Love & life

(From Shutterstock)

Love and life not always synonymous
yet why does one
always think
life is

a gift
not promised
often unfair
but one can’t tell her, “go just get lost life”!

Written for David’s W3 (where the POW D Avery has asked us to write tetractys) and for Eugi’s moonwashed weekly prompt.

Wishing Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate and to the rest, a happy Sunday! My home is all topsy-turvy due to the renovation work going on. I will be unable to blog for a couple of week, so wishing you all the very best for 2023. Warm hugs to all braving storms and freakish cold weather. Stay warm, stay safe.


Till then… (the light of Vika Muse/ NaPoWriMo)

By Ukrainian artist Vika Muse

bathed in the forest light
listening to the night song
we will be closer than ever before
I will lean on you, o moon!
I will listen to your stories
and recount mine
words will be our balm
so will be silence

life will be full of
simple pleasures
mundane routines
and ordinariness
of your coffee and my tea
of smiles that don’t hide pain

we will learn to coexist
till then
life I will continue to exist.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Mish, says : choose an image by Vika Muse that speaks to you. Let it guide you on your poetic journey wherever that may lead. Any theme, any style of poem.

Read more about Vika Muse here.

Also for NaPoWriMo. Today, in honor of the potential luckiness of the number 13, the challenge is to write a poem that, like the example poem here, joyfully states that “Everything is Going to Be Amazing.” Sometimes, good fortune can seem impossibly distant, but even if you can’t drum up the enthusiasm to write yourself a riotous pep-talk, perhaps you can muse on the possibility of good things coming down the track. As they say, “the sun will come up tomorrow,” and if nothing else, this world offers us the persistent possibility of surprise.

Life is words

Besotted, you watched intently
as words dripped tellingly from my

When I laced my fingers through yours
heart tattooed its favourite song
you’re mine

That summer of love drenched in rain
we traced dancing shadows lying

The intricate latticework of
passion enfolded us in its

No dream did seem impossible
but then, life didn’t like our planning

Shattered shards I pick everyday
never knew broken dreams could hurt
so much


Pain assauged through each word written
therapeutic exercise I

Each experience enriching
however broken; beautiful,
life is.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Grace, says:  write a Synchronicity poetry verse.

This poetry form is written in the first person revealing accidental yet seemingly synchronized events.

The definition of synchronicity is the state or fact of being synchronous or simultaneous; synchronism. Coincidence of events that seem to be meaningfully related.

As a poetry form, this consists of eight three-line stanzas in a syllable pattern of 8/8/2. This poetry type has no rhyme and is written in the first person with a twist. The twist is to be revealed within the last two stanzas. This form was created by Debra Gundy.


Journeying in a linear line
her life was wholesome and carefree
unhampered by the hard edges of living
embraced with passionate gusto.

Before her plane intersected with that of other people
she was just another pebble on the beach;
shorn of rhetoric, steeped in reality
skipping under the shady trees.

She could not run parallel with expectations
the geometry of life required fresh perspective
armed with nothing but her skills
she tried to hush the rising panic.

Feeling boxed and suffocated by toxic relationships
(beguiled though she was by them once)
she realised, ever changing dimensions of existing
needed to be tackled with enhanced tools every day.

Fragmented Life

(From Pexel)

1. The familiar faces, the tentative hugs
smiles radiating brilliantly through masks
words tumble out in a hurry
trying to make up lost time
perhaps I am alive again

2. Words clamour to skip on paper
to showcase and receive applause
I quell them forcefully
sometimes ordinary conversations
steal the limelight of meticulously crafted words
taking centre stage surreptitiously

3. Snatches of tête a tête, whispered gossip
I turn hearing my name
wiping guilt from his face, he smiles
I smile back
he carries baggage from the past
which has no place in my future

4. We know not when the next opportunity will arise
ominous “you know who” is spreading tentacles
I had stepped into the reality of living
only to be snatched back from the brink
to the unreal life of real fears.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Laura says: So for this prompt we are to write a Modernist/Post-Modernist Fragment poem ~by that I mean

a  poem of several  numbered stanzas. Each being complete in itself and having only a passing relationship to each other, if at all
a poem of disjointed images (like listening to conversation in passing, repetitively switching between radio/tv station, random images across a screen, or paintings/photos seen in a gallery)

Your poem should NOT conform to any rhyme scheme
Your poem MUST include Fragment(s) somewhere  in the title.

We took a road trip recently to attend the wedding of a classmate’s daughter. Meeting school friends after a gap of two years was unreal but magical.

Theatrics of life ( OctPoWriMo)

(From Pexel)

Day 13

Prompt: Theatre

Form: Rhyming couplets

Hey, Mr. Director! I think the script needs a revision
There are very few happy scenes and too much tension!

Could you tell the scriptwriter the cues are all askew
Why is it the same old story and not something new?

Why don’t I as the main protagonist have the centre stage?
Why does the audience age as in the play I age?

It’s my life’s drama, shouldn’t I have a say?
Somehow I am not happy with the progression of the play.

Why wasn’t I given a bound script at the very beginning?
Why do I have to improvise only on your telling?

Why, pray, can’t I do it when I need to?
You treat me as a puppet on string, yes sir, you do!

And listen, Mr. Director, you can’t just thrust me into limelight
We need some rehearsals if the show is on day and night!

Next time when you decide to cast me in the drama of life
Do allow me to play the role as I envisage to avoid any strife.

I am not the kind to leave the production midway
Even if it is not to my liking, till the end I’ll stay!

Next time I will be my own script writer as well as the director
It’s time, sir, for you to hand over the reigns of this theatre!