Quest for a change
Got them chancing upon each other
They found poetry lying latent
Awaiting an acknowledgement:
For they believed poetry needed an audience;
Words of encouragement
Laced with the right measure of crticism,
They look forward to their poetic spell!
The world was full of poetry to them;
Sorrow and mirth in equal portions
Only extracted more poetry from them
The 'quest' for another brought
Until then they had remained total strangers
Togetherness, now, leading to POETRY!
Friday, March 28, 2014
Quest for a change
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Friday, March 21, 2014
It is pleasing to know that you have stopped by and left your footprints by way of comments. There could be these hits -just because somebody accidentally touched the link whilst scrolling past their newsfeed on Facebook or it could even be because their smartphone behaved cranky that they were taken to this page of mine as opposed to some other internet destination. Yet there are a handful of these visitors who bother to pause, imbibe the verse, sometimes even prose sprayed on my page, and what more, decipher some sense out of the web of words and leave a gratifying response. All I have to say is, Thank You. For the fact that you even consider coming to my page, which is my Serendipity. If the words strewn in are something that makes you relate to your experience, or rather if you feel doppelganged, or a certain dejavu, then understand my dear Visitor, that you just brought a curve on my cheeks. A gentle smile. It means the world to me- tiny pleasures, for such a self-lover I am!
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Too premature to decide
To own, and have you by my side
You may even consider it as a bunch of trivia
But you just don't realise how profound
Your influence is.
Influence of a magnetic kind
That I'm being dragged to the walls of your presence all day.
You seem to be a recent development
Yet have got me traversing miles ahead in love-land.
My youth and mirth could well be invested in a younger generation
You just don't know it
I really don't care
Neither do I want to be termed blind;
For now I undo you from my history
All this- only until I find another one
Albeit, you'd still be special
Quite a dear acquisition!
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
He's my veritable pal within myself.
Somebody who stands in the corner of my dressing cupboard
Who smiles at me pleasingly,
Putting me at a comfortable ease!
No temple or lecture can fathom
The depth of my ethereal love for Him;
No rigid rules to be conformed with,
With him, I could be non-compliant,
He loves me that way...
He appreciates my natural self,
Just the way I choose to remain.
My bosom pal and worst foe,
He sits on the driver's seat
And shows me around;
Knows when to stop and start.
He drinks up all my mirth
And shines like wine:
He readily consumes my sorrows too,
Leaving no mark,
Wiping it clean like FIRE,
Without the slightest TRACE;
He's my God, my FACE...!
Friday, March 7, 2014
Monday, March 3, 2014
For fatigue had peeped in
Up with a heavy head
With sleep lurking in the sockets of my eyes
Splashing some cold water
Straight on the face
I begin to face the day!
The lamp is lit
The smoke from the incense stick begins to take flight
Permeating across the corners of the house
Leaving home an aroma.
Filter coffee chooses to then invade
A drugged drink I cannot evade
A smell that pervades
Right into your senses
Mincing all frets
Making one forget!
The daily chores go on as usual
The sound of veggies being diced
The shrill whistle of the pressure cooker
The din from outside:
Of cars and bikes
The zoom and vroom
With door bells and phone bells ringing
With the noise from the mind,
Reaching a higher decibel-
Competing with the external din!
Peace amidst all this
With just a dose of words and verse
The knife is put aside post chopping
Something mightier than the sword is beheld:
The Pen and The Papyrus-
I plunge into my sofa's corner thus...
Sunday, March 2, 2014
A lingering smell that encompasses the entire household, easily drawing us to the storeroom, without a doubt. That’s where the jack of fruits is stored. Its ‘porcupiney’ outer would have assumed a greenish-yellow hue. The common instruction found on bottles of medicine: ‘store in a cool, dry place’ could be aptly used for the storeroom at my maternal grandma’s place. A whiff of chill air always remains locked in the room, with mild streaks of sunlight that fall on the floor from the crevices of the roof.