Globe trotting days
Postcards testimonials
Vignettes of past
captured in eternity
Edges blurred and fading
Unfocused stories
play hide and seek
The knot in the stomach tightens
Was I ever there?
Memories gradually seep in
To fill the gaps
Wistful remembrances
A sigh of relief.
Written for Sadje.
The first time I ever saw your face
Getting off the morning train
My hear went boom boom pow!
I may not have been a pretty flamingo
You too were no puppet on a string!
I remember that Monday
Monday when you told my mom
Mrs. Brown you’ ve got a lovely daughter
Honestly that was somethin’ stupid to do
But we were addicted to love
And against all odds just beat it
All I can say we are as happy as we can be.
Written for dVerse. Today’s host Lillian says: For today’s prompt I’d like you to go to the website https://mybirthdayhits.com and plug in your birthday. There’s a spot in the upper right-hand corner of the site for you to enter your birthdate. Have fun scrolling down the years, seeing what the #1 tune was on each of your birthdays. Pick at least one of the song titles that hit the charts at #1 on your birthday – one that resonates with you – and use it in its exact wording within your poem. Of course you’re free to choose more than 1 title and see where the muse takes you on putting them into one poem! Be sure to give credit to the song titles and the artist at the end of your post – and, if you’d like, share your birthdate with us too! Take a moment and listen to the songs as well! Have fun with this one, grooving down memory lane.
Songs in the verse:
The first time ever…. Roberta Flack
Morning Train… Sheena Easton
Boom boom pow…The Black Eyed Peas
Pretty Flamingo..Manfred Mann
Puppet on a string…Sandie Shaw
Monday Monday…Mamas and Papas
Mrs. Brown you’ve got a lovely daughter…. Herman’s Hermits
Somethin’ stupid… Frank and Nancy Sinatra
Addicted to love…Robert Palmer
Against all odds…Phil Collins
Beat it …. Michael Jackson
Happy…. Pharrell Williams
Words, words, words! However much I write about them, there is always more to write.
They gush forth like a river in spate, giving me no pause to stem their flow. They gurgle happily like an infant asking to be mollycoddled. They are like an earworm refusing to be quietened. They fall over each other clamouring to be captured and meet the eye of the reader.
It is often the paucity of time that puts breaks on their ride. Some wither away, some die with exhaustion and some go in hibernation refusing to be cajoled to grace the pages. Only the hardy ones survive to tell their tale.
Perhaps it is my pact with them that I will give voice to them without being judgemental which keeps them from deserting me.
Raindrops keep falling
a backdrop to my musings
constant thrum of words.
Written for dVerse. Today’s host Frank says: Feeling a little blocked? Vent about it! Have a story to tell about a recent writer’s block? Go for it? Never had writer’s block? Tell us your secret! However you approach it, write your haibun that alludes to this perennial frustration of writers.
I bottle feelings everyday
dram by dram, drop by drop
disappointment and despair,
resentment and that pain
as well as the blinding rage
they all go in the same bottle
carefully, without the funnel
I pour meticulously;
drip, drip, drip
spill not even a driblet
and get on with the infernal life
with a plastic plastered smile
when the sunless cloudscape presents itself
I sit with myself
the bottle by my side
I swallow a mouthful of asperity laced cocktail
sip by sip, sip by sip
scanning the skies for stars to guide
the inverted questions remain suspended
mocking me with every passing moment
the knot in my stomach gets tighter
weary, tired and angry
I sit there with my empty bottle
waiting for dawn to pick a fight
same old, same old life goes on
with a sigh I get ready to bottle feelings again.
Words too often play games with me
Pirouetting away quickly
To appear with alacrity!
Refusing to be strung just so
Treating me almost like a foe
Then sweetly falling in a row
Without them, what our life would be!
Mostly same words are used by all
Some fly, others falter and fall
Can writing be everyone’s call?
Of success there’s no guarantee!
Yet words do entice everyone
Coaxing hidden poets and some
write earnestly, others for fun
Words sure are public property.
Written for dVerse. Today’s host Grace says: write a poem in Zéjel poetry form as described above. There are 2 rhyme scheme variations which you can choose from, and the theme is your choice.
Read more about Zéjel here.
Tired of the congeries of compromise
night pauses haltingly
to collapse within itself
the miracle of solitude
no longer thrills her
sceptic memories lie frozen
in the limbo between shadows and reality
gathering its tattered skirt
lined with despair
she makes way for another day
fresh faced, happy draped in an amber glow
he arrives on the wings of a birdsong
but the rigmarole of humdrum routine
leaves grey smudges under his eyes
needless to say he
realises too late he is just
like a suggestion of the previous day.
There is nothing mellow
about that burst of taste
and a riot of flavours
(which engage all the senses)
of the luscious, juicy,
forbidden
and much coveted
fruit of fantasy.
Written for dVerse. Today’s host Mish says: Write about an emotion or abstract concept. What does it taste like?
That night, doubts lingered like shadows
unspoken words hung like heavy chandeliers
eyes shuttered the unbecoming reality
we sat like two strangers
our misaligned hearts
refusing to beat in tandem
but cowardly courage refused to sing
So we went back to the usual drudgery.
Written for dVerse. Today’s host Linda says: The word today is Linger or any form thereof, or even one you create containing the word.
Let me hold your tiny hand once again
I want to relive those idyllic days once more
Let us walk down the elusive memory lane
When you were my little angel, oh so pure!
I want to relive those joyous days once more
To fill my pockets with memories of your childhood
When you were my little angel, so very pure
I just can’t believe you are stepping into adulthood!
To fill my pockets with memories of your childhood
Those sun filled days of carefree gurgling laughter
I can’t believe you are stepping into adulthood
My little doll is all grown-up, of age from hereafter.
Those sun filled days of carefree, gurgling laughter
Let me make a gallery of reminisces once again
My little doll is all grown-up, of age from hereafter
My heart is filled with such a sweet pain!
Let’s walk the gallery of reminisces once again
Let’s chase butterflies one more time
My heart is filled with such a sweet pain
Let’s catch sunbeams and hear woods chime.
Let’s chase butterflies one more time
Let me send you off with a heartfelt smile
Let’s catch sunbeams and hear woods chime
Your journey will be long, cover it mile by mile.
Let me send you off with a heartfelt smile
Though melancholy smites my poor heart
Your journey is long, cover it mile by mile
And I will from afar play my part.
Though melancholy smites my poor heart
I cannot but be happy for you
And I will from afar play my part
It is now your life to live and pursue.
I cannot but be happy for you
My dear little angel, oh so pure
It is now your life to live and pursue
But let me hold your hand just once again!
https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/2021/09/20/what-do-you-see-100-september-20-2021/
She stands in the serpentine queue
with all the eligible voters from her family
under the blazing relentless sun
she is used to the queues,
queues for rations, queues for gas cylinders,
queues for dole,
queues for daily wages after back breaking work
she waits patiently for her turn
(like many around her)
to repay the cost of a saree,
some cash and a bottle of arrack
(for her good-for-nothing spouse)
not knowing that her vote
can make a difference
to the outcome of voting
and make a mockery of democracy.
She sits listlessly
under the humming air conditioner
sipping chilled daiquiri
watching with disinterest the serpentine queues
outside polling booths
not inclined to brave the heat and dust
to cast what she thinks is her meagre vote
(there are many like her)
she has never stood in a queue all her life
and elections won’t change that
her husband has an important meeting
her kids are holidaying in the Swiss Alps
the elections too inconsequential for them
thus democracy is mocked again.
She stands alone and proud in the queue
determined this time not to be bullied
to cast her vote according to others
passionate about voting on issues not the parties
inflation, education, safety, health her priorities
no party wants to talk about these mundane matters
they inflame passions on religion, caste and jingoism
surefire ticket to complete autocracy
she maybe a knocker, called a rabble-rouser and be all alone
registering her voice paramount for her
she won’t allow democracy to be mocked again and again.
Linking to OLN at dVerse being hosted by Björn.
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