Acceptance

 

Courtesy: Poets United

As the day draws to a close

The Ganga* loses herself in the sea

Poetry words blunt into prose

The night writes the stars for me

 

 

The hawk-eye is fixed on the mice

Worms shift to beaks from the bark

Flowing water hardens into ice

I’ve fireflies to write in the dark

 

 

I am glad that I was born

I am glad that I shall die

I am glad that my path was of thorn

I will never ask Thou why

 

 

 

*The Ganges

 

Posted for my Midweek Motif ~ Acceptance @ Poets United

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Drought & Deluge

 

Source

 

This heart

became an arid biome;

through the cracks

one could reach abyss;

but Thou

deluged this heart

with Grace

filling every pore

for me to sing

of You

forever more.

 

 

Source

Posted for Tuesday Poetics: Drought Or deluge over @ dVerse

 

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Sharing with Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

 

A Boon Companion

Source

 

As the dawn promises yet another tar melting day I choose an unaesthetic cotton sari to drape myself to sail through this never ending nightmare. My summer saris neither speak in glaring colors nor are they grandiloquent in intricate designs of embroidery or motifs to weigh me down. They are rather humble beings; soft spoken and soothing. Old friends in trying times. In the furnace of a kitchen they would wipe the weariness that trickles in sweating streams with tender caress. Ah, for their feather touch love! The grueling day could have me stifled and make a tawny grass out of me soaking all my greenness but for those six yard drapes. As I embark on the breezy night I let my anchal* fly in the wind.

 

 

 The day simmers

Street dogs half immerse in ponds

      I drape nights in daydream

 

 

 

*one end of the sari draped over the shoulder.

 

 

Posted for Haibun Monday # 17 @ dVerse

 

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Shared with Poetry Pantry #313 @ Poets United

 

Belief

Source

 

 

 

I don’t want to sound selfish

as I believe I am not,

well, that’s everyone’s faith

yet I can’t help rolling back to myself only

and not to this burning world.

It has been, is and will be

like this, always smeared with blood;

who could forget the scourging,

thorns, nails, lance

 and those five wounds

for a single Man?

 

Bloodshed is Eternal.

So is Love.

 

I am not given the responsibility

of this spinning planet

to make it whirl in my way.

Rather unlike previously

I have learnt

to bridle my tongue.

Now it discriminates

words and foods;

my feet, so used to strides

try to grasp smaller steps, now;

I try to let the Beauty and the Beast be.

 

For Bloodshed is Eternal.

So is Love.

 

I feel the change in me;

I have no want;

only when my eyes behold

the war torn Syrian children

holding a poster of Pikachu,

asking the Pokémon Go crazy world

to find them and rescue,

my heart bleeds;

words birth

I breathe silent prayers

to fill the air.

 

Bloodshed is Eternal.

So is Love.

 

Courtesy: Google Image

 

Posted for Gayle’s hosting Part Five; Revisiting Anthony Desmond @ dVerse for their 5^th year celebration

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Shared with Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

                                                                  

 

A Tweet

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I left my job

to think of her smile

and other things in words.

She blooms

like the lone evening star

lambent, far

in my inner twilight sky.

 

 

Posting for 5^th year celebration of dVerse where Bjorn hosts ~ Part 4, Catching up with Samuel Peralta

 

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And sharing it with Sanaa’s Prompt Nights ~ On Popular Demand  – The Hidden Realm @ A Dash Of Sunny

The Man

 

Source

 

 

“I am cold, even though the heat of early summer is adequate. I am cold because I cannot find my heart.” ~Sebastian Barry from his novel A Long, Long Way”

The quote is to inspire today’s poems at d’Verse

 

 

 

The man whom I came upon

has a whole forest, dense and deep

within him. He breathes freedom

of cardinals’ wings and rhythmic gait of a lion

on a chase. The golden manes flowing

in the wind, in joy of finding a prize.

I discovered him

in one of my dark, icy days

when my heart would not stir to light

and my tongue was a quartzite hand axe

absolutely pre historic.

He sat in a market place

amidst buyers and sellers;

people passed without a single glance

at him. The lonely man sat with a sun

in his lips; I thought he beckoned me;

in his eyes night twinkled

offering shelter and rest.

I sat at his feet

bathing myself in the musical epiphany

of his words that flowed from those parted lips.

I gave him my cold heart

and he slowly devoured me up.

Joining 5^th year celebration of dVerse for Walter’s hosting ~ Part 3 – Laurie Kolp & A Summer Continuance

 

Sevenling (Suffrage)

Courtesy: Poets United

 

I stand in the long queue of ladies

Curtained Electronic Voting Machines wait too

While posse of sweating police silently guards.

 

I am to choose a lesser evil

And the EVMs will collect abstract dreams

The cheeky old sun winks at the police.

 

Political anti-heroes shake on the edge of denouement

with abated breath.

Posted for Susan’s Midweek motif ~ Suffrage, the right to vote @ Poets United

 

Sevenling (Floating)

 

Source

 

 

Silent streams of ether notes fade

as the prelude pours from bird throats—

taking the cue, the sun begins the fugue till twilight coda

 

Such buoyant strain is not for all

as it bugs, bites and blunts their being—

they would rather strum darkness from their core

 

Aylans float to get stuck on the shore.

 

 

Adding my piece to the 5^th year celebration @ dVerse for Victoria’s hosting ~ Poetry and Painting Embrace: We Can’t Forget Claudia Schoenfeld 

Journey

Just when we forget what journey stands for

Our weary feet might take

Us to a new crossing.

Roads call to make a choice

Not only to rejuvenate,

Excite but also to open a portal within where

You come face to face with yourself.

Posted for dVerse ~ Poets Pub

 

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Shared with Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

 

 

Hatred

Source

 

Envy’s silent ember

burns every cell-

miasma of stale rancor emits-

from nostrils, mouth

and every pore-

then slowly spirals up-

to engulf the earth

wholly.

Death chuckles

licking up blood.

 

I sit

almost dazed-

in this world of Hollowmen

without breathing

being stifled-

without seeing

being blinded-

without praying

words being broken,

melted and vaporized.

 

 

I wonder how much hatred a man could carry to crush more than 80 people and wounding a hundred….

Posted for Sanaa’s Prompt Nights _ Hate’s a parasite that rots the Soul – [22] @ A Dash Of Sunny

 

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Shared with Poetry Pantry @ Poets United