slowly building it up

melted snow-
footsteps
on concrete path

Inspired by tikkis.

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

footprints on snow
aliens
from outerspace?

Inspired by John McDonald

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

mysteriously
misty snow
enters into my pores

Inspired by Snow floats by Ken Wagner

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

fog rolling in
dracula's daughter
lives in sin!

Inspired by midnight fog by J. Andrew Lockhart

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

knives of icicles
cannot prick into
my sandcastle dreams

Inspired by Sandcastle dreams by Janice Thompson

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

slipped yet again
into that precipice-
saved by a log

Inspired by Rain Melts by Ken Wagner

ranting in verse

For all my esteemed and regular blogger friends, I apologise profusely for posting this rant. But I am truly sickened by someone who refuses to be shrugged off. I barely even acknowledge her. (I simply delete her comments, as I don't want her to disgrace my sacred space). Also it is due to her, I have had to resort to moderating my comments. As you know, some people just don't get the hint. I sincerely hope this will get her off my blog. FOR BETTER.

I only regret NOT writing this before now!

In this verse, I don't care about grammar, tenses and what have yous!

my best efforts are not enough
to keep you away from my blog
like a pest you persist, thick-skinned
maybe in the mind too. filled with your own
importance, you overlook your arrogance
unwanted, unloved that you are
with oodles of time in your hands
frustration is what i believe makes
you lash out other's work, lack of your
own creativity gives you a complex.
instead of creating your own space
you impinge upon others. me ignoring you
somehow gets to you. it amuses me that
you try to hit out at me on other's blog space.

"keep doing that yet, I want to see how low
you can fall, deeply buried in your own muck"

Revision Redux

Anyone else out there in the process of revisions? If so, how’s it going?

Most of my poetry is instant, written at the spur of the moment or at a whim. That means what I post here are mostly raw and/or rough drafts. Initially when I started writing, I never used to go back improving upon on what I wrote. I just left it at that. However, now I do go back, read each line, think in other directions and work on it like as if it is new. Many a times, the piece has been completely re-written, word by word, line by line.

My short stories have taken different path from what I initially wrote. I do have a start of a novel somewhere and I intend to finish it, re-read it, edit it and re-write it. Editing is all important. Only now I have come to realise that fact. Good editing can make a book and bad editing completely mars it.

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

On a completely different note, I write this here. Lately I have been writing very short verses. Mostly inspired by a few fellow bloggers who excel in it, J. Andrew Lockhart, Ken Wagner, Lorraine, Bill and Borut. Not to forget Tikkis. (Infact it was like this with him, we used to post short verses to outdo each other a long time back.) A few I post as response to their posts in the comments, which comes instantly. I have even gone back, re-written those and posted on my blog. If anyone does it on my blog, it truly does not bother me. Infact I feel good that my post inspired it. And also if anyone else also posts a creative reply as comments in others blogs, it does not distract me. I read the comments (if I do that at all) after I post mine.

How about you? Do you think instant inspiration is ok? Should I or should I not post my instant response as comments?

digging doggedly

ruthless icicles in the deep freeze
caress other water molecules
which coalesce into each other

jagged ice act like sharp knives
digging doggedly into the edges
of molten space of my silence

psychedelic colours of which can
permeate some unknown vacuum
dreams dance their way through it

each jagged step ruthlessly caress
ramifications of which i know not

zen moments

A series.....


blank paper-
words
tornadoing in

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

tornado-
swirling storm
shuts out

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

shut out-
palm open
outwards

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

outwards-
dance steps
merge

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

merge-
with you
only I

To be continued....

if only-----

If only I had time
to write a novel-
now I just write haiku

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
rabbit looks
askance-
I stop suddenly

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

tractor leaves tracks
wheat boughs sway
are they dancing?

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

cut to stump
tree sheds tears
in cold breeze

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

peanut will sprout
anywhere
it only needs a will

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

sestina-
thirty nine lines?
prefer haikuing

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

If only I had time
to read you-
now I just feel you

phantasmagoria

in the middle of a hot summer night,
moon behind the cloud sheds orange light,
dancing fireflies are in a perpetual flight

tired, harried and hungry I arrive alone,
looking for a place to rest my tired bones
midst of nowhere, I see a house of stone

eerie silence permeates the surroundings
the sudden stroke of the clock enhancing
the hush. massive clouds above roaming

like phantoms playing without any care-
within walls, shadows have stillness to share
some unknown force beckons me into that lair

out of nowhere opens up a massive door
my legs giveaway, I fall down on cold floor
all my thoughts are on my body so sore

tentacles of what I know not, hit my heart
sweepingly seeping red fluid break it apart
to carry my deathless body they need a cart