Holding on

For
http://www.poetsonthepage.blogspot.in/2013/11/mini-poetry-prompt-forever-loved.html
The way I hold on to you
my old red t-shirt
though you have faded away
to orange,
so what?
you were once red.

Twelve years is a long time
my friend
but you are still my favourite
though the way I cling to you
turns my wife jealous sometimes.

My favourite red t-shirt
now that you are rugged
and old
I keep you in my wardrobe
snuggling once in a while
keeping the old feeling alive.

This one is for my husband who still cling on to his favourite t-shirt.

emotions

For http://www.poetsonthepage.blogspot.in/2013/11/mini-poetry-prompt-going-deeper.html
Tried my hand in writing in pictorial form
http://shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/pictorial.html

anger              as             the
      rushes          my             animal
           through        heart                in
                     my             does           me
                         veins              growl        howls


                           live                  cry               forgive
                      to                     ever               to
               me                      don't            learnt
        taught                       I              have
  Life                           so                I

the deeper I go

For poetsonthepage weekly prompt Deep

In the deep
uncluttered darkness
I search for you
you, my deep dark secret
that I sometimes keep hidden
even from myself
what if the me in me betrays
as our love grows fonder
the more I try to hide
under it's skin
dark
passionately
and dangerously
our love rolls
in sheets of blood
death and life.

As we begin

OctPoWriMo Challenge 2013 Day 31.

All things that begin
must come to an end

'end' is the finale
that we all wait patiently for
till the end.


They say all good things come to end.The challenge was something I used to look forward to in between the regular office home family life. Read some wonderful poems ..came across different form of poetry, tried my hand at some. Thank you for being patient with me and my writes. Hope to see lots and lots of poem in the "The writing Poetry Group".

She

OctPoWriMo Challenge 2013 day 30

As she lay on the bed
the thought of her
previous night lover
(if only she could call him so
rather more sort of a customer)
and the remains of the night
strained her nerves
she needs a drink
she said to herself
and it is going to be
a long long day
waiting for the night to fall
another lover
or may be
the old one
who knows
she has a house to run
a child to feed
a face to paint
a lip to colour
scars to hide
a future only to dream.


Prostitution is such an age old social issue all over the world..some countries legalised it..and even have unions for them. In India the scenario is different..we fail to provide respect to these women who may run such a business due to their own necessities.

My Epitaph

OctPoWriMo Challenge 2013 Day 29

Here lies a woman
whose soul will wonder
even after death
in the misty morning of Dehra
or in the oceanic waves
a longing
a wanderlust
who always smiled
even in pain
and lived her life to the fullest.

Now That You are Away...

OctPoWriMo Challenge 2013 day 28


As I walk through park street,
near the music shop
I see the same ice cream parlour,
but I don't see you standing,
may I ask you why?

As I sit down in the coffee shop,
to sip a cup of coffee
to soothe my strainous nerve,
I look for you,
but I don't find you,
may I ask you why?

When I am at the bar,
drinking that bitter scotch
with just two cubes of ice,
remember it's your favourite,
and our old brand too,
the chair next to me is empty,
may I ask you why?

Everything is perfect
everything is fine,
everything is just the same,
but its only you
and its only I......
may I ask you why?

Life is short
they say,
and you proved it by all way,
and I just wait for my turn,
in some curious funny way.

Memories remain
and they come back often,
I love them at times
and hate them now
as you hated them often...

I don't want memories,
neither good nor bad
I just want you here my dear friend,
as you always been
forever for me,
I want things to be just the same.........

Many a people joined hands to make the person "I am" but the first person who instigated me to write poetry and form a blog was my dear friend who passed away for a better abode in heaven. Now my husband provides me the inspiration to carry on writing.Even in the hardest of times writing is the best stress buster.  But without Abhinandan I wouldn't have started and my writings would have been mere scribbles in bits of paper lying here and there.

The morning newpaper

OctPoWriMo Challenge 2013 Day 27

Early morning and a cup of tea
and usually a relaxed me
but it's not the same today
for my heart is not happy and gay
eight bomb blast in a row
my heart beat has gone slow
6 six killed
and injured more
blood shed and gore
as eyes flicker and tears roll down
they say Indian Muhajidin wears the crown.


Today's morning paper made me sad. Front page photo a wounded man(may be dead) is being taken away. Though it was yesterday's prompt, a busy Sunday had taken away my poetry time...with a much relaxed mood I thought I would write the poem today but the news just rocked me. 

Grandpa

OctPoWriMo challenge 2013 day 26

..and he walked with a stick,
and the little I held his hand tight,
all went for a walk on every evenings,
especially on Sundays
when together we went to meet his friends
in his club,
awed eyed I watched him talk,
as he played cards or carom,
he was my hero,
the smile he smiled,
the stories he told on sleepy
afternoons hot and humid,
the place he had in my heart,
the place he still has,
the time well spent,
those fond days,
me and my grandpa,
a memory so cherised,
a memory that is well kept.

I often miss my grand pa but unfortunately when he passed away he called out my name..i was not with him. It was a Christmas eve. I was out with my friends. I promised my mom that I would be there early morning next..but he passed away at 12 midnight. My father Christmas gone forever. We have stopped celebrating Christmas from that time for Christmas is never the same with out him. I miss you Grand pa..and believe me today I am really the way you want me to be..hopefully I try to be a good human being.

Celebrations

OctPoWriMo Challenge 2013 Day 25


As the night welcomes dawn
as the new day arrive
I celebrate life every day
in a new way.

A box full of Cadbury Celebrations
a mouthful of chocolates
a happy heart
and I celebrate life.


To me small things matter in life...so I wrote two short poems for the prompt today. The second one is for the kid in me

When I was eight...

OctPoWriMo Challenge 2013 Day 24

"now stop it
will you and eat your food"
my mom would usually shout at me
but I hardly used to listen until a good thrashing
"why can't you be like others
play around rather than studying all the time"
my mother complained everyday
why I can't I be like others
I said that to my self end number of times
I couldn't
I was a loner
I still am
I loved to spend time reading rather
than playing in the garden
a good book and I am in a closet.

My dad loved me the way I am
My mother loved me but complained
no body used to talk to me
still in my locality people are shy to talk
as if I would bite them

No I didn't wear geeky glasses then
nor do I wear them now
My best friend a book
and it remained so till date.

I suddenly remembered the lines my mom shouted out when I was eight or so. I hardly have other memories of myself except for my dad gifting me books or my mom shouting at me to eat. I was a good child otherwise. I hardly had friend in my school days..and even when I made friends..they were really the wrong ones..except for one or two. I surely had classmates whom I used to talk but could never connect to. I made good friends in my college days and some in the university. My closest friend passed away in 2009 and when I got married my closest buddy became my husband. This is much of a random write and whatever came to my mind I wrote without any inhibition. Thank you.

Thirteen

OctPoWriMo Challenge 2013 day 23

You are unlucky
for many precious thirteen
yet lucky for me
though poor Friday the thirteenth
makes me nervous and panic.

Thought of writing a Tanka (my first try).
The number prompt made me remember the poem"unknown citizen" by W H Auden...where the citizen was known by a number.

Caged

OctPoWriMo Challenge 2013

Look into my eyes
what do you see
can you see the burning pain
the turmoil in my heart
I am caged in my own thoughts
a certain mutiny waiting to revolt
and I want to live free
for many years I had been a slave
for many years I had been a victim to apathy
no more
no more
don't show me sympathy
Love me for my colour
love me as I am
Let me be free
Let me be free from this mutiny.

Photo by Stephen Hernandez.

I really liked today's prompt.All the photographs are mind blowing but I knew this is the picture I want to write about. The eyes just stole my heart. As if they were talking to me...as if saying " please tell my story".

Serendipity

OctPoWriMo Challenge Day 21

As your love surrenders
I walk to aisle
one step forward
to new life.

On the rocks

OctPoWriMo Challenge 2013 Day 20

Let there be ice I said,
watch my heart burn,
fill me up with yourself,
and let the night roll,
burn up my passion,
and watch the ice melt.

There's a chilliness in the air
let the waltz begin
cosy up a little
let the warmth be felt
don't move away

Stay with me longer
it's not yet time
I am on a high oh!my lover
I am on a high
just a little longer
it's still not yet time.

The night is long
and it is cold
slowly you'r sipped
slowly you go
time is moving away
and I am left behind
you are gone my lover
forever gone.


The scotch lover in me could only think of a passionate night between a glass and the drink. Cheers.

Fever and Rhyme

OctPoWriMo Challenge 2013, Day 19

Forever I am lost in rhyme
made my husband  a partner in crime,
but my mind is full of sweat and grime,
so readers please be kind,
for I have left my best long behind.


Fever has choked my thoughts,
though I want to write lots,
words come at a cost,
body ache it has brought,
everything has come to a naught.

To Write a Lousy Poem

OctPoWriMo2013 Day 18

To write a lousy poem
that's the prompt,
I laughed to myself
reading the blog content,
lousy: well most of my poems
are so,
written in a scribble form.
half of the time
words don't come,
but determined I must write,
I search for words all around,
under a blanket sometimes
in the middle of the night,
waking my husband up
shouting"eureka!"
You should watch
my husband's face then,
sometimes talking to
my pet sparrow
who just flew over
and sat on my window pane
in-case he found a word
eating from my hand
he chirps as if saying
"please give me a break."
Well me and my poetry
lurk around in wilderness
between monotonous monochromes
and happy days.

Mind games

OctPoWriMo 2013 Day 17

The games I have played
in childhood days are gone,
now Time swayed over all
I play mind games now
the better I play
The happier I am
as life moves on
time changes all.


Am high with fever..and this is just a scribble rather than a poem.

From your beloved

OctPoWriMo 2013 Day 16

In some deep thoughts

I am buried,

Is it you

That I am referring to,

Do you know

That I have an urn,

Not a beauty though,

Not anything like the Grecian urn

That Keats' spoke of,

‘beauty is truth, truth beauty’

Remember the line,

Do you remember

that my dad once gave you along lecture on that,

and how you sat dumbfounded,

knowing not the reasons,

yet, you listened,

the reason was me then,

the reason is still me now,

look how you mislead me,

that’s the charm you still have on me,

I was speaking of my urn,

You know I keep all my sorrows and pains there,

The pains that you once gave me,

The sorrows that I secretly hold it to myself,

Now you know

Why the urn is not a beauty,

Though it’s intricately carved with gold,

The base colour is pink you know,

Yes pink: you heard me right,

My favourite colour,

Do you remember the pink shawl

that you gave it to me on my birthday,

The one that got lost,

Do you remember,

Do you remember anything at all,

Anything about us,

Anything about me,

The urn,

the urn has it all,

I have kept everything in it,

My pains and sorrows,

No, I have nothing else to give you ,

You have had my shares of pleasure,

Now have my share of pain and sorrows too,

……from you beloved

And thank you.

This is just a imaginary writing..having no link to my personal life.

Phailin(The cyclone)

OctPoWriMo 2013 day 15


The wind rushed through the leaves
at 240 kilometers per hour speed,
the trees jostled
electric poles fell,
the river grew bigger
and bigger as it rained.

landslides on the national highway
Mother nature moves
in her own way,
all came to a halt,
as if life was to stop
Spectators we
who lived far away
merely watched
the wrath of the storm
safe in our abode
glued to the television set.


As news rolled in
we watched how
lives were at stake
though moved to a safer place
the government is trying it's best.
to provide food, water
and shelter to all.

Houses are gone
cattle dead
people lost a lot
at least lives were saved.

Silence

OctPoWriMo2013 Day 14

When there is too much
to say
silence is the key
keep quiet
and listen to it's beats
do you hear it
Don't
then they are too loud
for silence.

Saying Goodbye.

OctPoWriMo 2013, Day 13

Sad songs
play behind
serene faces of all
saying goodbye is hard
searching faces as tears roll down.
sweet memories to look back
Come again Mother,
Come again with blessings.

Here Mother means goddess Durga, after staying five days with us she will now return to the Kailash Mountains along with children to her husband lord Shiva. These five days which she stays with us is celebrated by Bengalis. The fifth day is the last day Mother stays with us and we are sad that she will be leaving us only to return after a year and so this poem.

The shadows of time.

OctPoWriMo 2013 Day 12.


The shadows of time
follow me
and I look back
to the times gone,
searching for those
unknown faces
in the known lands.

The shadows of memories
gone by wither me
and I shrink,
but all is not sad
for happy moments
cross by.

The shadows of mine
I look into the mirror
and talk to myself
touching the fine lines
on my face
reminiscing the times
long gone by.

The shadows of future
try to forlorn
but I look into it
with bright eyes.

Sounds

OctPoWriMo 2013 day 11


The trinkling of window chimes,
the rickshaw puller's horns,
with the cries of the woman
who sells fish,
I wake up from bed.

The mild roars
of the passing clouds,
the hustling of the wind,
My sunken heart misses a beat
It is going to rain.

The chanting of the priest
in the nearing pandal,
the rhythmic sound
heard through the mike,
the lovely scent of the incense
my senses wide awake.

The rolls of laughter
of the children,
the giggle of the teenage girls,
the shout like calls of the
volunteers,
the sound of the conch shell.

and I smile
as i feel the happiness
all around.


Pandal is a place erected in an open space where Goddess Durga is worshiped for five days.

Rain

OctPoWriMo 2013 Day 10

A poetry collage...I really like the prompt but lack of time stops me to indulge. Found a small but lovely by Pratibha Sofat.http://ladynimue.wordpress.com/2013/06/25/rains-4/, and wrote something with it.
Pratibha's poem:


the rainy season
a paper lantern in hand
I walk along the verandah

insects hold class in music,
i pause in my tracks to feel.

I want to give rains a miss now. Need to go Pandal Hopping and it is just the second day of the festival(Durga Puja) and there is news of a cyclone..so am sad..for the rains are going to spoil the whole plans for the next 3 days.
My Poem:


Rains
My heart skips a beat
and my feet dances
to the tune.

Rains
now a hindrance,
for I need to celebrate.

To write a lyric.

OctPoWriMo 2013 Day 9

Before I post today's post I would like to say that it is festival time is Kolkata(India) and we here are celebrating the arrival of Goddess Durga. Goddess Durga arrives at this time of the year every year along with her children from the kailash mountains and as we consider her to be a mother of all human being, we pray to her her as she arrives. So Kolkata in in the festival mood and as a Kolkatan I am flowing wit the flow. Now let me come to the poem..due to lack of time I couldn't write much but only this small poem:

The prompt is to write 

a lyric

all I can remember are 

limerick(s).

My wind wonder(s)

sometimes wait 

to ponder

if it can catch

a bait.

No hope till now

don't know

what to write

and how?

A busy day

thoughts do provoke

but laziness languor

all the way.

Love is this..love is that

OctPoWriMo 2013 Day 8

Love is like
the monsoon breeze
that blows
after hot summer days,
love is
the tranquil
when we meditate.

Love is
wandering into wilderness,
love is
walking in the sunset.

love is lot
like having a
blueberry cheesecake
when you are on a diet
and the mixture of happiness
and guilt.

Love is
tucking up together
under a blanket
on a cold night
in Dehra by the fire place,
heating up with passion
under the dim blue light.

Love is holding your
child for the first time,
love is living
your life to the fullest.

In the words of Paulo Ceolho"The wise are wise only because they love/the fools are fools only because they think they understand love. I don't know whether I am wise..all I know I am definitely not a fool. For me love is like many things from reading a book or secretly gorging into some chocolate. I tried to give away my thinking to today's prompt.

The Story Of a Leaf

OctPoWriMo 2013 Day 7.

I am a dead leaf
A part of the humus now,
Once I was a blooming bud,
Awaiting to be fully grown,
And I started my journey
In this unknown world
as other leaves would do.

With each passing day
I grew
Till one day
I was a big leaf
And like every other leaf
Of the banyan tree
I was given the task
Of food processing.

From morning till
The afternoon
I cooked food,
Night was the only time
I was allowed to rest,
and that part of the day
I did love best.

It was that time
what I called was mine,
And then I talked to
my fellows leaves,
about our lives.

On some days
I listened quietly
To the birds
Who built their nest
On the branches,
Feeding on the fruits
Of the banyan tree,
They talked on various things,
From work to gossips,
And listening to their talks
I dozed off to a deep sleep.

Sometimes,
I watched weary travelers,
Sitting under the tree
Taking rest,
and talking among themselves
of love, life and beyond.


Then one day came the stormy night,
Along with thunder and lightning
Came the rain,
Thunder struck the banyan tree,
Uprooted from the soil
It fell on its face,
And I tore off from my branch
Along my fellow beings
And drifted with the wind
Then I fell on the nearby stream.

For days I floated in the water,
Until one day I reached the shore,
But by that time,
Parts of me was rotten,
And I knew it was time
To go.

Now I am a part of the humus,
And on me new plants grow,
But I wish
Sometimes I lived,
And could watch
my grand children grow.


Today's OctPowriMo's Prompt is to write a narrative poem..and guess what am very happy about the prompt. I have always loved narrative poems and some of my favorite narrative poems are of Robert Browning like"My Last Duchess" or Phophyria's Lover" and many more. So here I am contributing a little part in writing a narrative poem. Hope you all like it.

The much awaited meet

OctPoWriMo2013 Day 6.


Do you hear my heart beat?
Doesn't it run very fast,
there are butterflies in my stomach,
flying around
sometimes giving me a start.

I look myself into the mirror,
asking do I look all right,
will you be happy to see me,
after such a long time.

Months that you have
been away,
seemed years sometime,
I waited patiently for this day
now anxious
that I may cry.

I know I have spoken to you
everyday,
and Skyped on weekends too
but now you will be here for real
I just can't wait to hold you.

The narcissist in me.

OctPoWriMo2013 Day 5 Poem

To some
I am the woman of desire,
to some
I am the best of friend,
to some
I am the haughty creature,
but to me
I am just myself.

To some
I may mean the world,
to some
I am ignorant of consequences
of the things I say,
To some
I am just an ordinary girl,
but to me
I am what I am,
Just myself.

To you
I am a lover,
To him/her
I may be a mother someday,
To them
I am a confidante,
But to me
I am just myself.

I am a simpleton I believe
who lives life on my own terms,
Love me as I am,
or hate me
for my charm.


Today I myself had a to do to list for the day which kept me busy. It's festival time in Kolkata ( a metropolitan city in India : for my foreign readers) and so had to visit relatives to give away their gifts for the festival. However, the prompt of the day was back of mind always. All I wanted to do was rush back home and write down a poem. May a thoughts came into my mind  and I kept on pestering my husband to give me ideas. At last he came up with this funny poem..couldn't help sharing.
Here it goes:
What's with the list
let me tell you the gist,
I am a woman who kissed,
A man with an iron fist
But then there was something
I missed
Therefore, in the end I wished,
I shouldn't have kissed
The man with an iron fist.

Happy reading.

Be the gentler mind

OctoPoWriMo 2013 Day 4

At times am so hard on me,
aspirations and ambitions
always on the mind,
and
achievements counts
many a times
I have told that to myself.
At times
I take insults so much
to my heart that
in anger I cry.

At times
am so harsh to you all
being my parents,husband
and friend is not
easy at all I know
but
you usually keep quiet
and love me as I am.

Have I forgotten
to be gentle
to myself,
to let go of things,
to breathe in peace,
rather than rush into things.

Have I forgotten to live
a life as it is.
Whatever
It is time
to be gentle
to you
to me
to poetry
and let it flow freely.

"Flash!" and it appeared.

OctPoWriMo 2013 Day 3


...and it suddenly appeared
one day,
just like a blob of cloud
in the pristine blue sky,
what made me write it
I still don't know why
and how?

may be it was the
jilted heart,
or the owlish moments,
or the passing thought
of a romantic,
I scribbled down
my first poetry,
at the mid hours
of a night.

Fond of Keats and Browning
as a child,
and the Lucy poems
above all,
but hated Frost,
the curves and turns
of his poems
made me nervous and cry,
the annotations,
the explanations
made me sigh.

never did I think I will write
but whatever it is
today I am proud
My first poem was
" A blob of Cloud".


Though I hated Robert Frost's poem as a child, later on" The road not taken" became one of my favourite poems.

Hiding from the storm

OctPoWriMo Day 2 poem


Angry I left my home
never to return again,
grumbling and growling,
I walked a mile
thinking life with you
is nothing but futile.

Then the wind sighed,
the lightning flashed,
the thunder boomed,
I shivered and looked around,
I heard a creak and a groan
and a crash nearby.

Hide and seek I played
with the icy drops of rain,
looked I here and there
but all went in vain,
a single shed nor shelter
presented itself on my way.

Then I saw you coming from afar
and my anger did melt,
amidst both these storms,
I sobbed a happy smile,
there's no better hiding place
than your loving embrace.

Autumn (Day One post for OctpoWriMo2013)

...and I wandered aimlessly

crunching the leaves that fell,

as if they were tears

the trees shed in grief for me,

my heart: lonely

longing for you, 

the chilly air

binds,

as I cover myself

with a shawl.

I remembered the moments 

we walked together,

on such lazy afternoons,

you holding my hand,

and

my palm looked so small

to you big one.

You telling me stories of wonder land

of birds, beasts and princesses

and how they were saved by 

their princes in armour.

Big eyed I dreamt one day

my prince would come

and imagined myself in distress

and when I told you about it 

you just laughed away.

Now I am in the autumn of my life

as you were then

I miss you 

for times have changed

but one thing remained as it is

Today I tell stories to my grandchildren

the ones you told me 

when I was a little child.

Home alone and the clouds roared

and it rained and rained
and the clouds roared
with a cracking voice
somewhere afar a glass window shrieked
and I sat on the corner of my bed
covered with a cover
sometimes peeping through
home alone
and scared
my pet sparrow chirped a little 
may be to say
am not the only one
together we waited for the
angry clouds to calm down
the rain has soothed the hot sun a little.

helpless

I know you are seeing 

from wherever you are
the face of the demons 
that brutally killed you
I know how your soul is tortured
and the pain you have on your face
they said as he is a juvenile 
he couldn't be given any severe punishment
and three years is all he gets
in a remand home
and then free forever
and then one day he may boast
of the heinous crime he did
how are you feeling Nirbhaya 
are you battered once again? 
are you being killed timelessly again and again?
Don't know about that
but you are definitely beaten to death once again.

Longing

the longing crept in slowly
the passion was foretold
the yearning unbearable
the stars bore witness
the moon saw her pain
she roamed aimlessly on the river bed
sometimes touching the water
to cool herself
sometimes she read aloud love poems
sometimes her favourite companion was the radio
she cursed herself for her desires
for her pains
only if he did know...

Sometimes

The plate that served the "tikkis" broke into 
exactly three pieces,
the scotch glass cracked suddenly,
was the heat too much to bear,
our lips touched only to part
as if we were shaken by an earthquake,
the salt like taste of your lips
stayed left a mark
as your hands strolled along the curves 
and stopped as our eyes met.

The cloudy sky rumbled,
a thunder was heard somewhere,
but it didn't rain
as we stood motionless for a while
and then moved away
with a weak smile.

Passion

I met you once in a bus stop

and for a moment I was lost

they said eyes could kill

oh! I believe in it now

such soulful eyes

such depth

did I find a hint of passion 

or was I wrong

I thought they were yearning

a moment passed 

or a decade

then came the climax

you got off the bus

and I was left wondering

was it love at first sight

or a little lusty passion played.