Monday, September 24, 2018

Monster on the Bed

The image is taken from Google. 

"Psst!"
"Hello, buddy!"
I greeted my friend up there.

"Mommy!"
"Daddy!"
He screeched. It hurt my ears.

"Honey, don't be afraid."
"Play with me."
I hoped he would be brave enough to reply.

"There is a monster under my bed."
"DO something!"
His wails got louder. I winced.

"Listen to me, kiddo."
"I won't hurt you. Stop jumping on my head."
I still tried to make him understand.

"My room is haunted!"
"The monster will EAT me!"
He danced hard on the bed. I was getting squished.

"Argh! Damn you!"
"I don't eat my friends."
I roared in anger. How dare he!

"Mommy!"
"Take it away."
He hollered. Why throw that round thingy at me when you are scared?


"Ouch!"
"Stop it!"
I cried in pain as my head hurt. I think I am dyin...g.

Monday, September 17, 2018

Fancy Dump Bag

The image is taken from sammydress.com 

Dump! Toss! Heap!
Yeah! Go on, honey,
Throw in a few more tissues.
Duh! So blasted annoying!
What does she take me for?
A fancy trash carrier?

Huff! Who needs all tubes, jars, and sticks?
Lipsticks, liners, powders.
Pens, stapler, crumpled paper.
Coins, crushed dollars, candy.
Ketchup and Sugar packets!
Am I a waste bin, darling?

Does she even know my value?
The celebrities hug and kiss me
They cuddle me like an infant!
I would be cherished on the air-conditioned shelves.
And here, I am, with this hyper kid,
Suffering worse than a three dollar cloth bag!

Oh! Comes the Queen again
Ow! Nah, sweetheart, stop!
Hold on, for a minute, sweetie.
I'll have to teach you to care for your things.
What would you do if I vanish,
With all your precious junk?

Give it a try and see, girlie
I'll be gone in the blink of an eye. Whoosh!!

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

The Forgotten Bell


In the middle of an ancient land a temple, long
forgotten stood tall against the onslaught, year after
year. Why did no one care about it?
Who would? The bronze bell chimed in agony. Was
the king to be blamed? Were the people guilty? One day, I heard
the bell's strained words that shook my soul. No!
Never again! No invader, no crusader would ruin my land anymore.


Painting by Mrs. Ratna Pochiraju
The poem is written in the Golden Shovel poetry form.
The words are taken from The Solitary Reaper by William Wordsworth. 

Wednesday, September 5, 2018

Window

The image is taken from Pixabay. 

Light and dark, bright and gloomy- the words echo in my mind that is as empty as the house.
It's time to open the barred window. My suffocating soul needs the summer sun.
Let the breeze ruffle my shady curtains. Let the flowers remind me how to smile. 

Sunday, September 2, 2018

Twinkling Star

The image is taken from google search

What is that I see? A twinkle!
Oh my! How beautiful a twinkle
it is! Can something so little
shine brighter than a star?

There it is again. The twinkle
now paired with another twinkle!
Like two lovers, close yet apart. Little
by little I creep forward to see the new star.

As I get closer to the twinkle
it shines brighter than my twinkle!
My tips shimmer in fury. Those little
eyes are competing with me, a star.

I glare at them, my twinkle
threatening to dim their twinkle.
Alas! Nothing happens. The little
eyes continue to dazzle like the star.

A sudden cloud hides my twinkle
I peek from behind, astonished to find the twinkle
dim and dull, lost in the dark night. A sad little
voice whispers far away, "The clouds stole my star."



This style is called The Golden Shovel. Interesting, right?
The words are taken from the famous nursery rhyme. I used only the first line in repetition. 

Monday, August 20, 2018

You'll See

The image is taken from etsy.com

Dangerous! Can't go out of the hole.
Danger! The cat lurks to devour.
Anger! I smell it on the restless feline.

Explorer! She named me with pride.
Explore and raid! Only for her alone.
Ex! She tells about me to others.

Afternoon already! My tummy rumbles from hunger.
Noon leaves! I'm starved as the tabby refuses to walk away.
No! I'm not giving up yet, my kitty.

Amused, aren't you! Silly, moggie.
Muse is still on my side, you'll see.
Use all your talent, grimalkin. I'll sneak right under your nose.


Monday, August 6, 2018

Paradoxical Life


Life said I should be a gentleman
why can't it be gentle
while I strive to be a gent.

Life deserves together
only sincerity can get-her
living is impossible without her.

Life cannot be forgotten
I might have said I forgot
but, I know its hope I look for.

Life is a never-ending compromise
what's a broken promise
I keep searching for a mise.


The poem is writing in Diminishing Verse

Wednesday, August 1, 2018

The Burnt Stick


On a winter eve, she carried hundreds of us, tied into bundles. One by one she lit my fellow mates trying to warm her blue skin. By dawn, they lay useless on the damp pavement beside her frozen body. We failed her. 

Monday, July 30, 2018

The Glass Bowl

The image is taken from PetGuide website. 

My world was small and bare
As I kept swimming in circles

A handful of pebbles at the bottom
As I kept swimming in circles

Sad and dull, moody and sulking
As I kept swimming in circles

All alone, I owned the house
As I kept swimming in circles

gobbling the tasteless food
As I kept swimming in circles

The little girl giggled and clapped
As I kept swimming in circles

My sorrow sighs drowned in her squeals
As I kept swimming in circles

She had friends to play with
As I kept swimming in circles

I stared at the glass wall surrounding me
As I kept swimming in circles

Where are my friends, I cried
As I kept swimming in circles

My tears lost in the water surrounding me
As I kept swimming in circles

keeping my heartbreak a secret
As I kept swimming in circles

I knocked my head against the glass
As I kept swimming in circles

Hoping I'd go back to the sea
As I kept swimming in circles

Alas, I was flushed into murky waters
As I kept swimming in circles


Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Clipped Wings

The image is taken from Google search. 

The tiny hole made my heart flutter
What lies beyond the wall?

I tiptoed towards the imposing barrier
What lies beyond the wall?

No one ever answered my question
What lies beyond the wall?

Insisted, I do not think
What lies beyond the wall?

But how could I not ask,
What lies beyond the wall?

Not know the answer to my dreams
What lies beyond the wall?

Why can't my clipped wings fly over
What lies beyond the wall?

With tears in my eyes, I yearned
What lies beyond the wall?

As a burly man stood guard
What lies beyond the wall?

Ready to capture those who dare
What lies beyond the wall?

The twilight sky sent me to my mother
What lies beyond the wall?

She reminded me to be grateful to look at the moon,
What lies beyond the wall?

Yet, I continue to dream,
What lies beyond the wall?




Monday, July 16, 2018

Rain Dance


It’s time to sing our favorite song,
The rains are here again.

Step out dear sister, race the wind
 The rains are here again.

Listen to the clouds calling your name
The rains are here again.

Laugh at the look of splashed puddles
The rains are here again.

Let the drops sparkle in your ebony curls

The rains are here again.

Twirl and dance in tune to the splatter
The rains are here again.

Wave to the inky sky in delight
The rains are here again.

Oh, my sister! Let us celebrate
The rains are here again.



Painting by Mrs. Ratna Pochiraju


Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Meltdown

The image is taken from Google. 

The popsicle dripped down her hand. She licked it, wrinkling her nose at the added salt to the sweetness of the grape. With the sun roasting her alive, she finally realized how the turkey feels in the oven. 


A summer tale using 38 words. 

Monday, July 2, 2018

Water Under the Bridge

The image is taken from Google search. 

The rippling waves shied from my touch
like water under the bridge.

A gentle breeze blew the dead leaf from my fingers
like water under the bridge.

The glorious sunset left me in the dark
like water under the bridge.

The reason to wait no longer existed
like water under the bridge.

Yet, my heart refused to let go
like water under the bridge.

Twilight lost its stars in the clouds
like water under the bridge.

While I remained unmoving, my tears flowed
like water under the bridge.

The words of the past swirled around me
like water under the bridge.

The haunting agony not letting me move on
like water under the bridge.

Some stories never leave us alone
like water under the bridge.



This poem is written in Chant style. The poem has no rhyme scheme or meter.
"Water under the bridge" phrase has a different meaning, though I tried to use it in the literal sense, in the 'phrase' sense and also gave it a twist implying that the issue may still affect the person despite saying otherwise. 

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Myra's Wand

The image is taken from Google. 


“Do you have anything to say in your defense?” The wiry man with overgrown inky hair asked her.

“Yes, my lord.” Myra murmured peeking at the members of the High Order.

“You may proceed.” The man stepped to a side.

“I plead forgiveness, my lords. My little magic never hurt a being. If you do feel that I crossed the line, I request for another chance to make amends.” Her voice had the right note of apprehension in it.

The four members looked at each other and nodded. The wiry man, a representative, spoke. “Please step into the circle, young wizard.”

Myra obeyed wondering what it was. Her emerald green eyes shone with curiosity. But she remained silent. Her mother would be furious. Despite her repeated lectures, Myra did get the attention of the High Order. It was not a good thing.

Light from the crystal above shone on her. The room looked like a giant crystal ball with rainbow colors twinkling from all sides. Myra wondered if she could take a picture using her mobile. 

“Wizard Myra, please hand over your wand.” The man stretched his hand.

“But…” She looked puzzled. The stern expression on their faces left her no choice. She quietly took out a chopstick from her handbag and placed it in his hand.

“Thank you. Now, the Order speaks.” The man gestured.

An old man with apple-colored cheeks and round belly spoke. “Wizard Myra, the magical power always comes with responsibility. You have used the magic to do your homework, put a frog in your classmate’s dress, tripped an innocent boy, and stole a brooch from a jewelry store.”

Myra looked sheepish. Maybe she went a little overboard in using her powers.

“Even if we ignore those as a teenager’s silly indulgence, we cannot overlook the incident that led to a lost opportunity for a young man.” He continued.

“I never troubled any man, my lord.” Myra blurted.

Another member spoke. She looked at least five hundred years old. “You do not know the consequences of your actions, Wizard Myra. You only thought you were advancing the time so that you wouldn’t have to bear with your chemistry lecture. But, you interfered with the universal clock.”

Myra looked appalled. She twirled her wand thrice and pushed the time by ten minutes.

The apple cheeks man spoke again. “Many people got confused, missed buses, almost had accidents because the traffic signals jammed. And most importantly, a young man lost his only chance to get his dream job because his interview time got lost in your magic.”

“I had no idea, my lords,” Myra mumbled.

“We see that. You have not bothered to listen to your mother’s instructions. Not once did she misuse her powers.” The lady said.

“I apologize, my lords. I will never do such a thing again.” Myra vowed.

“Yes, Wizard Myra. We will see to it that you will not. The Order forbids you to use your powers.” They ruled.

Aghast, Myra blinked her tears. What would she do without her magic? “Please, my lords.”

They shook their heads. “If you prove to be worthy of your powers, you will receive them when you turn eighteen. The Order has spoken.”

Myra stared helplessly as the wiry man broke her wand. She was nothing without her wand. It was only four months ago on her sixteenth birthday that she became a wizard. Her mother tried her best to train Myra. She should have listened instead of taking the powers for granted.

With her head bowed, Myra let her tears fall. The place turned dark for an instant. In the next second, Myra found herself in her room.

She sat on the bed staring at her reflection in the mirror. The musical tune of her mobile phone startled her.

“You are late. Come soon.” Her friend scolded.

Myra looked at her watch and rushed out. She was late for the party. Running out of the house, Myra pulled the stick that held her hair together in a messy knot. The wavy locks flowed down her shoulders. She twirled it thrice. Nothing happened.

“You cannot fool the High Order. Your punishment remains extended for another three years. The real wand in your hand is of no use to you.” A voice spoke from above.


Cursing, she rushed to the nearest stop. She missed the bus by half a minute. With no taxi nearby, Myra walked back home. The wand a mere chopstick in her hands.  

Monday, June 11, 2018

The Nymph

The image is taken from Google and edited. 


It was middle of the night
when a flutter of wings
through the open window
gently shook him from his dreams.

He blinked in surprise
as the nymph blew him a kiss
and faded into the dark night,
luring him to step out of the house.

A flash caught his eye;
was it the nymph or a shooting star?
Mesmerized by the glittery wings,
he followed her into the woods.

She darted from one tree to another,
her tinkling laugh teasing his senses.
Tripping over roots and dead trees,
he lunged to grab her, to own her.

Deep in the thick forest, she enticed and vanished in a blink.
Bewildered, he heaved and huffed,
as fear tingled on his skin.

Soft voices floated around him,
easing his racing pulse.
The nymph danced with her friends,
their sparkle lighting up the delicate blooms.

His feet grew roots into the earth;
his limbs sprouted tender leaves;
tears flowed from his eyes,
as the breeze purified his heart and soul.

His vow to save the trees
echoed in the silence,
after the nymphs left him alone
reflect upon the damage humans do the Nature.

Wednesday, June 6, 2018

The Boon



"Open your eyes. Name your wish." The majestic figure smiled.
"Cool. Give me lots of sapience." He scratched the beard.
"It is acquired by implementing intelligence to gain experience," God explained.
"I used my intelligence to chant your prayer for 90 years. Now, give it to me." He demanded.






Monday, June 4, 2018

Where lies Future?

The image is taken from Google and edited. 

Where lies future? Curious,
I stare into the daylight
as the sun smiles glorious,
faint hope blooms to my delight.

I reach for the galaxy,
stretching to touch the starlight.
Clouds snowed on my fantasy,
turning me numb with frostbite.

It must be my delusion;
Life, I know is a tutor.
Yet remains the confusion.
So I ask, where lies future?



Trying out a new poetry style called the Ae Freislighe. (It's an Irish style of poetry.)

Monday, May 28, 2018

Ode to Salt Waters


Cold waves touch my feet, bringing tears to my eyes,
as I struggle with the burden of my sins.
The chosen pathway unknowingly leads me
deep into the chasm.

The distant hills echo my agonized cries
luring me with compassion I got nowhere,
even as the twilight sky left me lonely
with nothing but void.

Losing my last chance to go back forever,
I stand alone, begging the sea to take me
away to the point of no return. For me,
life is an abyss.



An attempt to use the picture prompt and emotion prompt in the Sapphic Ode poem.



Monday, May 21, 2018

The Unforgotten Lullaby

Those were the days of cassettes and tape recorders. I loved listening to songs, especially the ones by AR Rahman and Ilayaraja. I barely understood the lyrics. That did not stop me from signing my version of lyrics. Then CD’s came first followed by pen drives and memory cards. Technology advanced into iPods and music apps. We could download almost any song from the internet. Boasting a vast collection of instrumental music became a matter of pride.

The FM radio had ups and downs; some RJ’s loved more than others. But a common problem persisted- the advertisements that would play right in the middle of a song. World Space, the satellite radio with over 40 channels worldwide came to in the year 2000 (India). It came with a set-top box, a mini dish-like antenna, and a remote.

Life was heaven again. I no longer asked my father sing lullabies for me; of course, I was into my teens by then. The radio played all day in the background as we went about with our work. Mom had her favorite channel, dad his and I mine.

The morning began with Carnatic or Hindustani and ended with old classical Hindi songs or Western Classical (if I had my way). We ended up with two World Space instruments (one mine, other dad's) when they mailed about closing the radio station. I was sure it was a hoax. Alas, one not-so-fine morning, the music stopped. Dad and I refused to throw away the units. We contacted the people who worked with the company. They said it might be available online as an app. It did though the result was unsatisfactory.

I got a replacement in a portable music system (nothing fancy) with two small speakers. It stands on my desk along with three sheets of songs listed in chronological order. I am one of those people who need music to study, to write, to draw, to cook, to eat and to sleep (you get my point). Though I tend to listen to the same old songs (read favorites), I do try and keep track of latest numbers. But when I fail to sing a two-month-old song which topped the music charts, it does show the declining quality of lyrics. (I am one of those people who remember song lyrics even during examinations and viva.)

Now in my twenties, I miss my father’s lullabies. He sings, but not when I ask him to. I remember how mom would rock me to sleep as dad sung a song he learned from his mother who in turn learned from hers. Yeah, it’s more of a family song. One day in future, I’ll be singing it for my kids.
I don’t think it’s available on the internet, though a few relatives are trying to find the source of the song. It goes something like this one.

“Govinda ram ram, govinda hari hari (3)
Radhe govinda krishna, radhe gopala Krishna,
Govinda ram ram, govinda hari hari (2)
Palukanela palukavo, panchadara chilakavo,
Govinda ram ram, govinda hari hari (2)”


I am going to ask my dad to sing it for me and record it. This song always soothed me to sleep when I was cranky, grumpy and irritated. No matter how many favorites I have in music, this song will always be special. 


The image is taken from Dreamstime.com



Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Ode to Thunderstorm

The image is taken from Google and edited.

Oh! The blinding flash of lightning strikes again.
How the trees bow down in respect for the wind!
The lashing rain manages to soothe my soul
no sunshine could touch.

As the thunder echoes in my vacant heart,
the bolt that strikes a distant tree blinks at me.
Nature's vengeance they say. To me it is life
I cannot escape.

Thick dark clouds protecting me from the harsh sun
while the whirling wind carries with it the pain
into the realms of the unknown, my eyes blur
tears mixing with rain.



An attempt at Sapphic Ode with only syllable count and no scansion. 

Tuesday, May 8, 2018

Still Waters



In the middle of nowhere,
secure on the rippling waves,
with nothing but gold around,
we sat aware, yet unconcerned.

There was so much to say,
words swirled in my mind,
I look at you, my heart heavy,
your eyes devoid of emotion bring tears to mine.

How did we go wrong?
Which noise broke our whispered silences?
No, do not answer.
I see the truth in my heart.

If only! I wish!
Oh! How I wish,
each day, every minute,
but my courage deserts me.

The golden dusk was once pale,
in the warmth of your smile.
Today, we are mere strangers,
even as the rings glint in the sunlight.

I cannot bear this anymore,
let us go back to the real world.
The power of Nature breaks my heart,
only if I could, I would apologize forever.




An attempt to use the image as well as the word prompt (show guilt without naming it) in a single poem.