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 

Eventide

It should so happen
that one eventide
you come
and sit by my side.
And we spend the day-end
reveling in togetherness.
In the simple intimacy
of just being there.
Gradually, at the sunset,
the blue and the red interweave,
and the purple of the twilight grows thick.
Smudging into night.
And it should so happen that
this nightfall blends into nightfall.
This dusk into dusk.
That eventide,
when you come and sit by my side,
there should be no dawn.
How I wish!

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

The color of night

What is the color of night?
Black. Obviously.
But isn’t it the red of passion?
Vibrant and exciting.
Or streak of orange,
releasing inhibitions.
exuding happiness, joy.
Perhaps uplifting yellow burst
of youthful energy.
The vulnerable pink?
Tender. Nurturing.
Wait! The loyal blue.
No! Verdant green.
For all one knows, black,
seductive and secretive.
Or may be it isn’t black at all.
Possibly the compassionate indigo.
Or the very sophisticated grey.
Perchance, warm and earthy brown.
May be it is a palette of colors.
A dash of this, a stroke of that.
But what truly is the color of night?

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 word challenge : Colors

September night

In the quiet stillness
of September night,
I sit by my chosen spot,
soothed by the moist gentle breeze.
A tired neighbour makes his way,
slow and cautious,
as the street light has failed
for the umpteenth time.
A man pedals a bicycle,
secures it in the verandah
and locks the wicket gate,
turns around one last time
before switching off
the light in porch and
retreating to the safe insides.
The sentry on vigil,
visits periodically,
the staccato of his walking stick,
loud against the hushed darkness.
In such quiet and still
September night,
our laughter rings in air.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 words: Quiet

The rickshaw-wallah

The scorching sun was bidding goodbye. Laden with files, a handbag and a lunch bag, and swallowing the pain of shoebite, I made it through the subway. And then I lavishly boarded a rickshaw. The rickshaw-puller, a summer-tanned boy of 18-20 years, eagerly accepted the tour for a measely 20 bucks. His dirty sweat sodden vest and sinewy arms talked of day well-labored. He often wiped the burden of responsibilities with his red cotton stole. When I reached, I thanked him but he pretended not to hear. Silently, he turned his cab towards main road in anticipation of new customers.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: Pretend

Sunset

Bathed in mystery,

A beautiful silhouette,

Curtains close on day.

Beyond sunset

Tiny sailboat drifts,
Fading into horizon,
Wandering into unknowns.

When the sun has set,
All our labors turn to dust
Like waves return to oceans.



Linking with Friday Fictioneers

Blaze of colors

A blaze of colors smeared across my heart.
The strokes of an unskilled hand,
uneven and splotchy.
The hues, all vibrant, vivacious.
The oranges mixing with reds
and purples and pinks,
with tiny little sequins littered here and there.
Wide eyed, I watch as this masterpiece
is splashed across the sunset skies
exclusively for me, every single night.
And then everything in the pallette blends,
swirling across the canvas.
The enchanting moments
fusing and merging
until I can't separate one from another.
Misty eyed, I watch
as the muted brilliance
slowly turns to a
subtle pink and mild, soft gold.



Linking with Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers