Safety Pin

 

I see plenty of saviors

who are always the clasps

to form the loops

to fasten

sharp-pin-poison words

whenever applied to any heart

to protect—

just as Walter Hunt* did

with a safety pin

for the first time…

 

 

 

*American mechanic Walter Hunt is regarded as the inventor of the safety pins.

 

 Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Invention @ Poets United

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Self-Talk

 

Can you see anything, it says-

no, nothing, only darkness-

open your eyes-

it’s open-

What do you see?

A thick mist, like white darkness-

what’s there in front of you?

A blank space of nothingness-

look closer, what’s it?

Seems like a thin mist-

now?

A shadowy sun-

time is vision, isn’t it?

May be, may be not, but who are you?

I am you-

 

Posted for my prompt Vision @ Poets United Midweek Motif

Color

 

I watch the mother crow

feed its babies (one even might be a cuckoo kid, who knows),

jostling in a nest (if you could call that a nest-

with all those whatever prodding out,

hmmm….totally unlovely home décor-

I once discovered a spoon in a broken crow-nest,

thief-y bird!!)

she is very much plain, you know

to the extent of unsightly-

sporting grey, white and black

feathers-

What’s there to watch?

Yet

isn’t it godly to see love pouring out

in the shape of a worm or whatever

(purely putrid to us)

tenderly put

into a trembling pink tunnel

that spirals down

where lives perpetual hunger-

from a mother

whatever color she has

whatever shape

whatever class?

 

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif  Colour / Color @ Poets United

Scream

 

In the mirror

I often meet this woman

bearing a secret scream-

appalling-

to do that-

yet she’s bearing-

her sweetness is a heavy sigh-

her words….masks-

she stands there in the mirror-

indifferent to the world-

her every cell’s lit up, burning-

scream gyrating-

throat, lips tightly closed

and she’s bearing-

 

Posted for my prompt Scream @ Poets United Midweek Motif

Money

 

It’s a little room of your own

that shelters you or gives you company

in time of stress-

It’s a close friend

who is yet to traverse

on the path of waywardness-

it’s this much; no more no less-

you’ll be lost in a palace-

rooms after rooms

will consume you like fire-

camaraderie of a wild kind

will land you

in the shore of the soulless-

even as meager an amount

of thirty pieces of silver

sent someone to the abyss once…..

 

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Money @ Poets United

Voices

My inner voice is a male Asian Koel,

always unseen, always hidden

in heaps of leafy, nonsense thoughts—

 

I don’t often get to hear its mellifluous note,

as those gibberish leaves rustle and nod

making me caw, rattle and click—

 

I cannot be happy with the subsong I make,

with words of hoarse alphabets and voice

while all the while there’s a Koel within me—

 

I have seen those moonlit moments too,

when within a span of darkness and light

all leaves are still, all alphabets sleep—

 

peeps the blackish Koel holding in its beak

a rapturous joy I often dream to speak.

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Voice @ Poets United