And the light was there…

(From Shuttlecock)

A closer dark encircles me
I find it harder to shake it off
the achromatic pewter dusk-dawn-sky
deepens to a coal blackness

regrets-strewn night descends icily
I singe my fingers as I reach out to the moon
all I wanted was a sip of cold winter
to damp down despair with numbing coldness

as the night begins to wear down
touched by the gentle golden fingers of the sun
the hedgerows birds suddenly begin to sing
I sit shivering and stuporous, with my sullen loneliness

Light alights on my sagging shoulders
lightening the burden of fears I carry
making light of the quilt of pain around me
and I shed my weariness.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Sarah, has asked us to write about light.

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Is the end a new beginning!

At the promise of spring
the schooner is finally set to sail
’tis better not to kvetch

Soul sisters share stories at night
doing mother’s will
Winning battles their way

With me, you better tread with caution
as passion often incites treason
bubbling and frothing to putrid death

I do have a yen for the luxury of anonymity
with appreciation, this heart does beam
keeping me warm and safe.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Laura, has asked us to use the last lines of twelve of our recent poems to write a new poem.

Sailing away

Painting by Edward William Cooke, Venice, A November Evening in the Lagoon (1859)

The gelid golden glow of dusk
hides in its bosom tears of blood
the schooner is finally set to sail
far-off lands beckon with fervour

hiding in its bosom tears of blood
untold stories of separation and love
far-off lands beckon with fervour
restless heart beats to the rhythm of the seas

untold stories of separation and love
burnished memories like a beacon of hope
restless heart beats to the rhythm of the seas
remembering the pain reflected in teary eyes

burnished memories like a beacon of hope
in the gelid golden glow of dusk
remembering the pain reflected in teary eyes
the schooner is finally set to sail.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Merril, has invited us to write an ekphrastic poem to some very interesting paintings.

Night after night

(From Pinterest)

Last night, like most previous nights,
elusive peace sat at the bottom of the bottle
looking at me with the same pensive eyes
an enticing smile on her amber lips
the ebb and flow of discontent
that was capped within
begged to be emptied
such prayers are not meant to be denied
I relieve her from tumult every night.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today I am the host and we are writing a poem which is connected to drinking. Read about it here.

Why doesn’t it suffice?

No
Two letters
One word
A complete sentence
Period
A “NO” needs no suffix
No prefix
No explanation.
A no is a no is a no
Get it !!!

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Sarah, says:

As we’re here, in mid- November, I thought it might be fun to pay tribute to Thomas Hood’s poem. Just in case I get a resounding “no” from you, here are some options:

1. You could take a line from this poem and use it as springboard for a new poem. Golden shovel it, or use it as the first line – or even the title.

2. Just say no. There’s something you want to take a stand against, something you want to stand up and say “NO!” to. Maybe it’s pollution or global warming, or something political, or the way your next door neighbour plays prog rock at full blast at 3am. Whatever it is, get it out of your system and into a poem!

(I’ve gone with the 2nd option.)

My husband is home after sailing for six months. As a result my writing and reading will be a bit more erratic and sporadic than before. Please bear with me.

The wreck

The Lonely Lady moved with stately stature
unrelenting against the unforgiving sea
valiantly weathering wuthering waves
under the cataclysmic colour of night

the gales of November battered it from all sides
yet it battled on, refusing to be swept away
the waves broke over the railing
the derricks, the anchor; all were creaking

with a grim look on his face and his hand on the helm
for hours the captain remained rock steady
he had faced the inclement seas earlier too
but never seen it turn fifty shades of grey

but the hurricane did not tire of whistling endlessly
it whined and moaned, singing a dirge
then one last time the wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
with one last hiccup, under the Cherry Moon, the Lonely Lady went down.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Lillian, has given us a list movies that were awarded Razzies and asked us to include atleast one title in our poem. Here’s the list.

Shining Through (1982)
The Lonely Lady (1983)
Under the Cherry Moon (1986)
Cocktail (1988)
Indecent Proposal (1993)
Color of Night (1994)
Showgirls (1995)
The Postman (1997)
Battlefield Earth (2000)
Swept Away (2002)
Catwoman (2004)
I Know Who Killed Me (2007)
Fifty Shades of Grey (2015)

The words in bold are the titles I have incorporated.

I was listening to The Wreck of Edmund Fitzgerald, when I sat down to write this poem. The words in italics are from the song and my tribute to my favourite artist, Gordon Lightfoot.

Remembering grandfather

Our large home was run over with guests
most of whom I had neither seen nor  met
but such was the force of personality of my grandfather
people from far- flung areas had come to pay him last respects.

Mild-mannered but with a spine of steel
a connoisseur of food
a stern dad but a doting grandfather
his passion for movies, he persued with zeal.

My mom was running around harried and tired
making everyone comfortable, bone-weary though she was
dad was red-eyed yet composed
coming to terms with the fact, his father had expired.

Though surrounded by women, grandmother was all alone
being commiserated over her loss
she was a feisty woman but that day she sat
silent and distant, as if carved out of stone.

There were scores of children, running all over
unaware of the gravity of situation
elders tried to keep them quiet
but those tykes were no pushovers.

Since last night when grandfather had passed away
no one in the immediate family had eaten a morsel
he was of the ripe old age of ninety
so a grand feast (after his cremation) was underway.

The priest called for my uncle; the eldest son
as preparations for final rites were being made
everyone looked high and low
where could he have disappeared, for this was just not done!

Upset at his absence, my grandmother bellowed his name
out came he from the pantry, all flustered
his mouth stuffed, naan in his hand
contrite and embarrassed; his face red with shame

“I just went to check that the seasoning is alright”, he stuttered
as grandfather’s favourite food was being prepared
uncle’s rumbling stomach couldn’t resist the aromas
and he had reached for the hot naan buttered!

All gathered burst into stifled smirking fits
shaking their heads and clucking in disapproval
my grandmother too could not help smiling
my uncle, too flabbergasted to gather his wits.

My practical grandmother immediately made an announcement
there and then, putting her grief aside
henceforth there would be no fasting in our family
come death or any other bereavement.

Thanks to my uncle and his insatiable hunger
on that somber day of cremation
at every solemn occasion of death in the family
with a smile as homage, our grandfather we all remember.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Mish, has asked us to write a poem commemorating a loved one we have lost, in the spirit of  Dia De Los Muertos, the “Day of the Dead”.

*According to our scriptures, cremation cannot take place after sunset. As long as the dead body is at home, fire cannot be lighted, hence no cooking. Thus neighbours and friends chip in and bring food and beverages for the bereaved family till the cremation takes place.

The language of love

(From Pinterest)

The tinkle of glass bangles
valiantly tries to hide
the hullabaloo as heart wrangles
with mind on who will preside.

Feelings send chits to all concerned
hoping for an early hearing
overwhelmed with affection yearned
too long lost in the jungle of longing

Love is an unstoppable juggernaut
thundering through logic and reason
leaving the prosaic mind distraught
passion often incites treason.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today I am the host and we are exploring the Indian origin words in English language. Read about it here and join us.

Blood moon

Cumulous clouds casually claim the pewter skies
haze hangs around the horizon aimlessly
stars sulkily scatter haphazardly
all conspiring to delay the moon rise sighting

Dressed in glorious berry red
hands decorated with henna
her melodic eyes filled with untold stories
she awaits for a glance of the traveller
too aware of the heavens’ mischief making

Finally the blood moon makes an appearance
matching her attire and her wan smile
both following the path laid for them
unquestioning, unflinching
soul sisters sharing stories at night.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Sarah, has asked us to write a moony poem inspired by the various names of the moon for the month of October. I have also used some words from Jane’s random word generator.

Last week, in India Karwa chauth was celebrated( inspiring this poem). You can read about it here.

Bubbling to death

From Istock

Stay on the back-burner for a while
I pleaded with my passion
let me play other roles for now
you have to learn some patience

I could see it floundering
in a rush to be ahead of others
flailing and falling helplessly
so it needed to feel before flourishing

Stepping back would help it ferment
and then foment with excitement
slowly stewing steeped in its juices
to effervesce with vigour and vivacity

alas! I let it be for too long
it started feeding on its fetid self
my passion that was raring to go
bubbled and frothed to putrid death.

Written for dVerse poetics. Li had asked us to write on fermentation. Since I am late, I am sharing it at OLN.