As winter chill creeps stealthily into pleasant autumn nights it is time for cosy evenings of hot cocoa and story times children dressed in warm flannels clamour for an engaging tale all eager-eyed and twitching ears granny sits draped in a pashmina shawl she loves retelling the forgotten fables another hearer quietly patters in ever ready and an avid listener ears cocked, head tilted to one side glasses on and a warm woollies on seeing the quorum of future story tellers complete with a satisfied gleam in her eyes granny begins spinning a yarn “Once upon a time in ancient India….”
My tired eyes refuse sleep with reluctance, like an alcoholic refuses that last drink. Fear keeps my eyelids pinned open. Somewhere, drifting between extreme sleepiness and the need to be awake, I doze off. Only to wake up with a jerk. Groggy and disoriented, I walk up to his room. His CGM* reads 53. In panic I search hurriedly for the glucometer and the testing kit, fear making me butter-fingered. The commotion makes him stir. He looks up, gives me a lopsided smile and goes back to sleep. With trembling hands I take another reading…it reads 78. I sink to the floor shaking with relief. It is 3.00 am and sleep has bid me goodbye. I sit in the balcony waiting for dawn. Most nights are uneventful, some cause this drama. But fear has become a part of the night routine. The threat of hypoglycemia can do that.
Moon my namesake** smiles as I give her company I hide my heartache
Written for dVerse. Today’s host Frank says: Let’s feel the spooky sensation of this coming Halloween/Samhain! Let’s celebrate that emotion of dread. Let’s write our haibun that states or references fear.
*CGM: contant glucose monitor. Used to monitor glucose levels of diabetics, especially type 1. ( My fourteen year old son is Type 1 diabetic.)
**namesake: Punam in hindi language means the full moon.
Every morning as sunshine pours into my home the nearby mango tree waves cheerily sitting in my chosen spot in the balcony I pour fresh brewed tea in my favourite cup feeling warmed inside and out I feel the golden and amber seeping into my cracks.
The moonlight is a salve for my achy soul bathing my being luxuriantly the soothing scent of tuberose welcomes me as I pour my heart on a pristine sheet words flow seamlessly my cup of contentment runneth over.
Expectations, others as well as mine put a spanner in my flight fears, rational or irrational grip me and relentlessly bite dichotomy between reality and perception of all my efforts makes light obsession with an orderly house keeps me forever tense and uptight guilt and remorse nibble at my soul never letting it soar like a kite failed relationships bother me frustrated, I every now and then gripe grief engulfs me all of a sudden leaving me feeling heavy; chest tight negativity all around swallows me my heart withers caught in the blight failure’s shadow looms large occasionally making me with remembered ignominy writhe lack of empathy and compassion everywhere I keep wondering about this world’s plight weighed down by all this, it is no wonder I don’t see at the end of tunnel any light.
by an exact spot in the sky, I witness a shift of light, breaking where no sun shines
Why am I traveling where really there is no road the forest road was shut many moons ago
in gangrene hues, over a pyramid in the desert, life is distilled; I fear water
It’s so easy to get lost and disappear, into the nothingness of despair I feel relief at the abandonment
where the wind and dust travel easily along my skin, leaving trails of of the journey thus far I am ready for something called home.
Written for dVerse. Today’s host Laura says: Select ONE of the above ‘lost poems’ (or one of your own finding where something or someone is lost ) and re-write is as a ‘Found poem’. It does not have to be as rigid as an erasure poem for you can add in some of your own words or even reorder it.
I have used the following poem. The phrases/lines used by me are in bold.
(Lost By Way of Tchin-Tabarden by Susan Rich
Republic of Niger
Nomads are said to know their wayby an exact spot in the sky,
the touch of sand to their fingers, granules on the tongue.
But sometimes a system breaks down.I witness a shift of light,
study the irregular shadings of dunes.Why am I traveling
this road to Zinder, where really there is no road?No service station
at this check point, just one commercant hawking Fanta
in gangrene hues. C’est formidable! he gestures — staring ahead
over a pyramidof foreign orange juice.
In the desert life is distilled to an angle of wind, camel droppings,
salted food. How long has this man been here, how long
can I stay contemplating a route home?
It’s so easy to get lost and disappear, die of thirst and longing
as the Sultan’s three wives did last year. Found in their Mercedes,
the chauffeur at the wheel, how did they fail to return home
to Ágadez, retrace a landscape they’d always believed?
No cross-streets, no broken yellow lines;I feel relief at the abandonment
of my own geography. I know there’s no surveyor but want to imagine
the aerial map that will send me above flame trees, snaking
through knots of basalt. I’ll mark the exact site for a lean-to
where the wind and dust travel easily along my skin,
and I’m no longer satiated by the scent of gasoline. I’ll arrive there
out of balance, untaught; ready for something called home.)
The Compound Word Verse is a poetry form invented by Margaret R. Smith that consists of five 3-line stanzas, for a total of 15 lines. The last line of each stanza ends in a compound word and these compound words share a common stem word which is taken from the title. (In the first example below the stem word is “moon” from the title “Moonlighting”; the compound words related to the title are moondust, moonbeams, moonsongs, etc.)
The Compound Word Verse (3 lines) has a set rhyme scheme and meter as follows:
Daring to dream of dedicating life to the craft Is certainly not as easy as it seems Setting goals for self and then walking on the Chosen path; two banks of a river at times Intent to bridge the gap always there Perseverance is sometimes in short supply Life’s plans and mine often don’t coincide I am forever looking for a median track Not meeting deadlines I do hate Efforts continue to fall in line with the objectives.
A random like A heartfelt comment Comments I leave Comments I get Get me going Get me pumped Pumped to write Pumped to dare Dare to try Dare to create Create dreams Create verses Verses from heart Verses to share Share my life Share with strangers Strangers are kind Strangers become friends Friends who cheer Friends like family Family from afar Family that supports Support and encourage Support and inspire Inspire to write best Inspire to be better Better as a person Better than blood ties Ties that help bloom Ties that motivate Motivate to continue Motivate to just be Be kind Be grateful Grateful for kinship Grateful for love Love begets love Love is trust Trust each other Trust is nurtured Nurture relationships Nurture talent Talent must be applauded Talent is a gift Gift of humanity Gift a smile Smiles this community Smile is worthwhile Worthwhile Community.
Today is a good day to thank each and everyone of you for visiting, liking, commenting and cheering me on. A writer is nothing without her/his readers. I wouldn’t have grown as a writer without your encouragement. 🙏🏼❤️
Her petite frame and steely resolve nurtured and protected him loneliness not withstanding
Then he grew up
Waiting for him she died alone; the funeral pyre lit by a stranger
He hugs the urn containing her ashes for immersion in the Ganges*
Written for dVerse. Today’s host Sarah says: So tonight let’s write some ash quadrilles – 44 words, including the word ash.
*Hindus believe that the soul of the deceased stays attached to its body even after its demise, and by cremating the body, it can be set free.
To fully liberate the soul of its mortal attachments, the ashes and remaining bone fragments of the deceased are then dispersed in a river or ocean, usually at a historically holy place, like the banks of the River Ganges.