Vase that holds … cheer

This is an attempt to try imagery in poetry.

To bring to life, to paint before you, a picture of vase that rests on my study. 

Gracing the corner of my desk,

the tender shoots

of money-plant

the shade of lawn-green,

bunched together

 

In a sleek, beautiful

imitation of

Waterford crystal Glandore

 

Seemingly fragile,

this intricate and elegant

trumpet vase,

and yet strong and sober

 

To hold

the supple golden greens

liberally bursting out

in all directions,

 

Spreading cheer.

Radiant with all those reflections

of LED tubelight.

 

Oh! And that reflection

in the dressing cupboard mirror,

adding to the aesthetic appeal

of the room.

 

Oft times,

the leaves tremble too,

with the pleasing caress

of cooling fans.

Sunbeam

 The gold tinted azure skies,

spotless shade of blue, 

the kind that hurts the eyes,

or be it the cloudy dreary pale greys... 

The sun is always there, 

in all its radiant glory.

Welfare unto all

Rab rakha 

Birdbath

 Welfare unto all

Rab rakha

Thirsty Sparrowhawks

Wah Pargteyo Mard Agamda Wariyam Akela Wah Wah Gobind Singh Aape Gur Chela

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Seated amidst ruins #10blogs10days

This scribbling relates to not just a personal experience but also to an underlying element of taking things for granted, how the presence or rather absence of something adds value to routine. It also subtly hints at the value and the importance of knowledge in our life. The forest like mind of ours needs the benevolence of Ma Sarswati to stay on righteous path.Seated amidst ruins...micro-poetry attempted in free verse, is about an idol I saw in the defunct University campus.


The breezy shades of ficus,
sprawling lawn, unkempt though,
badminton court, strewn with foliage
rusty benches, waiting,
for regular visitors,
their unfinished stories hanging in the air,
stranded lecture halls,
scribblings of last tutorials,
gazing forlornly from the whiteboards,
broken furniture, haphazardly stored
in vacant niches.
Screeching silence.
But when you enter
the now defunct premises,
her presence holds you.
Mesmerizing eyes.
Benevolent smile.
Radiant with love.
Inviting with serenity.
The pathway to her seat guarded,
by flourishing wild basil and grass
amidst one or two flowering plants.
Encased in a glass chamber,
a queen on her throne,
oblivious,
to the emptiness surrounding her.
There were times,
when the campus was full of life.
But mayhaps,
this mother of wisdom,
Ma Sarswati,
was overlooked then.
Presence, devalued.
And now in this vacuity,
She is the only solace.
Only companion.




Welfare unto all
Rab rakha 

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 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Through the narrow walkways #writephoto

That narrow earthy patch,
through the heart of hills,
the sidewalk, now rendered barren,
by infinite footsteps
that have passed over it, for eons,
gradually settling into
the shape of a footpath,
suited only for those confident strides,
humbly balanced
on that treacherous stretch,
inviting focus,
awareness and alertness.
A pilgrimage, a journey,
through the winding maze,
like meditatively walking
through the folds of life,
the subconscious contemplations that follow,
so very revealing, so therapeutic.
Through such footpaths,
to the valley yonder,
in the lap of luscious greens,
where the life flows,
at its own pristine rhythm.
Through such walkways,
towards home.

Linking with Sue Vincent's Daily Echo - Thursday Prompt

#walkthroughhills #walkthroughwoods #greenhills #footpath #narrowfootpaths #embraceyourjourney #journeytohome #micropoetry #freeverse #poetry #amwriting  #poetrycommunity #poetrygram #poetrylovers #welfareuntoall #rabrakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Voice of silence

The silent spaces,
a retreat,
from the cacophony of life,
into reflections;
A quest,
towards all answers,
the silence holds
secrets of eternity.
Revelations, in the stillness.
The unresolved threads
of our journey,
getting all tied up neatly,
rather, hemmed,
into a beautiful pattern.
Tapping into the silence,
resting in stillness,
learning,
the art of being.

Linking with Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge

Welfare unto all
Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Dream #writephoto

I looked at the prompt picture and was instantly reminded of the timeless number 'Dekha ek khwaab'.

After toying with the idea and words... I came up with my translation of the spellbinding musical inspiration.

And as far as I can see,
the mesmerizing spread of
blooming lavender flowerbeds,
'twixt us.
Such an overwhelming,
stunning,
and engulfing,
array of emotions.
Such rash of events.
And all because of one dream.
One beautiful, wondrous reverie.
Life, with you in it.

Linking with #writephoto at Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

This week's prompt - dream

Father's day

Fragrant dreams in our eyes,
that bear the scent,
of your sweat and sacrifice,
and that unmistakable
gleam of pride,
in your moist eyes,
as we fly.
Fledglings of your nest,
we are because you are.

Happy Father's day

Welfare unto all
Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

They...

Before them, a kaleidoscope of memories.
Behind them, a beautiful life,
Between them, their silent connect.
Infinite conversations,
where,
words are rendered meaningless.

Linking with Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 🤗🤗🤗

Life in moments

Beyond the chaos,
someday we will start living,
and
we will celebrate.
Lavish candle light dinners
with
tables and timelines ,
both reserved.

Amidst this mayhem,
when the world is all topsy-turvy,
between the uncertainty of it all,
amongst the fleeting moments,
we will celebrate.
All of us, together,
A home cooked meal,
simple, yet sumptuous,
set out on that grandpa-table,
with extra dullops of love,
and extra-large servings.
Luxuries, only a few can afford.
Such moments of simplicity,
when
through the gossamer curtains of nonce,
that mesmerizing gander of life.

Love for those who matter,
when it matters.

Amen!

For PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Roger's

Linking with Friday Fictioneers

Welfare unto all
Rab rakha 

The eventide

The eventide.
That return to the nest,
the dull ache of pendencies,
the weariness of struggles,
the paused turmoils,
the sweat, blood and tears,
all melting,
rather dissolving in
the rustle of fallen leaves in lawn,
the ricocheting laughters indoors,
 the pestering, the tantalizing tease,
the boomerang zealous zest.
The elixir of this life,
that embalming smile on your face.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

Humbled

The reign
of the most evolved,
most sophisticated,
masterminds,
ever striving,
to prove their might,
their supremacy
crippled and maimed today,
incapacitated
by a mere microscopic,
minuscule fragment of life.
Everything and yet nothing.

I close my post with the following Sanskrit Shloka:

Shanti Paath
ॐ सर्वे भवन्तु सुखिनः
सर्वे सन्तु निरामयाः।
सर्वे भद्राणि पश्यन्तु मा कश्चिद्दुःखभाग्भवेत।
ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः॥
oṃ sarve bhavantu sukhinaḥ
sarve santu nirāmayāḥ
sarve bhadrāṇi paśyantu mā kaścidduḥ khabhāgbhaveta।
oṃ śāntiḥ śāntiḥ śāntiḥ॥
सभी सुखी होवें,
सभी रोगमुक्त रहें,
सभी मंगलमय घटनाओं के साक्षी बनें और किसी को भी दुःख का भागी न बनना पड़े।
ॐ शांति शांति शांति॥
May all sentient beings be at peace,
may no one suffer from illness,
May all see what is auspicious, may no one suffer.
Om peace, peace, peace.

Clarion Call

A lonely birdsong
in the pre-dawn ghostly hours,
the strained, drained plea
of Mother Earth,
withered and writhing,
breathing apart
“Whither are we bound? “
The question glares at us
in our insomniac stupor.
We the somnambulists,
wandering towards a mirage,
hear it, clear and distinct,
but will we heed?
And that too, when there’s time still?
Or will this be our eternal regret?
That we erased all songs
from the heart of earth
to record our emptiness.

Linking with Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt 

Shades of life

Eerily empty,
places all around, forsaken.
No scampering feet,
no jostling crowds,
no haggling customers,
no springtime frolicking.
Nothing.
The fountain sings alone,
old coins rusting at its base.
No hushed secrets,
no whispered confessions,
no more a witness
to furtive kisses.
Everywhere, all around,
a ghostly silence,
thick grey shroud,
beneath which,
the questions lurk,
the whats, whos, wheres,
their answers eluding,
confounding.
Deep inside the caves,
there is science and reason,
the protections, the preventions.
Out in the garden,
the flowers are blooming,
red and yellow and white
and the birds are chirping
and cat, basking in sunshine.

Linking with Friday Fictioneers

The picture prompt for this week is

PHOTO PROMPT © Ceayr

Travelling together

Terribly Tiny Tales is collaborating with Mahindra XUV500 and celebrating the love for the road, and for long trips filled with exploring and adventure.

They had sought about 140 characters. For this collaboration.

And here's my version:

One long drive,
an expedition beyond defaults,
winding circuits,
unwinding souls,
zillion experiences,
euphoric high,
souvenirs in heart.

Welfare unto all
Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Waste to wonder

Last month we had a family get together and we visited this place in New Delhi - The Waste to Wonder Park - a unique theme park. The park features the miniature replicas of iconic seven wonders of the world, created from industrial waste,  auto parts, cycle chains, car engines, truck springs, petrol tanks and what not. From The Taj Mahal to The Colosseum, we relished every single creation... Delhi sun, street food, family... Some memories...my throwback to the visit in 100 words

Crafted from waste,
scrap here, cast-off there,
the metallic replicas
of wondrous monuments, glisten.
Something like,
broken cups remade with gold.
History playing hide and seek
on that sunny Sunday noon.
The curious explorations,
bewildering;
revelations that follow,
mesmerizing.
Happy squeals,
zealous spirits,
awe-inspiring moments.
The structures,
coming alive
with our innocent laughter.
Oh! One perfect world tour.
From waste to wonders
and a walk
through those wonders, wonderful!
Throwback to that tickled time,
spent with tribe.
Throwback to that history class,
attended with friends.
Throwback to lively fragments
of time frame.
Handful of pictures.
Bag full of rich memories.

Linking with Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Bluntly romantic

It’s as simple as that.
I love you.
With every iota of breath
that I have.

That I heart
all your smiles
and all your flaws.
That you are
perfect
in all your imperfections.

Forgive me,
I know no poetry,
to say this
any more artistically.

Linking with 

Winter woods

Lonesome tree, withering in winters,
almost dead,
beneath that misty grey shroud,
surviving with summer in its heart
and sighing with hope in its roots.
Spring breathes life in it, anew.

Linking with Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt #140