An ode to hope

Beyond the dawns and dusks,  

in the warm glow of glass, 

incandescently lit tungsten, 

an ode to hope. 

Linking with : Moonwashed Weekly Prompt

Welfare Unto All

Rab Rakha

 

 

Another day, another chance

Another day, another chance.

At life and at living.

Yet another prospect

to prefect this art.

To draw the right strokes.

To smudge and shade the gradients.

Oh! And what a blessing it is!

To see the night retiring,

leaving the door, ajar,

allowing the light to rush in,

the blushing dawn

spreading its tippet,

and the prismatic scattering

that follows,

consuming the night.

Slowly. Definitely.

Yes!

Another day. Another chance.

Second. Third… Millionth. Zillionth chance.

To breathe.

To believe.

To be busily astir.

And to beget.

Your very own concrete rose.

Mayhaps a little flawed,

but undoubtedly immensely blessed.

Bliss

Sweet bliss, 

beneath the surface of night, 

and then, 

hushed, hasty unveiling

of the rosy dawn.

Ah! The reminisces.

Linking with Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge

Welfare unto all

Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Dawning

The sky pulls a curtain
on the star-studded night
and suddenly, the day peaks,
from the gossamer corners,
flashing a naïve, innocent smile,
so pristine, so pure, so refreshing,
and the sky lights up.
Slowly at first,
blushing a tad bit,
(that unmistakable
and unmissable
subtle red-violet streak
on the cheeks)
and then the daylight twirls,
and whirls, in full swing,
until the blue trail
of flowing chiffon gown
is splashed everywhere.
Ah! The daybreak.
Raw. Radiant. Resplendent.
The showstopper,
mesmerizing the audience.
The temptation, the tease, serenading.
The trance, the reverie, spellbinding.
The exquisite dawning, inspiring.
Just like you!

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook - 100 words

Welfare unto all
Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Beacon

I detest the dark,
do not favor the umbra,
that somber mystique.
The rays of light beckon me,
I breathe the morning splendor.

Linking with RonovanWrites #Weekly#Haiku #poetry prompt #Challenge #258

The calm of rushed mornings

The tea simmering in kettle,
the lentils bubbling,
the clothes churning in washtub,
the deft hands ironing
the wrinkles of rumpled clothes,
the brooming, the mopping, the dusting,
the suppleness of fresh waters,
the crunch of crisp morning air,
the scattered mild sunlight,
filtering through woods.
The calm inside.
The stirring of gravy,
the fluffing of bread,
the frothy blend of minty buttermilk,
the running for school and office,
the rinsing of utensils,
the hanging of clothes on the line.
Simultaneous. Synchronous. Sudden.
The chaos outside.
The discipline. The mastering of sprint.
The pace settling to a soft rhythm.
Harmonious.

Written for Friday Fictioneers 

A dash of hope

Earnest hopes, served raw,
from the dawn’s sacred threshold,
with dash of sunlight.

Linking with RonovanWrites #Weekly#Haiku #Poetry Prompt#Challenge #256 

Equinox

The sweet caress
of summery breeze,
the mild susurrations,
the stirring of dried,
dead papery foliage,
and the buds of life
deriving strength to bloom
from this decay.
The day beginning to stretch,
till it grows weary
and seeps into twilight
and the night hastily shrinking,
excitedly merging
into the reddish hues of dawn.
This desire of the day
and the yearning of night
blending magically in equal portions.
Their thirst quenched,
satiated in
vernal, verdant, vibrant
spring equinox.
And the blossoming love.

Linking with Weekend Writing Prompt #97: equinox 

The day bygone

I looked all around.

Shook the bedcovers.

Toppled the pillows.

Went down on my knees

and searched underneath the bed.

Switched on the flashlight

and checked all the toe-spaces.

Even the cabinets and wardrobes,

turned them topsy-turvy.

Emptied the drawers.

Ah! And stacked them again.

Explored all nooks,

every spot that I could think of.

Went around the house,

rummaging, seeking, failing, retrying.

You see, I had lost the day-bygone.

And I sought it now.

But all this search

and I still could not find my yesterday.

And at the eventide,

I realised,

I had lost my today as well.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 words : Spot

Perspective

Eventide.
The waves crashing at shores.
The roar of hungry ocean,
consuming the remains of the day greedily.
The ferries anchored,
owners back to their nests.
Just like the sea-gulls
huddling in colonies.
The air-balloon descending,
hysteria lowering each minute.
You pull me close and hug me tight.
Melancholically.
Cockcrow.
The ocean exhales energy.
Cold waves wash everything afresh,
dissolving the litter of yesterday.
Sea-gulls squawk in distance
readying for the flight.
Ferries rock gently,
setting momentum for the day.
A hot air-balloon rises,
hysteria growing each minute.
You hug me tight
as you leave for work.
A buoyant hug.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 word challenge : wash

Linking with Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers - 183rd

4:33A.M.

Your hands run
in the mess of my hair,
your touch tender
and full of care.
I stir a little,
perhaps even mumble,
incoherently in sleep.
You pull me in
the circle of your arms,
my back fits perfectly
in the hollow of your torso
and your warm legs
entangle in my not-so-warm.
Its a biting January morning,
cold, frosty and foggy.
But nestled in you,
I am all cozy and warm.
And then drifting
in and out of consciousness,
I realize I am dreaming.
I hold on to the vision,
and prolong my sleep.
until the quilt becomes cold.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 words: Cold

A waking dream

Just before the sky breaks,
in to the riotous shades of blue,
clear and unclouded,
I breathe myself against your chest,
and I can feel that subtle rise and fall of your diaphragm,
too soft to hear, too close to experience.
In those godly hours,
I breathe you like oxygen,
vital and indispensable.
I memorize you like sermons,
every single contour.
And I drink you like ocean,
quenched, yet unsatiated.
And then with daylight,
when I think of you,
I hear you or I feel your presence,
I scribble you frantically, my love.
But I don't dream of you,
for you are a constant companion,
a thought that never goes away.
And I hope you don't trust me when I say,
I don't dream at night,
for my endless dreaming begins with dawning,
when I imagine you stirring lazily on disarrrayed bedclothes.
No, I don't dream of you at all.

Divinity

The morning star heralds
a new day, a new beginning.
The night surrenders
to dim symphony of dawn.
The orange cracks paint
the serenity at its best.
The bright yet subtle, fiery mix of colors,
splash across the canvas gradually,
making a beautiful sunrise.
The birdsongs fill the air,
the mesmerizing tune of morning.
I wake up to a gentle kiss of early sun.
The divine rays,
of radiating golden globe,
lavish an intrinsic warmth,
seeping through the crevices,
unseen heretofore.
The happiness filters through me,
sneaking up silently,
and I yield to the transients.
I know this is love.

The conquest

The eventide dissolves
in the receding moonlight.
The dawn seeps into the world,
twirling delicately into the arms of night,
the touch sends deep resounding ripples.
Quickened pulse, the staccato
and silence.
The moment blends into infinity,
and while they hold their gaze,
their hearts falter.
The illicit thrill, feverish and hesitant,
consumes the night
and the dawn burns bright
in perfect rapture.
A thousand dreams
glitter in diffused light.
Soon, it will be twilight,
and the yearnings will blend
in timeless symphony,
unrestrained and passionate.
Such is the hypnosis of seduction,
the day will dwindle in rustic hues,
as the night comes gliding,
through sultry evening roads.

Creases of your embrace

The night falls
And then
In the creases
Of your embrace
The dawn breaks,
Alone.
The sun rises
And
I yearn
To escape again
Into
The starlit skies,
Sequestered
In your embrace,
You
Holding me till dawn.

Promise

Stars twinkle against dark skies,
Tethering on a subtle promise,
Tomorrow arrives.

E is for ... Evenings

The evening descends,
Gracefully,
The beauteous dusk sweeping the day
In shadows,
The eventide
Heralding a stillness to the rush.
The birds, ravens and crows and sparrows,
All flocking back to the safety of their nests,
The trees sighing,
Their breaths labored, short bursts of oxygen,
Being replaced earnestly with that counterpart carbon dioxide.
The crickets chirping at night,
The lovelorn staccato of katydids,
Causing a racket in heart.
The silver globe rising
From behind the canopy of deodars
Coming down for a little while
To celebrate this life with us
And slowly,
Like every slightest step measured,
All activities ceasing beneath the
Spread of stars and skies.
Slowly the dusk
Blending to night
Fusing into dawn,
Renewed, revived
And resuscitated.
Thy hand has led us
Through another day.
Thy light guarding us through
This dark night
And Thy goodness
Shall shower yet another dawn.
Our trespasses and violations
Forgiven,
We are watched and kept
By Thee
In Your tender care.
What more could we ask for,
But to spend this hour of rest
Mindful of your blessings.