Friday, 25 July 2014

Puzzle continues

Courtesy Google

An owl on the branch
 keep calm and a morose face;
down in the valley many plays,
 where blood flows turbulent
mountains grow high, on skeletons;
deaf, blind, and mute
intelligent apes with big calculations
cutting the branches they sit on
fighting for what seems life;
but life is a scapegoat
with no aim and no reason
where flowers bloom and die
and birds still fly free and nest on cement trees too
where greenery still holds on, a vain hope.
Intelligent apes with big calculations,
calculations, calculations, high on calculations
that they strangle infants and kids
to gain on life,
Life? Life?
An owl on the branch
 keep calm and a morose face




Wednesday, 23 July 2014

Puzzle

A puzzle that takes you to infinite thoughts
Leaving you lost in unknown aisles of Milky Way
If it is abundant you will be thrown to boredom
If it is scarce you will end up in breath-taking hurry-burry

A puzzle wrapped in His prudence




Sunday, 13 July 2014

Forlorn

Magpie Tales


Delusion, forgotten verses—
Yesterday seems like a distant forlorn verse
Haunting from empty corners;
But then water pools in grooves
Made by treaded paths,
Mind hovers around past impressions

From a hall of fame descends steps
Or are they ascending again, whence
They started once
With alluring verses;
When empty corner haunts
Ragged, withered, carpet lies
Mute, bearing past impressions

Two needles running fast
Every heart beating to orchestrate


Ragged carpets lie silent



Saturday, 12 July 2014

Treasure Hunt

Courtesy Google


day and night, slowly loosened the ties
a transitory tie, the bliss of planetary crusade
a magical crusade, unknown like the depth of soul
twilight weaving purple and silver into a web
like the curtain at the end of theatre;
she left leaving her dragons behind
they are hovering while all castles light up
and hidden monsters are loosened,
searching a well-hidden treasure up
somewhere in a precious castle afar--
no one ever claimed, with dragons and monsters
wandering and every aisle nesting dangers hidden--
treasure inside a chest crafted by many floods
and droughts, many suns and moons
guarded by unicorns and mammoths;
travelers passed through safe glass passages
there snaps boasting trips around fantastic world
and the treasure still inside the chest, hidden and safe.

twilight parted leaving the night alone with

her dragons hovering around.

Thursday, 12 June 2014

uproot---fly high...




                When rains come down to flood the town 
And earnest citizens really ought’er 
try to make and keep things sort’er 
dry… 
 I make water


                                                                    (Maya Deren, April 29, 1917 – October 13, 1961)



Saline, roots tangled beneath;
wings weaved out of clouds
fail to catch up with free swans,
and as they glide past, clouds,
they rain down back to saline,
roots tangled beneath.

When all search firm roots,
I dig, dig out roots
to weave wings with tangled roots,
to uproot;

the swans, they fly high in blue sky.



Visit imaginary garden with real toads for more.

Friday, 6 June 2014

cup of love with void words

moon wandered in sky with dark patches—
untold words and dried out tears

from a far of land do you see my dear
the dark patches, the voidness;
above the barren land, moon shone
like a cup of love untouched—

words won’t bring you my heart
for that ocean only eyes could hold,
when moonlight brings a sheen,
dear, you hold it close, for it’s so far
yet so near when love flows
from heart to heart…

moon wandered in sky with dark patches—

stained with lonely heart’s void words.

Thursday, 5 June 2014

life's yarn tangled

when sun smiled at the kitchen window
the broth was cooking on a fire slow,
was the broth sprinkled with love?
she hesitated many times before the blow
was it always sprinkled with love,
was the lentils, chicken and seasonings grown
in fertile lands, was it nurtured by good hands,
did it reach here through a virtuous society,
for she had always heard,
you are what you eat;
she hesitated before the blow
is a girl, a woman, just flesh and bone
is she just a package of use and throw;
alas, it was better to be an animal
….
the secret of yin and yang is just a crazy riddle
for he enjoys mayhem
not her innocent smiles and care;
was that mutilated body just a piece of flesh,
no soul, no thoughts, no dreams,
just a piece of flesh?
she hesitated before the blow,
her own blood, the life that she gave
has mutilated another woman like her;
when the sun smiled at the kitchen window
her own blood pooled, dark…
she couldn't find her child anywhere,
but just another man lying dead;
the broth was boiling like her blood,
she shut all doors and windows,
her little daughter sleeping in bed,
she shut all doors and windows,
as they are no longer human
but flesh and bone to be eaten;
she shut all doors and windows.



Every other day a new rape case pops up for the media to celebrate. A mirror of women's status in the society.

Monday, 2 June 2014

The Tree of Love

Those were days of metamorphosis, our days of butterflies, under the roof of a saintly school. The big tree near the gate, how we tried to embrace it to measure how big it was, its small leaves and feather-like flowers; under it we crafted many stories and talked without purpose, laughed for the fun of it, nurtured friendship for all coming seasons. To bring a piece of my school home, fetched many seeds and nurtured at home. One of the seed carried all thoughts and a decade later it was a huge tree nesting the dreams and many birds, with whom all thoughts flew free. Rainy days spilled magic with the lush tree bearing drops of life in every leaf. Evenings had the serene look of a tree sleeping with droopy leaves as if they were meditating for a new dawn. Spirit of freedom and life was so huge that the wall beside cracked, and so they cut down a decade of many lives and dreams. Birds flew away.

love kindles
no shadow and no shape

the sun bright



Written for dVerse haibun prompt...couldn't post on time.
I hope this will go with the "seeding" prompt....words too have that spirit. Thanks.

Wednesday, 28 May 2014

Epochal

It quite happened so
in search of messiah, soul-
soother, went far and near.

A persona perfect, no
almost perfect, for perfection is a myth.
Doors I didn’t knock, they buttered bread with
gossip, muttered songs of sadism
kept love graded on plates
of low, medium, and high of gains.
A soul with the warmth of love
without shadows, with guts to stand high
seemed like a luminous star of myths.
Vitiligo, perfect allegory for bleached out souls,
pernicious souls.


It quite happened so
in this search, not blood but thoughts
tie souls, quite epochal,
happiness dwells inside
like a clear glass, thoughts open windows
of fraternity.

Acceptance plays the song of warmth
and it quite happened so
 that happiness came naturally.