The best things in life are free

And with fingers entwined
we lay on the mud floor
counting stars and gifting each other
constellations. During the day
we dodged the streaming sunrays
as we dreamt with eyes wide open
our upturned palms
caught the crooning raindrops
rainbow bubbles our prized possession
the whispering trees our steadfast guardians
the laughing blooms were our playmates
we had little then but life overflowed with laughter
now there is no dearth yet no reason to laugh too.

Written for dVerse MTB. Today’s guest host, Anna, says : Gnomic poetry is the long lived and loved practice of moralizing in verse. Choose a maxim, aphorism or proverb, the focal point of your poem must have a moral or assert a philosophical position on life. 


Matters of heart (NaPoWriMo)

If it is about the matters of heart
no picture can do justice
nor paint every emotion, every desire
you need exact words to convey
what the heart is feeling
every throb of heart needs decoding.

That sudden flush of first love;
when your heart thuds loudly against your ribcage
and you are sure everyone can hear the deafening sound
the heartbeats seem to tattoo an unknown emotion in your chest
overwhelming you so much that you are unable to speak
no picture can capture that!

You need words to express that first exquisite kiss
when your lips fumbled to find theirs
and how that kiss had you in raptures
that coursed through your veins with the intensity
of a thousand forest fires.

What about the bottomless pit
your heart fell into when it was broken
how it took you eons to retrieve each piece
each shard was needed to create the mosaic it is now
the raw pain and agony that seared the soul
only words can define the agony.

That overwhelming feeling you had
when you held your firstborn for the first ever time
the tender, confused, fearful thoughts
no picture could have conveyed
the cavalcade of emotions running through you.

No paintbrush can put feelings to canvas
no camera can click on cue
the way words are able to communicate
emotions need articulation through words
pictures often present incomplete stories.

Today’s challenge is to write a poem that argues against, or somehow questions, a proverb or saying. They say that “all cats are black at midnight,” but really? Surely some of them remain striped.


The painstakingly painted pretty smile
struggles to sit sanguinely
on burgundy lips that hide the gnashing teeth

the turmoil within looks for a crack
the kohl rimmed eyes blink rapidly
errant tears seep within noiselessly

the carefully made bed with nary a crease
is the silent witness to
what will remain under covers

the moon bedecked in borrowed finery
keeps a tacit eye on the shenanigans
of the devious dark night

tranquil morning hides pewter smudges
behind powder-pink daubs of clouds
sun shines fiercely, unconcerned.

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

For today’s prompt, I’d like you to consider one of the adages/proverbs listed below as inspiration for your poem. You don’t have to include the line itself….but we should be able to guess pretty easily, which line you used as a jumping off point to create your poem. Do give the line and its source at the end of your poem, and of course, mention the poem is written for dVerse.

  • “Many hands make light work.” Adagia
  • “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” Poor Richard’s Almanack
  • “Fish and visitors stink after three days.” Poor Richard’s Almanack
  • “To err is human, to repent divine, to persist devilish.” Poor Richard’s Almanack
  • Things are not always what they seem.” Bee-Keeper and the Bees” from Aesop’s Fables
  • “The truth shall set you free.” John 8:32
  • “To everything there is a season.” Ecclesiastes 3:1
  • “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.” Forrest Gump, the movie.

Proverbially speaking

Absence makes the heart grow fonder – proverb

The day goes by in painful slow motion

so not unlike the others before

segueing shamefacedly, silhouetted

against the reluctant, recalcitrant night fall

loneliness, my constant handmaiden,

drowns me in a downpour of misery

these days I don’t feel whole anymore

a part of me left with you when you left

I am trying to fathom what part am I missing

is it my hands, which on their own volition seek you

remembering your beloved contours

or my skin that yearns for your touch

now feels starved, parched and dry

my eyes maybe, for they see without seeing

forever wanting to drink your sight

my ears too seem to be straining to hear your voice

its undulating cadence and huskiness

perhaps it is my heart, which though still with me

beats as if against its will

torn in two, it pumps silent tears

and I roam around the home touching things,

drinking them up with my eyes

listening to the silence and telling my heart to beat again

trying hard to be whole in your absence.

Merril at dVerse says, “For this prompt, choose a proverb or a pair of proverbs. Use them as you wish—as an epigraph or within the poem.”