Mulling spices

From Istock

Honeyed mellifluous words tinged with paprika
drip from your crushed cinnamon coloured lips
your vanilla skin with a touch of sea salt and saffron
is reminiscent of the theatrics of the Tuscan sunset
like a swollen river undulating through verdant vales
the need for you flows recklessly through my veins
sometimes you are zatar, at others garam masala
making my staid life a mural of flavours.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Merril, has asked us to get spicy. Read about it here.

Also for moonwashed weekly challenge.

Thoughtlings

Murmuration by Lee Madgwick

Lying supine
a tiny, niggling, not-so-good thought
waits for darkness to descend
then like a magnet
attracts many more
coming in droves
all flocking my mind


soft murmurs turning cacophonous
tumbling, jumbling, shrieking
moving at lightning speed
traversing my mindscape
finding gaps, filling niches,
overwhelming my being
making my head throb

then finally tired of chasing themselves
they depart
leaving behind an empty shell
denuded, deprived, distressed.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Sarah, has asked us to write an ekphrastic based on Lee Madgwick’s artwork shared.

Mistrust

From Pixabay

The scintilla of doubt
that wormed its way into your mind
if only it were aliferous!
alas! it has sowed a seed of suspicion

I see the crease of frown on your forehead
as you slip uneasily into dormiveglia
I hear the susurration of your brain
as it wrests with your heart

my defence is bare truth
which may sound unbelievable
but I can’t utter gilded lies.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Mish, has challenged us to use some uncommon words. You can read more about it here.

Also for Eugi’s moonwashed weekly challenge.

Choices or not!

From Shutterstock

The colour of my skin
The country of my origin
My sex and my parentage
My name and my heritage
Of these I did not get to choose any
Nor did others in this unfair journey.

I am from the land rooted in the belief of karma
Where we are taught to follow our dharma
But if everything is predestined
Should we then our preference rescind?
Then why are there options to make a choice
Should we then ignore our gut’s voice?

Since I can think, my choices I do exercise
Others may concur or decide to criticise
There are always many options to choose from
Our choice will decide our future’s outcome
Alas! If only it were so simple and plain
Yet I stand by my choices and don’t complain.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s guest host, Christopher, has asked us to write on the concept of choice.

Scent of a memory

From Shutterstock

Clad in your tatty old sweater
embraced in your woody, spicy fragrance
perched precariously on the crescent moon of past
I balance the glass of golden fire on my palm
bringing memories of oaky, peaty, smoky muskiness on your breath
I inhale sharply
the wispy whiff that wafts in
burns my throat with remembered bittersweetness
I taste the sweetness of brackish tears on my lips
my heart is awash with sharp, tingly feel
I can smell warm, sticky blood.

Written for dVerse poetics. Our guest host today, Jo aka Worms, has asked us to write a poem of scents.

A river’s journey

From Pexels

Holding firmly the hands of both the banks
the river whispers to the trees and the sun
at night she bathes in the dappled moonlight
murmuring lullabies to anyone who would listen

Wind and dust leave an indelible trail on her skin
she furrows untold stories on earth’s bosom
dawdling neither in the desert nor the shady nook
ceaseless, continuous; with teeming life she hums

Her tears invisible, she writhes thunderously in pain
disrobed by humanity, yet always full of grace
the weeping rain falls on it gently, in penance
frothing with emotions, the tide she will embrace.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Sarah, has asked us to write on one of the four elements.

Where dreams had died and…

I am in his city after a long, long time
my impudent feet, despite my stern command,
traverse the same old path
they had taken some twenty years ago

It is a surprise that the place still stands
despite the modernization whirlwind
I make for the same corner table
the gladioli in the crystal vase
bring back memories that need exorcism

I order a bottle of Zinfandel to quieten the ghosts
as I wait, I glare at the textured walls
that snag my tortured thoughts
which have gone into a tailspin
listening to Cale in the background

There’s no buzz of conversation
as it is a slow Monday
discreetly under the table, I kick off my heels
and I can swear they sighed inaudibly
being caressed by the cool marble floor 

“Still the barefoot goddess!”
the voice from the past that could liquify my heart!
exasperated with my imagination
I shakily reach for my glass
he slides into the chair opposite me and just sits there_

biting my lips I try to contain the decades old maelstrom inside
it threatens to spill from my eyes
looking intently and earnestly into my welled up eyes,
he says, “Please let me begin from the beginning…

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Merril, says: So today, in my father’s honor, I invite you to write a poem of any style about a restaurant.

Blessings

The benevolence and magic of October
extended its warmth and vibrancy twice over
to the humid and humdrum August

showering it with boundless blessings
most precious and priceless
drenching it with sheer abundance

August, swinging between sweating and downpours,
is the month of plenitude for me;
rains or no rains.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host Sanaa, says: For today’s Poetics, I want you all to write a poem about August. Feel it in your bones. Come tell us what the month means to you.

(August is special for me as both my kids were born on the same day four years apart.)

Change for worse

At night the psychotic wind went berserk
the evasive brown grass waved crabbily
bits of paper twisted and turned curvy
like energetic juveniles
the urban jumble whispered grumpily till dawn

in the morning bathed in the alluring golden glow
the sentinel trees stand quietly watchful
monsoon’s remnant lies undisturbed
but these dregs do tell a bitter story
of displaced and moody seasons
waylaid by human greed
chagrined seasons restlessly look for home
having lost their compass  they have turned bitter with malice

no cooing flocks of doves
to offset the terrifying truth
the deserted path tells a tale
that has no listeners.

Written for dVerse poetics. Also inspired by Sadje’s wdys and Jane’s random word generator. Today’s host at dVerse, Lillian, says: Write a poem on any topic in any poetic form, that includes at least one of the flavors of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream in the list. You can check the list here.

Stories; told, untold

Stories have no feet
yet travel
on wind or rain, through words and deeds
complete or incomplete
constantly in motion; like women
like trees; growing, branching
replicating over time
crossing man-made boundaries
finding familiar ground of love and greed
hate and destruction
uniting despite divisions

All stories are the same
and yet told differently
carrying seeds of the past
in the embryo lies the future
moving along jagged coastlines
meandering with rivers
soft as snowflake
like labyrinthine mysteries
unfolding symmetries
unknown to our minds.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Lisa, says: Now that I have hopefully acquainted you with the concept and examples of fractals and connected them to poetry by subject and application, your challenge, if you choose to accept it, is:

1) Use any of the definitions, examples, images, or application of fractals to inspire you to write whatever strikes your fancy.

OR

2) Think about something/someone in your world that you have, up to this point, only given a superficial consideration of and decide to look a little closer at it/them. Use what you discover as fodder for a poem.

Stories are fractals. Read more about it here.