The wind is chilly

It’s cloudy outside

The atmosphere inside is frosty

I am recipient of cold vibes

When my ice-breakers fail

And there is snowfall of my mind

I shutter my heart to keep it warm

And wait patiently for the thaw.

Written for Tuesday writing challenge.


Joys of Cooking

I stir the pot and turn around

To keep an eye on the oven

The younger one pipes from his room,

“What’s cooking, ma?

This smells heavenly!”

I smile inwardly and ask,

“Better than the burger you order?”

He shouts back, “Any day!”

I sigh with relief!

When I am no longer around

I hope the aromas of my kitchen

The flavours I create

The tastes that tickle their palate

The home style cooking

The freshness of ingredients

The recipes of generations

Will keep them coming back

To the humble kitchen

In spite of their hotshot career choices

And globe trotting lifestyles

With home delivery on the button

Convenience of fast food and meals out of packet

That they will still enjoy the simple joys

Of cooking and creating magic

And it won’t become a dying art

To be recreated in boutique restaurants

Of Michelin star chefs!


The days are short

The nights seem shorter

Time seems in a hurry

To move ahead

When all I want from it

Is to go slow…for one day

Or just one night!

I plead with the sun to traverse the sky

In slo-mo

But he looks at me balefully

Shining more fiercely

When the moon comes up

I beseech her to linger and loiter along the way

She shrugs her shoulders and blames the sun

For her limited time across the ether

I pray to the stars to twinkle longer

But they wink at me and disappear

All I wanted was this day to never end

So that I could spend it

In the arms of my beloved

And make memories to last eternity

Alas! I wasted my time in entreating the time

Which I could have spent with my loved one.


Today was finally the day

The day her lifelong dream would be realised

It was a simple dream

And every time she was close to it

It had seemed further away

As she stepped out of the salon

She felt as if she was floating on air

Her glorious kinky hair

Which she so disliked

Had been smoothed and straightened

As she jauntily tossed her head

Her frizz-free hair moved like a silk curtain

Making her smile widely.


In my heyday
I was tall and slender
Much coveted and prized
Adored by the young and the old alike
Rapier-sharp, I was feared too
I could make or break a deal
But I was known to be amenable
To corrections and changes
I would capitulate easily
At just a touch
And retrace my steps on gentle pressure
With the passage of time
I have become short and squat
Abandoned and derelict
I still pack a punch in able hands
But people prefer tapping to writing
I am your humble pencil.