Unedited ramblings - Nature

 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 the Challenge: 05/03/2022

Fantasy #writephoto

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 💝💝💝

 

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

That black cat

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 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Crumbs of our love

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 🤗 🤗 🤗 

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

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

Buck up

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 🤗 🤗 🤗 

On the edge

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 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Picstories

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 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 

Come soon

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

Reflections

Linking with Crimson's Creative Challenge #25

Home

Linking with Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Rivulet

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

Sea-shells

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

Baby steps

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

Keepsake

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

You, unplugged!

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