where she would be laying out the dinner for her family. Two little kids who would be fighting over study tables and playgames. And her husband who would be coming home after having put in a long day at the bank’s branch. That is where she was supposed to be. And that is where she was headed. After havi...