Whispering Thoughts

 There are these subtle simple laws of nature. So easy at first sight. And then you look deeper. Just a little below the surface.  And it's astounding elements  reveal themselves. What appears so simple has a layer of surprising elements throbbing at the core and working in perfect synchronization.  Every component that is there is a masterpiece in itself.  Not just unique.  But also a powerful display of what nature is capable of. We, mortals, mostly,  undermine this fact. Looking only superficially. And trying to win it over with our sciences. But every time we try and play God, nature hits us with something so unbelievable that we are left dwarfed in our efforts. These are times when we feel absolute surrender to this magnificence,  Complete submission to the might of nature.  Life, almost entirely, is a rare artefact... Picture prompt : https://www.digitalphotopix.com/amazing-nature/weird-nature/ Linking with Simply 6 Minutes – Welcome to...

Dreams, imaginations, fantasies,  are all but seeds of reality.  They infuse us with spirit,  to make efforts to reach the sky and stars.  This haiku has been written for such spirit.  Crude, rough sandcastles,   on foundations of our dreams,  rests our universe. Linking with Thursday Photo Prompt : fantasy #writephoto Welfare unto all Rab rakha 💝💝💝  

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

Stretched on parapet,  in sultry summer morning, inertia, envied.  Hitchhiking for  Colleen’s 2020 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 182 #PhotoPrompt Challenge prompt :  Image by   Huda Nur   from   Pixabay I saw one lazying beneath the frangipani this Friday... Inspiring the micro-poetry in 5-7-5 format.  Welfare unto all  Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

The crumbs of our love, the morsels of our affection, (raw and crisp mostly, a little stir fry here or mayhaps a sauté, generously mixed with grated mozzarella, and, seasoned with basil black pepper and oregano) served on blank whites, with lots of heart. The platter ready, a bit of us on the serving pallette, and they call the sizzler, poetry. Linking with Friday Fictioneers PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz Welfare unto all Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

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

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!...

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 🤗 🤗 🤗 

In the last fortnight, there have been incidents when the air quality of our national capital has deteriorated alarmingly. It is the wake up sign.. If not us then who, if not now then when... The mother nature is waiting for some answers... The thick shroud of smog; goodbye whisper of autumn, stuck in hazy dusk; the raging echo of our callousness; dismal glower of Nature; looming question of doom! Linking with  Welfare unto all Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Pictures, in black, white, grey and beautiful colors of the pallet, unstained with the insistence of being liked, unedited memoirs, undisputed testimonies of being joyously alive. Such pictures that tell our stories, that echo the sweet times. Digital albums, suddenly bereft of such pictorial verses. Linking with Friday Fictioneers PHOTO PROMPT COURTESY TED STRUTZ

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  

Spick and span, fragrant with the bloom of your favorite flowers, the house is ready to greet you, my love. Come soon! For the daisies will wilt, and dust will gather in the crevices of that designer wrought iron railing. And darling! I am growing old now. The dusting, the watering, the climbing of stairs have all become once in a daytime things. Amidst the places to visit and errands to run, I long to hear you ramble from the diwan bed in the lobby, munching the home-cooked culinary delights. And my arms are aching to hold you. Come soon!  Linking with Friday Fictioneers  PHOTO PROMPT COURTESY : ©Ceayr

Linking with Crimson's Creative Challenge #25

Linking with Friday Fictioneers PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

The rivulet flows above the hard rocks, meandering, snaking through the beaten tracks and trails scraping them slowly, turning stone to sand with tenacity, persistence, sheer will. Just like love flowing through the skin mingling into arteries, veins and capillaries, seeping in to the heart, and gradually penetrating, soaking the soul through and through. Impervious? There is no such thing. The swirls, the twirls, they leave their marks, folds and wrinkles. The contours on surface, the chemistry in depths, fuse together, blend, interblend, sedately, unhurriedly permeate every single pore, saturate the very being. The rivulet flows, just like love. Linking with Weekend Writing Prompt #98 : Impervious

Crimson. Deep crimson. The shade of passion. The other one toned down. Lovely red. Ah! A whole bunch of different hues. There is that delicate blush. The peace of bluish-white. The subtle saffron. Vibrant yellow too. Standing tall. Persisting. Through thorns and storm and sun and rain. Beautiful. Becoming. Radiant. Ravishing. Fragrant. Fragile. Brave. Defiant. Bold. Resolute. Alluring. Bewitching. Blooming because they are blooming. Perfect. Just the way they are. At all moments, at all times. Just like you. Oh! I planted them all so that someday, when you walk through this rose-bed, you will see yourself through my eyes. Linking with Friday fictioneers

The buoyant waves, swirling, twisting, and swiveling festively, crash at the shore. The majestic tides, those irresistible, raw, liberating bursts of energy recede. The shore sand shines, littered with beautiful seashells. Those empty carcasses with echoes of ocean resounding in their depths, reminiscent of a life lived beautifully. Such impermanence, such transience, such evanescence. All temporal affairs so short-lived. All joys come to pass. But in the wake they leave behind their indelible mark. That beautiful ink stain, bearing exquisite testimony to the cliché, not how long you live but how well you do it. What worth your life carries? Photo prompt @ Sandra Crook Linking with Friday Fictioneers

Small strides on a rough path strewn with fireflies. Small steps that lead to beautiful roads, over the time. Small short steps that brought us this far. Baby paced, each day, we walk with a hope that we will reach the destination, that alluring terminus which keeps us awake most nights. Small baby steps each single day praying all the while that we walk in the right direction, striving to carve our niche, howsoever small, in this majestic expanse. Walking slowly underneath the umbrellas of very many blessings feeling the bliss, living the moment. Tiptoeing, lest the harmony is disrupted. PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson Linking with Friday Fictioneers

Some yesterdays, we sat together on a rickety age old chair made of teak wood, treacherously balanced by our uneven weights, sharing little tidbits, browsing the galleries that held our picture-perfect kodak moments. The ever responsible you had warned me about the splinters I might get and the madcap that I am I unheeded, laughed off your caution, and sat right beside you. Caught up in simplicity of such moments, we attempted to fathom our complexities. The chair sits empty today, forsaken and gathering dust. The keepsake breathes our laughter. And I can't bring myself to chuck out the relic. Linking with Friday Fictioneers

I found you thus! Oblivious to the loud banter of stained machines, rattle of motors, squealing belts and hustling cogs. Bent over a lathe, with a staff member, perhaps runing some diagnostics. That metallic beast held your complete attention. Your skilled hands moved deftly over her, tracing her sleek cuts and exploring the nuances of her body. You skillfully maneuver the lady. Tweaking, twisting, teasing. Until she trembles and springs to life. You pat her gently, "That's my girl!" And then someone calls you over, and you busy yourself with iron-teethed gears. Mesmerized, I revel in this version of you. Linking with Friday Fictioneers