turning turtle

it is my rotten luck
you departed so long ago
yet ignite my soul

ignition turns turtle
you intuitively seek it
I depart hurriedly

clouds roll over

sky churns like butter
turbulent clouds roll over
you watch for night rain

rains beat on unwashed windows
dirt gets washed away
you are again as spotless as ever

goodbye, turbulent thoughts-
let the clouds roll away those
and may the bigger picture
enclosed within you
give way to rhapsody of senses

flinching fiercely

when squall hits the walls
rust dust gets washed away
cawing of the crow reverberates
fierce rains follow
I watch it all from my window
playing with a tendril of my hair
my eyes feel dizzy
my plans for emporium visit
too gets washed away

I sprinkle pepper on my toast,
flinch at its raw taste
that gets me back on earth
I know my saffron dreams
will materialise tomorrow or so-
emporium visit is but an excuse
to ignore the festering fissures
which refuse to heal

non-negotiable

why I negotiate
your so very random emotions
but let myself ebb?

ode to imsomnia

each small wrinkle on the bedsheet
bites into my skin
my fingers imprint on my face
I see flickering light in the dark
behind my tightly shut eyes
an itch starts somewhere
spreads all over
I try to scratch it away
the vicarious dreams
have turned to nightmares
each subsequent one
more demonic than the former
I rock myself but to no avail
on the first light, I sit up
railroads of steamy tears on my cheeks
make a nice pattern.

"don't you wish for that design to be knitted into a scarf?

waves of oceans in my glass

water from the glass seems to swirl
looking up from my work
I find it strange
waves fall over from the edge
I try to identify the source
oceans have entered into my home
why did they deviate
and come into my home
confined themselves into my glass
I saturate my brain by pouring it on my head

my coughing fit makes me forget you
believe me, a heaving chest is the best medicine
to let go of a lost love

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still having PC woes. Will get back to visiting you all as soon as I can.

eerily blue

Photo: Gathering by AlicePopkorn
















I erased the orange light
painted it eerily blue
outlines of the birds
flew into me
wheels stopped in wasteland
yet I found a tree
birds scattered into nowhere
but returned and gathered near me
in such a place of quietude
they too fell silent
we watched the fading light
and drowsily fell asleep

when sands came from all sides
all of us were buried alive.

"if you come and dig now,
you will discover the fossilized we."

stewed poetry

a single word rests in the shade
another follows it,
standing at a distance
after a while both come closer
one by one words come out them
I catch each one
place on a paper
juggling around I get a poem
not something original
yet not a copy
it is something like a magician conjures
out of nowhere it seems to everyone
yet it had been there right under their nose
thus the words have always been there
only a few gave them semblance of order
I don't claim to be one of those
but for a poet
I don't do too bad

you too come, catch a few a words
do make them memorable in poetry of stew
it ought to be relished by all not just a few

now close, now open

my magenta bed cover
mocks me. my turquoise
night wear clashes with that.
I fumble on the mattress
and let mists of sleep
block me out
nightly shadows
cast furtive glances
on the mirror

when morning sounds wake me up
the sun looks down on me
fern on my window too mocks me
magenta turns to maroon gold
I stare at it unseeingly.
misty tears trickle
fast and furious.
I am stuck with my closed plans
how do I open them now?

my arms around myself won't let me down

I hug myself
shutting everything out-
the pain is massive
tearing into my guts-
my arms around myself
hold me tight
so as to I don't fall apart.
I squeeze my eyes tight,
tearless I stay

why did I ever think
I could hold on to something
which was never mine in the first place?

that ache will be there a long time
yet I will stand upright
as my arms won't let me down

used envelope

in that snatch of paper
I list stuff
my pens in various state of disintegration
I make arrows out of those
my erasures falling apart
work as dices
my pencils all so blunt
I cut into small stacks
the paper I write on-
is a part of used envelope
all supposedly waste
decidely play a part in my life
I create magic out of those
aura reaching out to all

in my own small way-
useless junk I recycle,
to save our mother Earth

I tidy up the spilled frosted sugar

literally walking on eggshells,
I scratch my nails on my palm
patter of your feet stops my panic
my ragged breath rights itself
I tidy up the spilled frosted sugar
at times I can't fathom
the way fact occurs along with fiction
red welts on my arms tell a tale of decay
when you rub that salve to soothe it
I close my eyes and let you wash over me

a colouring book

in the cheap pages of her colouring book,
she draws pictures,
a ball of yarn, a balloon
a few scattered stars
the sun and the moon
she sketches her mother too
the face being blurred
her dad holding both their hands
her world is small
yet her yearning so big
those colours smudge-
demarcate too
trapping her within

"that blank page at the end says it all for that lonely child"

fantasizing about glass

that glass of water-
water swirls of it suddenly
uncannily I see you

beacon burns bright

I slowly roll grieve
touch it for a moment
and throw it as far as I can

I unroll my heart
letting you into it
beacon of it burns bright

a kindred, I found
in nothingness that was-
and firmly established it in me

"I await with impatience for it to wash me over, again and yet again"

sleeping dreams

so you sleep so peacefully
uncaring that I watch you
those eye lids moving along
with your tremulous dreams
your nose flaring a bit
the rise and fall of your chest
I subtly put my ears to it
picking up your heart beat
I sway to the rhythm of it
I steady myself and
my palms slide over you
your skin seeps ecstasy
into mine. closing my eyes
I join you in your dreams
adding some of my own..





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote that after reading the following. I don't know if it is transliteration or transcreation.

Variation On The Word Sleep

Margaret Atwood

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and as you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

chugging train

I shoulder the sorrow
smile at the faces around me
the chugging train takes me along
my thoughts are miles away
you are gone
I regret not being with you
for the past decade-
brunt of it sits heavy

sudden jerking makes my coffee spill
I hardly feel it seeping through my thighs
when I see you next,
you will be under those stones.
my questions unanswered
lay prone in my mind
my heart is chilly
the train chugs along unmindful

When I get there
no one will know me
if they do,
I will hide from their prying eyes
by drawing into myself
now leave me alone
let me breath through the windows
the cold will deaden me, letting me sleep

"the train will chug along, come what may be'

the saga continues

in that grecian urn,
Sr Silley burns
I put gasoline
along with limey beans
I think of tiny nibbles
over his poetic quibbles
yummy, I smack my lips
(while he bumps his burning hips)
I laugh at his fear,
he weeps over his fiery rear
I say, go baby go
don't be so slow
let the fire get you
let your face get more red than blue
I add a bit of wine
for that hateful s*ine.
oh my! my head pains
and in that instant it rains
all my plan go down the drains
Sir Silley is saved
and words to that effect are engraved
here lies the pseudo-poet, almost-
if only he had burnt to nice toast!

"thus our animosity continues with all shades of epic hues"

nicely toasted

your hideous smile
ambush mine
in that reflected light;
arrested I stand on top of thee
I meddle with your hands
tackle you to the ground
your doozy look can fool others
(mainly that woozy limpet in your arms)
you don't have a single bone in you
otherwise I would be gnawing you to pieces
a caricature of a poet, a masquerade
(read this fact in his own words)
here I toast to you
one of my masterpieces

"I bow almost to the ground, topple over on top of you"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I dedicate this poem to Percy Bisque Silley: A Romantic Dandy who accused me here, that I have forgotten to write poetry. I reproduce his words for ready reference:

Percy Bisque Silley said...

I do not count Mineself amongst thy Toadies and shall not leave the sort of vain and idle "Rah, rah!" to which you have grown accustomed, Miss.

Your words here are a poor excuse, if I may be so bold, for a Poetic Post.

No doubt you languish on a sofal watching your American football on your widescreen TV from your flat in the Bronx and cannot be bothered with a poem at this time...

With Stern Reproofly
Aloofly,
Silley

lucent pearls

a single pearl
luminous
on my skin

your skin reflects
that sheen
of my love

that love
I can't convey
in rigid words

words hinder
close my emotions
contain them in space

miniscule space
can only explode
plundering us

the very us
on its culminated wake
of lusty delight

lustrous lust
illustrates
lucent pearls of sweat

that single pearl
is but a witness
of my disintegration

me into you
a complete journey-
you into me