destined destination

I sit by the side of that highway
in a gloomy, dark day
an occasional car passes by
a few stop too,
going their way on my un-response
what I doing on that lonely road-
I see questions in their stance
yet I sit there, unmindful
I look at that orange tree
which is some way from where I am
in that drab day
it seems to be the only bright thing
but I know I will get what I seek
when it gets dark,
I know night is not far away
when trucks start arriving,
it gladdens me much.
you are still driving one out there,
it has been years
but you will know me from far
this is where we first met

"truck is a journey, trucker is its pivot, I am the destination"

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

I wrote a series of trucker poems, the one before this was written one year ago. This one is a continuation. I have always wanted to go back. Do read those too along with this. All are stand alone, yet connected.

I write footnotes here...

by riverside I sat with closed eyes

he was reading out to me

what he uttered barely registered

his voice flowed mellifluously

that was my anchor against stillness-

a stillness which frightened me

I felt his chin touch my shoulder

I turned towards him

when I opened my eyes

I saw the invisible abundance,

smelled the intersected air between us

"feet by feet, why do we have to measure distance?

curtain of pebbled path

in the shredded papers
plausible reason
churns willingly
silence shadows it

a curtain of pebbled path
leads me to the beach
seashells contain the ocean
in my palm I hold one

links of time taint it
shard of glass
tells me a story
a past, or a future

"matter mixes with surreal to make sense"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

55 words.Exactly 55 words. For more in 55 words, click on G-Man! You too can join in the fun! 

musical whirlwind

she, whosoever she may be,
has raised the fire,
called the whirlwind.
yet he remained still,
standing, filling his spirit
with deep silence to absorb the sound.
here was a decision of some weight
it pumped his lungs
and burst forth into his eyes,
it set his head aflame with light
and seethed into the outer air.
she reached for it,
and her hand slithered across the matted wet fur robe
lying upon his still body

"musician, are you?" he finally grunted.

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

This is a found poem. In the literal sense. The sentences have been taken randomly from Magical Tales by R. J. Stewart. You can read the full sentences which end in fullstops.

a wheel barrow

I hold hands
we turn into a wheel
its like carrying a cart

a person has to unload it
the search for a place
becomes a project

that number on the wall
who will carry that?

regressive progress

progress gets regressed
but I digress
not one iota from pages
I could decipher.
writing with invisible ink
you coded it too
much precautions
totally useless

under the shadow of a pine tree

she plants love
waits for the roots to go deep down
when a bud shoots up
she searches for more

she digs deeper
finds her crumpled up list.
of resolutions that she had made long time ago
she can't talk much.

tiny leaves from that seeds of love
might right her flawed patience
she appears calmed on the surface
but a typhoon goes on and on

under the shadow of a pine tree, 
her love can be nurtured
with an embrace painted with feeling
while she watches her transient feet

"winds cannot blow anything away if roots are firm"

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

Wish you all a very Happy New Year. May your muse be always kind and let your words flow and spill over!!