Cubist me

Boxes within boxes, side by side
some neatly lined
others stacked haphazardly
angular thoughts causing abrasions
convoluted ascension, linear descent
whorl of mind unready for unfolding
fractured heart papered over with smiles
fragmented emotions glued carefully
a whole image revealed in parts
a lie; maybe truth
interpreted differently by everyone
though a perfunctory bystander
may not like the art.

https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2020/07/30/reenas-exploration-challenge-146/

इश्क/ Love

Sharing an old post which is in both Hindi and English.

paeansunpluggedblog

दरख्तों की बाहों में इठलाती हुई चाँदनी
वक्त की शाख पर इश्क का फूल खिला गई

गिरा जो इश्क-ए-फूल मेरे दामन में
इक आह सी निकली और रूह तलक पहुँच गई

होश ऐसे खोये कि न दिन का पता न रात की खबर
जुनून-ए-इश्क में मैं दिवानी हो गई

कतरा-कतरा पिघलता रहा मेरा दिल
इश्क की रोशन शमा बन मैं पल-पल खाक हो गई

उसको न खबर मेरे दिवानगी-ए- इश्क की
वो मजनूँ न बन सका पर मैं तो हीर हो गई

वो इश्क ही क्या जो अपने अंजाम पर पहुँचे
इश्क के स्याह समंदर में डूब कर चाँदनी फना हो गई।

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Moonlight revelling in the arms of trees
left blooms of love on the branches of time

A bloom fell into my arms
a sigh escaped the lips and touched my soul

I lost count of day…

View original post 56 more words

Six tea cups

In the hushed, dusky pink gloaming
on a stout, vintage table
six dainty teacups sat waiting prettily
to be kissed and sipped from!

But no clattering footsteps ascended the stairs
no laughter, no banter, no swinging doors
the house was deserted
and so was the pergola bereft in the garden.

Waiting endlessly into the inky night
they strained to hear voices,
any voices
but silence was the sole occupant
within the lustreless, withered walls.

An old faded letter lay on the console
written in beautiful cursive, now faint and pale
a sudden breeze caressed those words
fluttering the letter, thus bringing them alive!

The teacups rattled and the curtains danced
and like magic a frisson ran over the home
and it forgot its loneliness, momentarily.

What do you see # 40 – 27 July 2020

Eugi’s Weekly Prompt “Magic” July 27, 2020

VJ’s Weekly Challenge #106: touch

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge: Tuesday, January 14, 2020

Tomorrow

Despair is sprawled in the kitchen in the mornings

I pour hot water over it as I make tea

Melancholy sits sulking on the breakfast table

stalling all conversation

I smack it with the newspaper

Frustration lies coiled in every corner

I sweep it away determinedly

Gloom fills the sink along with the dirty dishes

I scrub it hard and wash it away

I try to cajole joy out of its slumber

and borrow exuberance from the birds on the trees

I have been fighting the same battle, these past few months

Losing a few and winning some

Every night I seek refuge in the magical stars

who know too well that sun will rob them of their light

Yet shine bright, not letting forethought wan them

I go to bed with hope in my heart

Tomorrow will deliver what today did not.

VJ’s Weekly Challenge #105: Quotation

Fleeting moment ( In Free Verse Revolution)

It was a moment like no other
the setting sun sat pensively in my lap
as the rising moon listlessly plucked stars from my hair
I gathered them all in my blistered hands.

Sipping on a sea froth infused cocktail of longing
with sea waves humming a dirge in my ears
and my dreams reflected in the dark shroud of the sky
I let go of the galaxies
that I held tightly in my palms!

They slipped like the grains of sand to scatter
stranded sea-shells-like in the wind
I curled up like a withered leaf
to give up the semblance of being alive
adrift I float
pretending to be living,
but dead.

Thanks, Kristiana.

Art and science

My friend, the fabulous Mel along with Gary and Jeanne had held the fantastic bake-off last year. I had written a fun poem about it. This year the bake-off is back, bigger and better as THE GREAT BLOGGERS’ BAKE-OFF 2020 SUMMER PICNIC ! To celebrate the festive like atmosphere, in these trying times, here is my verse!

https://crushedcaramel.wordpress.com/2020/06/25/what-will-be-in-our-picnic-basket/#like-22950

‘It’s an art,’ she glowers
‘It is all science,’ he insists
I smack my head in exasperation,
(Secretly smiling at their joshing)
‘It is baking, plain and simple!’
My off-springs and me are stationed in the kitchen
After an afternoon of wrangling and arguments.

I am reluctant to pass the baton
But tired of their everyday demands
I decide to divulge some secrets
Of my much guarded weapon of satiation!
The man of the house hovers in the background
Curiosity in his eyes, a smirk on his face
He has been forbidden to enter
Lest he spoils the ambience for the baking class
( He is known to be irreverent and a smart alec!)
I measure everything deftly and precisely
Moving with practised ease
Asking them to mix and sieve
‘See the exactness!’ my son exclaims triumphantly
‘It is pure science!’
Once it is done to my nitpicking standards
I pour the batter in pans and place in the oven.

None of us very fond of icing
I have devised ingenious ways to keep moist my cakes
I boil sugar and water, adding this and that
Then pour it on the freshly baked beauties
With a twist of my wrist, I add
Sprinkles and choco chips straight from the jar
And a pretty pattern on the cake emerges
“See,” says the daughter smugly,
“This is pure art!”
Helping himself to a huge slice from the still warm cake
The man of the house breaks into a smile,
“This is pure mouth watering!”

Night after night

Night after night, since nearly a week
He stands there
Somewhere between heaven and earth
Saying nothing
Just standing there
On long winding stairs
(The height making me giddy)
To my utter horror
A smile dancing in his eyes
Beckoning me to join him.

Night after night I feel powerless
I want to push him away
Break the spell
But wake up with a start
Sweat drenched
Seemingly stuck in time
Unable to wrench myself free.

I vacillate weakly
Should I give in to tiredness
Or continue to fight
The diehard me wants freedom
To erase unwanted memories forever
Or not
To write the next chapter
Without pressure
To suit myself

Maybe, I will.

What do you see # 38 – 13 July 2020

VJ’s Weekly Challenge #104: Next Chapter

Faceless

The crowd is always faceless

It becomes easier to merge in the crowd

Become one with the multitude

As a part of a mob you have no individual identity

Following others with herd mentality

Deaf to your own timid voice

Playing puppet to the one who pulls the strings

It is so easy to follow the lead and go with the flow

For under the cloak of anonymity

With conscience fast asleep

You can get away with almost anything

Yes, anything.

That is why it is difficult to stand solo

You are in the hot, glaring spotlight

You are singled out for your beliefs

For standing up for truth and probity

For daring to chart a lone path

When you stand forlorn, all alone

Yet, undaunted and firm

You are derided and crucified

You cease to be faceless.

Eugi’s Weekly Prompt “Identity” July 13, 2020