Pickle-tickle

(From Cooking Light)

Winter time
pickling greens and roots
freshness and
succulence
for long-lasting endurance 
main ingredients

Wash, pat dry
then trim chop and cut
let them bask,
sun and shrink
gently rub with seasoning
let steep in the brine

Sunbathing
for a week or two
sweating then
plumping up
in own juices with spices
sweet, sour, savoury

Tart flavours
a firm favourite
pungency
fieriness
lip-smacking taste enhancers
my soul a-tingle

Piquant notes
palate a-tickle
ecstasy
redefined
dance merrily on my tongue
am satiated

Utter bliss
tingling tanginess
sensational
sensations
a gustatory gala
so gratifying

Tart flavours
Palate a-tickle
Pungency
Succulence
A gustatory gala
Am satiated

(From Vogue India)

Written for David’s W3. POW Sylvia says:

  • Write a shadorma, up to seven stanzas long;
  • Topic: Favorite food/s to prepare and/or eat
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Giving thanks

Winter’s indulgence
indulgence of life’s transience
transient tastes triumph

triumphant nature
nature’s gifts reaped together
to gather to toast

toast, waffles and jam
jampacked is family do
doing mother’s will

Written for Sadje’s wdys, Eugi’s moonwashed musings weekly prompt and David’s W3 (a chain verse of at least 3 haiku including the word mother, by Aishwarya). Sharing at dVerse OLN.

Happy Thanksgiving to all those who celebrate.

Will, would, who knows!

From Shutterstock

Will my words sit timidly
on the threshold of life forever
hesitant, directionless and self-deprecating
or like restless vagabonds
traverse the unlikeliest of places
wandering on the lips of strangers unknown

What determines the life of a song
is it the number of times it is sung
or when its relevance surpasses time
to flow into eternity
morsels of soul wrapped in metaphors
do they satiate other souls
or meet disdain and curl up and wither
trampled by indifference

From these tattered, stitched up verses
would anyone try to piece my lies
or would they lie gathering dust
under a stash of showy strophes
would some wise eye espy the thread
of truth discreetly running through
or would they be dismissed as trite tedious tropes

Spring-like these words gurgle on their own
they know not what they want
except that they want to flow
my pen gives them the spotlight that they crave
though I crave not the spotlight
a mystery, an enigma I claim not to be
I do have a yen for the luxury of anonymity.

Written for David’s W3 where POW Larry has asked us to incorporate chiasmus in our poem, for Eugi’s moonwashed weekly challenge.

Sharing at dVerse OLN.

Choking on air

(Delhi yesterday)

No clear skies, no moon, no stars
only haze hangs low over the concrete maze
verdant greens wear a sooty grey suit
malevolent air chokes the throat
babies and elders are trapped indoors
effing cough refuses to subside, making everyone
reach for the ubiquitous air purifiers!

Written for David’s W3 to Paula’s prompt to write an acrostic on November.

You can read about Delhi’s pollution here and here.

Autumnal musings

1.

Warm ochre and orange blooms
vibrant hued festivities
season of sweetness overload.

2.

Yellowed leaves gently falling
providing warmth to the earth
from the oncoming chilly winter.

3.

Smog chokes ragged breaths
descending greyness
settles cozily in the lungs.

4.

Hot, spiced pumpkin latte
welcoming the darker half
a spook fest on the cards.

5.

Autumn’s celestial bodies
cast a golden mellow glow
rites and rituals and fruitfulness.

Written for Sadje’s wdys, David’s W3 to Sylvia’s prompt (a cadralor on autumn) and Eugi’s moonwashed weekly challenge.

Sharing it at dVerse OLN.

A tryst that wasn’t

Off they went into shroud of mist
a day break tryst
no prying eyes
no need for lies

So inviting; fruit forbidden
they were smitten
gentle, morn light
oh so quiet!

Alas! raucous birds‘ noisy racket
they pulled jackets
traced back their steps
their tryst a hex!

Written for Sadje’s wdys, David’s W3 to Lesley’s prompt (a humourous minute poem) and Eugi’s moonwashed weekly challenge.

(Will catch up with reading tonight)

Fate, the superior lass(es)!

Three sisters of Fate by Sushrita Bhattacharjee


Alas!
If only it were possible to earn
even a shred of pittance at a time
for when I think I have an upper hand
she smirks and puts me two steps back

spent spring unaware of her designs
all summer railed against her biases
as autumn approaches, I am much resigned
I’ll do me, she’ll do her; till winter arrives.

Written for David’s W3 to Steven’s prompt and Eugi’s moonwashed weekly challenge.

Steven has asked us to respond to ‘Superiority of fate’ by Emily Dickinson.

‘Superiority to Fate’

Superiority of fate
Is difficult to gain
’Tis not conferred of Any But possible to earn

A pittance at a time
Until to Her surprise
The Soul with strict economy
Subsist till Paradise.

Ode to dead ends

From Unsplash

It is time to hail the dead end
the closed doors and lack of opportunities
It is time to accept that a dead end often points to another path
sometimes more scenic and fulfilling than
the one you had set your heart on

detours; forced or voluntary
open windows into the unknown
it may  or may not happen serendipitously
but there is no accompanying drama
of thunderstorm, lightning or celestial prophecy
it happens unobtrusively,  quite quietly

pushed willy-nilly into teaching high schoolers
was like being thrown into the cage of a hungry lion
except that they were a bunch of forty antsy teenagers
and I, the object of their curiosity
I became the lion in the enclosure
to be watched and poked at

after those initial days of hiccups
we did grow together; the teacher and the taught
learning as I began teaching
being enriched while enriching lives
and the job that I never wanted
changed my life forever
and continues to define me even after I quit
enfolding me in a warm embrace of fuzziness

dead ends are not full stops; they are but semi colons
not glaring red but flickering  soft green
which you may miss if you blink
next time you are up against a wall
pause, don’t give up and look around
believe me you will find a chink.

Written for Sadje’s wdys, David’s W3 to Deepthy’s prompt and Eugi’s moonwashed weekly challenge.

Also sharing at dVerse OLN.

Dream binary (a pantoum)

Trapped within the binary of a frangible dream
I ride to the skies on butterfly wings
guided by a stray, aglimmer moonbeam
the rainbow a divine ditty hums and sings

I ride to the skies on butterfly wings
bedazzled by the zillion glittering stars
the rainbow a divine ditty hums and sings
the zephyrs strum along on the guitars

bedazzled by the zillion glittering stars
floating on the cushiony, candyfloss clouds
the zephyrs strum along on the guitars
but before I can pluck a star, mist shrouds!

Floating on the cushiony, candyfloss clouds
guided by a stray, aglimmer moonbeam
before I can pluck a star, mist shrouds
I am trapped within the binary of a frangible dream.

Written for Sadje’s wdys, Eugi’s moonwashed weekly challange and David’s W3 for Aditi’s prompt.