Almond Blossoms


I am tearing up

this dark canvas

of a world

where I’ve been thrown

to become a still life-

I pray for

a turquoise sky

for my sanctuary

for new life, rebirth,

for my almond blossom




Posted for my prompt ~ Almond Blossoms by Vincent Van Gogh: An Ekphrastic Poem @ Poets United Midweek Motif


Prose Vs. Poetry


[I have been in space and time where and when my dazed thoughts were made of vacuum. Words dared not enter there. There was existence, consciousness and vacuum. No prose, no poetry. May be prose was first to make appearance and much later in a stable form was poetry.]




Do I mourn

in prose

or in poem?

it’s salty wordlessness-

while each cell is

the cathedral spire of Notre Dame;

my house of prayer within

is in flame-

do I go to

prose or to poem?

it’s salty wordlessness-

neither a long howl

nor a sigh-

it’s always wordlessness-




Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Writing Prose @ Poets United

The Eyes


I didn’t know my eyes had tongue. My aching body desperately wanted to take a little siesta. Curtains were drawn, windows closed save one for this body of mine needs a bit of a sky, a bit of greenery and a bit of bird voice before it retires into numbness of slumber.


My eyes stuck out its tongue to the morose hanging curtains and ventured out into the blue sky. Alas! Hungry clouds had devoured the last trace of its blueness; how solemnly grey they looked! Poor heartbroken eyes! Like cut off kites they were gliding downwards and got stuck in one of the branches of the huge mango tree……to be pleasantly surprised. Wow! Weren’t they mere blossoms only a few weeks ago? Now just look at them! Like little green fairies they came out of the flowers and enjoying a swing in the wet breeze. They were all survivors of the first April storms. Confident little mangoes!


Eyes decided to have a closer look at the pond. So they came down. In no time they spotted a white stork meditating on one leg. Clever fishes were nowhere to be seen. Three water fowls were moving to and fro  heaven knows for what. Cuckoos and sunbirds and barbets and whatnots were pouring music into the air. The highly talented eyes were quick to sprout ears to hold all the notes being played. That was a great feat. All on a sudden a small black cormorant popped out on the surface of the green pond. It must have been having a good meal inside the water world.


Eyes were excited.


Not so the body.


The tussle began.



Weary feet managed to get near the window and the hands pulled the curtains down. Lips did a smiley. Ears closed all doors. From the veranda wafted rose fragrance. Now my eyes grew a nose.


Posted for Telling Tells With Magaly Guerrero: a Pantry of Prose, #2 ~ Magical Realism @ Poets United. It has 313 words including the title. Hope it fulfills what Magaly hopes for.