Things with faces

World peace has a beatific face
but we are told it needs
the protection of horrors of war
love has an alluring face
but wears a mask of indifference
for it is afraid of rejection and ridicule
the face put forth by fear is that of disdain
it is loath to reveal its insecurities
the face of truth sparkles with divine light
buttressed by courage and conviction
but deceit wears a face so cunningly naive

lulling most into a false sense of faith and security
beliefs and things with faces all around
or is it faces with masks
so difficult to say these days!

Chasing the sun

Roused by the tender tickling of the tenuous sun
she stumbled out in the blush pink dawn
hoping to be caressed by its velvety, amber warmth
she ambled on the empty streets in the search of morn
but silvery ponderous puffs invaded the skies
she wandered wilted and was woebegone
twisting the tendrils of tensile hope
she asked the soaring eagles where the sun had gone
the labouring squirrels too had no answer
they were busy rooting around in the lawn
desperate and dismayed she continued to look over the horizon
but her eyes met the dusky grey curtains drawn
wearily she traced her footsteps back
chasing dreams leaving her dispirited and withdrawn
she opened her palm to let her yearning slip by
slipped under covers with a tired yawn
another day, another desire, she won’t give up that easily
to dream and chase them, she was born.

( I am trying to catch up with my reading. Please forgive me for the delay in responding to your comments. I will try to reply tonight.)

Making sense

I sit still in the pockets of stillness

holding delicately the errant heart

suspended between
the harsh and loud crashing waves of accusations

mulling over the razor-sharp words

and the wounds left on my wrists

inverted query marks that question your maps

of which way the relationship should head

cynical assertions mock simplistic way of looking at life

my views are like a lost alphabet alone and adrift

in the vast seas of sardonic know-allism

now when I look back at that naive, gullible person

I wonder was that really me?

My crumbling thoughts are doctored to sync with others’

the debris of such thinking falls in undulating patterns

it is a miracle that still some sense can be made

of the free-flowing bonds that keep us tied to each other

our silence often embellished with pregnant pauses

But where others see potential of emptiness

I see an ocean of turbulent continuity.

Written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge #112

Peace within

Day 31: Peace within

What is the rush, why the hurry
Why chase after a chimera
That will only bring grief
Ain’t you tired of running against the time
Can’t you see the sand slipping through your fingers
That elusive contentment comes quite cheap
But you are too blinded to see the secret door
The door that leads you within
There is an oasis of peace there
Untouched by the chaos and mayhem around
When the world gets too much to bear
Turn inwards to calm yourself
Being at peace with self is not easy
One has to forever be a learner
But the first step is to stop deconstructing self
And accept the warts for what they are
Serenity descends with the acceptance
That you have only one you to work on
And as you work bit by bit
The chaos will begin to dim
Stop seeking answers outside
Your questions are for self
Embrace yourself, as the adage says
And you may find peace within.

( Written for OctPoWriMo)

Oh, the lightness of being

Day 29: The Lightness of Being

To flit from flower to flower
Just like a pretty butterfly
To float like a falling leaf
Languidly on the pillow of breeze
To naively chase the iridescence
Of the dragonflies’ wings
Oh, the lightness of being!

To procrastinate, just because
To laze without a single care
To live in just that moment
To spare no thought for the future
Oh, the lightness of being!

To never run behind the beauty of anything
To smile at strangers without a reason
To laugh unrestrainedly and whole heartedly
To giggle unashamedly and being silly
Oh, the lightness of being!

(Written for OctPoWriMo)

Poetry Form: Sei Shonagon type list

Not white

Day 25: White


Is it karma
Non pallor

Not white
For plight

Dark complexion

Poetry form: Musette


Does the colour of my skin bother you?

Does the hue of my skin define me?

Who decided fair is beautiful?

And that dark is ugly?

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,

Why don’t the eyes move beyond the complexion?

Does the shape of my eye,

My radiant smile amount to nothing?

I am not white but brown

In a country of brown-skinned majority

Yet, men and women alike

Have reminded me time and again

That my skin is of a tone,

That is found unacceptable by society

I didn’t chose my colour

I was born with it

And I proudly flaunt it

I care not what others think,

I grew up looking at it

staring at me from the mirror

This is the colour I am most comfortable with.

(Written for OctPoWriMo)

I have posted two poems today, one in the suggested form, musette and the other in free verse. We were ruled by white men for many years and though we blame them for most of the ills plaguing our country, we are obsessed with white skin.

The lovable stray

Day 23: Fur babies

It was a dark, cold December night

Made colder by the incessant rain

Shivering and bedraggled, barely three weeks old

He walked into our lives, following my eldest sibling.

We were floored by his chocolate eyes

And his dappled, shiny coat

Mom, a stickler for cleanliness, was wary

We begged her to keep him for one night

Reluctantly she allowed us to keep him in a box.

“Just one night, mind you!” she warned!

Next morning saw him pawing the door

To go out and do his business!

Needless to say mom’s heart melted in a trice

He became the fifth sibling.

He came without a manual

We had never been owned by a pet

But his easygoing manner and fierce loyalty

Made going easy for all of us.

He was our playmate, our bodyguard

Participating in all our conversations

Sitting on his favourite chair

And generally having a blast scaring others!

Panting under our beds on hot summer nights

Snuggling at our feet on cold winter ones

He became an integral part of us.

He grew up to be a handsome dog

Loved by everyone, feared by strangers

His devotion saw him running behind our car

to movie theatre as well as my siblings’ college

Waiting patiently and then following back!

But perhaps mom commanded the most respect

One stern look from her and he would quietly slink away

He loved playing with dad,

who would feed him tidbits under the table.

Almost thirteen years he was with us

Never ill for a single day

So when his heart just gave way one November evening

It broke our family’s collective heart

Even after so many years

We haven’t had the heart to give it to another pet.

(Written for OctPoWriMo)

Poetry form: Ode