Being with self

Silence drowned by brash noise and sound
when mind wallows in shallows of din
’tis best then to retreat within

in nature’s lap inner peace I found
gentle murmur of rustling leaves
birdsong a soothing refrain weaves

quietude; nothingness around
breathe deep, relax, calm your senses
let go of all mental fences

gratitude and deep bliss abound
no intrigue, no suspense; just calm
accepting flaws without a qualm

being alone, a feeling profound
solitude is the place to be
when I am in touch with just me.

Silence drowned by brash noise and sound
in nature’s lap inner peace I found
quietude; nothingness around
gratitude and deep bliss abound
being alone, a feeling profound!

Written for dVerse MTB. Today’s host, Björn has asked us to write a Constanza.

Beclouded

A smattering of wispy, delicate clouds
hide the brooding blood moon
light dims, air stills
comets whizz past softly
lest they step on the nebula cart

wheel gently past all the stars
waiting for the clouds to part
in awe watches the earth
quake in anticipation all earthlings
perfectly aligned moon, earth and sun

burn all the books proclaiming
sun has been swallowed by the beasts
if the end of the world seems nigh any day
time to go back to history books.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Lillian says:  I want you to choose at least one compound word from the list below to use in your poem. You may choose to use more.
AND

FOR EACH COMPOUND WORD YOU DO USE, I want you to take apart the compound word within your poem. You can do that by a) putting the first half of the compound word at the end of a line and the second half of the compound word immediately at the beginning of the next line OR b) by separating the two halves of the compound word with punctuation. You MUST separate the two root words that make up the compound word.

You may  NOT put additional words between the two root words, and you may NOT add a letter to either of the root words.

In other words, the root words must be used exactly as they appear in the compound word!

Here’s the list you can choose from:
crosswalk
handshake
armpit
underestimate
goodnight
honeydew
earthquake
cartwheel
moonlight
showoff
waterproof
moonwalk
nightlight
midnight
hotdog
daytime
starfish
sunburn

(I used words in bold italics.)

Morpheus eludes

Morpheus

These parched eyes do crave
the cooling dew drops of dreams
but stay sleep deprived

the night is sleepless
and the morn is still sleeping
the lone moon loiters

my eyes dodge sly sleep
I fill the space betwixt lids
with your loving thoughts

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Sarah, says: give me your sleepy poems! Your poems of rest and relaxation, of drifting off into the golden haze of slumber! Your spiky poems of lying awake while your lover snores beside you! Your forty winks on a sunny afternoon!

A set of three haiku on elusive sleep.

That thingamajig

The time is upon us of those hot, long days

everything moving at such a slow pace

I think I can hear the footsteps of my mind

though it seems to find itself in a bind

that thingamajig which kept it ticking and going

has vamoosed completely and gone into hiding

playing peekaboo with precipitous peeks and glimpses

like a novice I fail when within a few inches

is it roaming like a nomad in search of greener pastures

am I no longer a good, clever master

has it has been lured by someone else

for I can see in the vicinity a jealous elf

all these years of practice at writing

gone to waste with that thing flying!

I enveigle it, as one would an errant young one

with treats of likes and comments well spun

I chew quills, tear empty page after page

raging at being so unfairly caged

if you see my thingamajig lurking somewhere

just show it the path to my aboutwhere.

An old poem reworked for dVerse OLN being hosted by Sanaa.

Sweet indulgence

Thine alabaster skin makes me sigh
Thine alluring rotundity is oh so sly
A flowery tale more sweeter than thou
I pen to proclaim my abiding love and how!

Thou oozy overload of tastiness
Thou sisterhood of lusciousness and sweetness
Soaking sweetly in a bath of sugary syrup
Thou makes my knees go weak and heart rate climb up!

Ah! Delirious do I feel as I bite
The pillowy softness, airy and so light
As juices invade my mouth gushing forth
My eyes close in ecstasy untold!

The gustatory gratification that you generate
The cavalcade of sweetness I venerate
Your chilled demeanour satiates my sweet tooth
Dear rasgulla*, you’re my favourite dessert is the truth!

*rasgulla: Rasgulla, also known in Rosogolla, Rasagola, or Rosogola is a South Asian syrupy dessert popular in the Indian subcontinent and regions with South Asian diaspora. It is made from ball-shaped dumplings of chhena (an Indian cottage cheese) and cooked in light sugar syrup made of sugar. This is done until the syrup permeates the dumplings. Should be had chilled.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s guest host, Misky, says: So here’s the plan. Let’s play with our food. Our favourite food. Or treat. Breakfast? Lunch? If this was your last meal – what would you want on your plate. Is there a plate? Maybe it’s finger food. So instead of counting syllables on your fingers, let’s lick our fingers, and write some food poetry.

P.S. I have changed the image because the previous image (which I am sharing below) seemed like boiled eggs to many! 😅

Call of duty

He was not supposed to leave. He had promised to be my side after his last call of duty. And he kept his word. It was an idyllic life, filled with music, books, food and long walks. I was happily busy, he was contentedly lazy, what else could one desire!

Then a phone call changed everything. I cried, I pleaded, I sulked but his set jaw told me his mind was made .
“I cannot refuse to go”, he said flatly. “You know what the situation is like. And once its over, I’ll be back.”
Through clenched teeth I asked, ” For how can I be sure?”
“I shall see again the world on the first of May”, he promised grimly, a steely glint in his eyes.

I live on tenterhooks, waiting anxiously for April to end.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Merril, says: Write a piece of flash fiction or other prose of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line.

For how can I be sure
I shall see again
The world on the first of May”
–From “May Day” by Sara Teasdale

Maia

Lily of the valley

Blooms dance
waving their arms
embracing the sunshine
no care in the world to stop them
it seems

it seems
all they do is
unfurl their prettiness
their struggle to survive remains
unseen

unseen
toiling hard roots
working behind the scenes
silently strengthening network
of dreams

of dreams,
realities
tangled in a mess
still life stops not, moves constantly,
ceaseless

ceaseless
movement may not
be true living. Sometimes
living is to make others smile;
blooms dance.

Written for dVerse MTB. Today’s host, Laura, says : given today’s double whammy of the 5th of the fifth month, our challenge today will be:

Either the cinq-cinquain,

a series of 5 [entire] Crapsey Cinquains, 25 lines total

syllabic count: 2-4-6-8-2 in each stanza

written with or without breaks between stanzas

 OR the cinquain chain/crown cinquain.

a series of 5 [entire] Crapsey Cinquains, 25 lines total

syllabic count: 2-4-6-8-2 in each stanza

written with a break between each stanza

last line of the previous cinquain repeated as first line of the next cinquain

Note: The final line of the last cinquain does not have to equal the first line of the first cinquain, but it is an option.

The most dangerous

It does not feel good when made fun of
to take all the insults,
meted out by those in a better position, quietly

to never call out a bully
to know you are right and still not assert self
to never raise your voice against injustice
all these are really, really bad

It is not the worst thing to lose the race to top
It is also not the worst thing to have your heart broken

To be cheated of your hard-earned money is certainly not the worst
nor is being beaten blue and black by the upper caste people

To be leered at and groped is very bad
to be abused, sexually or otherwise can almost kill, still it is not the worst!

to be put behind the bars for having a mind
to have no one at your side
to bow to the tyranny of a tyrant
are surely signs of a deeper malaise

It is quite bad knowing
that what is being done to the environment is not good
yet shrugging your shoulders thinking
how can one person change things

Deriding others on the basis of religion is terrible
as is on the basis of gender
yet it is not the worst

The worst is being so burdened
by the humdrum existence of your life
that nothing ignites your passion nor boils your blood
to be the living dead, to just exist
to be indifferent to all that is happening around
is undoubtedly the worst curse of all


carrying the corpse of a throbbing heart and a thinking mind
is the worst crime and the most dangerous of all.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Li, says: Today’s challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to choose one or more of Kubler-Ross’ stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance) to write about, in relation to your, or another’s, current state of being. Or maybe you aren’t in any of these stages at all. Write about that. There will be few restrictions on the writing challenge today.

Frustration ( a quadrille)

Long before
the advent of
free WhatsApp calls or emails
communication
with seafaring spouse
was limited
to snail mail
which at times was delivered a month later
or short, steep, static satellite calls
where a mere “hello”
could rob one
of a few dollars!

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Mish, says: Write a 44 word poem sans title including the word “static” and post it on your blog or website.

Calling Mr. Brutus

Brutus, dear Marcus Brutus, where art thou
We have present day Julius Caesar
and thy presence is acutely missed now
His ambition would sure give you seizure
He is no one’s friend, nor faithful and just
He wants to bring many a captives home
For justice his sacrifice is a must
On the face of earth he shall no more roam.


Rise, rise, wherever you are please rise
It is time to slay the tyrant tormentor
Strike firmly at his heart thrice in a trice
Rid this world of despotic dictator
Finally in peace entire world will pause
No more damage will anyone dare cause.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Ingrid, says: We are paying homage to the Bard. Use your chosen title somewhere within your poem (you can also use it as the title of the poem, if you wish).