Tag Archives: 3WW

Missing the “Drone”

by

the only drone floats
along the debris of aircraft
memories held safe

She felt odd she had argued with Zen. If his loud grunt could be considered that, she smiled. He was a creature of less words and more drama. And just like that , today morning he said it was the day to orbit the aircraft. No amount of ass-licking [ he loved this word and used it often on her ] would make him abort his trip, he had declared.

And now , barely 3 hours later , she knew something was not right with him. She hated to send him alone out there in space but then, drones are meant to be alone. She squinted at the screen to see any sign of his return but knew he would not return unless his mission for the day was fulfilled. Stupid programming, she cursed aloud and went to drink the night away.
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Inspired by the theme at 3ww and  : 

Stones from day 5-8/365

by

the vacant plot
of yellow grass,
once dead tired
of loneliness;
now sings aloud
of tiny pair of feet
rushing to swings -
new year gift to park.

cleanliness
next to godliness,
she learned as a child;
and so she feeds
to the ants at her door,
daily sugar and rice.

he focused hard
on the steaming cup
of over sweet tea
paid by a stranger,
overlooking the dog
that shared his meal
without invitation.

each day presented
a new trouble in life,
nothing could he hold
except her love filled time,
neither money nor family
understood his needs,
yet life moved on,
her words guide his feet.

 

Every moment has a “WOW” factor, If only you observe and appreciate.

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Also linked to 3WW , Imaginary Garden with real toads , Theme Thursday

100% Sure ? ( PAD#4 #napowrimo 5)

by

complaints growl in the head
as the probability games unfold;
“he loves me-he loves me not”
love after all is a hyped emotion,
I say to my words and smile
“for this moment,he is just mine”
I need no justification from him
neither would I voice my doubt
“to be happy now,love is all about?”

 

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PAD#4 : take the phrase, “100% (blank);” replace the blank with a new word or phrase; make the new phrase the title of your poem

3WW ( growl , hype , justify )

I saw them

by

Source : Trainstation by No Life Before Coffee (via Flickr stream)

I see her standing at the platform, half hidden by the corner pillar; her left foot tapping to the song playing on her Ipod, looking nowhere in particular but everywhere. For a moment, our eyes meet and we smile. she turns her look away almost immediately as if hiding from me as I keep staring at her elegant and almost attractive features. Noticing all possible visual details about her, I try hard to remember her but in vain. Every name that pops in ym head is negated by the playful smile she has on her face as if enjoying the trouble she has given me. She once more looks at me from corner of her eye and looks at the incoming train for an excuse to look elsewhere.

He comes out of the train and as if she was already aware , she picks her stuff and hurries to meet him. Taking him in her arms she beams like a child who has got an extra candy during lunch time. she whispers in his ear and he looks at me with one of the most heart breaking smile. And that’s when I know who she is. I used to be her some years back ; She used to be me that time. My future baffled at my present ; My present hiding from the future ME.

I see them walk past me with a knowing smile. I miss those days. I miss him. I miss myself. Andhere I stand , awaiting for another chance perhaps.

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Prompted @ Sunday Picture Press , Inspiration Monday , 3WW

For lonely hearts

by

Every heart is a room. with secret corners , sunny windows and some windows shut close. Trivial whispers circulate the room all day and more in night. this room has no walls though. you make one whenever and wherever you want. You let few people in, keep some out, throw some out after some time, and some you keep missing even after they walk out. and once in a while some one lets you in their space. A space you were never willing to enter, let alone stay. Gradually, you make it a second home. with a feeling that you belong there, with a wish to forever belong there, you keep unpacking baggage one stuff at a time each day , and packing it all a bit too many times. You dream of being asked to forever stay there, of making a passage from your heart to this – once and for all. Even a minuscule chance at such life keeps you smiling for hours. And then one day …. who knows where it will lead you …

sad that autumn comes
once the spring and summers pass
her loneliness stays.

A dream ?

by

Her flesh turned colors
from deep red to pale green
like the devil he dreamt of
each night of the last week.

with razor sharp nails,
she tore his heart aside
leaving a pool of blood
crawling around like reptiles.

Next she plucked his soul
that lie hidden in his eyes
and when she was done,
she hypnotically collapsed…

It was a dream he thought
when his hysteria woke him,
to find a green face in the mirror
and her heart, like resin, burning .

 

–

Blame watching “supernaturals” these days, for this poem :D

Linked to 3ww and Monday Melting

and they talked (Story part 2)

by

Story Part 1 here

—
He moved a bit from his place behind the tree, enough to let the moon robe him in a silver light. his bald head shone a special glow, and that made her smile. He looked charming even without his smile. The smile actually, she remembered from her reading of the chairs, made him look dangerous. But her instincts told her, he himself was not aware of that effect. He wore a black long coat held in place with a silver chain looped around a single huge button in the shape of crescent moon.The trousers , of the shade blue of the sky, shimmered under the moon light. He wore no shoes. And that seemed odd to her, since she herself was standing bare foot.

He followed her gaze towards his feet and whispered, “I am not sure why I did not want to wear my shoes when I started from home.” She dropped in the nearest chair and looking at a distance far away, said ,”The energy of this place feeds your thoughts. Its easiest to absorb it through skin of the feet since it stays hidden from external touch most times” Saying so, she dug her feet deeper into the soft soil. He could see she liked that. She nodded her head once as if replying to an invisible person and then looked expectingly to him

“What I do not yet understand is, how could I hear your call ? I was not even dreaming.”

“Neither was I. I was thinking about you.”

“Do you know me?”, she asked abruptly.

“I read about you in the morning. About your act.”

“My act. So you are not sure if i can really read from the object , about the person who last touched it ?” , she asked passivley,clearly she was used to this skepticism.

“I am not sure. not unless I verify it.”

“What else did you see, when you called me?”

“I did not call you, I said.” , he replied with a hint of irritation in his voice.

“You did. I do not create my dreams unless some one calls me from their dreams”, she said looking a bit nervous. “you have to remember what you want me to read for you, before its morning. I can not stay after sunrise.Mind games are bit different on other side of night”

“I thought of you as a queen standing below a palace of purple bricks and a pink flag on the corner post”

“I hate pink!” she turned her face in disgust , as if she had not heard any other part of the statement.

“And you did not think that, you dreamed that !” , she said with a finality in her voice, even if it was barely abouve whisper.

 —

(to be continued)

also linked to 3WW , Inspiration Monday

Had heart been silent

by

Heart should have remained
silent when you had asked
if i ever loved,
had i not wished
an affirmative answer,
and you perhaps otherwise,
we would not be where we stand
loved, hurt and inclined to part
not by choice
or force of time
but still at crossroads
facing away
and heading out,
alone but not lonely
with tears but of memories,
pricked by figments of the silence
that would have saved
this vulnerable soul
from hardening thus.

–

Originally written in response to this poem, edited and submitted for 3ww

also linked to Poetry Tow Truck

I surrender

by

tentatively
your dreams approach me,
as i begin to relax in mine;
breaching my privacy,
baring my soul naked,
they tease my senses,
arouse my desire
untill i whisper
your name between sobs
of guilty pleasure,
like embers of my flesh
aglow in your gaze,
I surrender to you,
your need of me,
and mine of you …

 

–

Prompted @ 3WW

Write-less-ness

by

Each day I wake up,
with a hope to have time
some minutes to myself
to create few lines…

Muted thoughts struggle
to force themselves on me
and finally get a voice
that liked to be free…

blank sheet of papers gawk
and gasp as i pretend to ignore
the desires of a busy mind
screaming for scribbles and scrawls..

Bridge-d talks

by

Breaking the silence of the deserted park, she heard her cell vibrate. A message from him – “Can I get MY Khushi* back?”
She smiled, the first thought being,he finally saw that she has changed.At the same time,she was troubled with the emphasis on “my”. She knew she could not ignore the message, neither was she in the mood to reply yet. She looked down from where she stood, in the center of the bridge.she loved the reflection, the semi arc in and out of water, completing a whole circle. She called it the eye to her heart and soul. Standing on the bridge, she always thought there was another Khushi inside the pond. The one who was just like her but a bit stronger at times.If she was the body and mind, the one in the pond was her heart and soul.She smiled at her own reflection , her soul part and typed the reply, “We both knew the rules.With time, the rules had to change.We knew that too, right ?”

A leaf fluttered from the nearest branch and fell into the pond, disturbing her reflection, like the trouble waves in her heart.
Almost same time, she got another message, “I do not know what to say. Did i offend you or something ?”

It was time she faced her reality. She braced herself against the cold air as she sat down on the bridge, her back against the sun kissed railing, and typed :
“No, its not what you said or what you did not say. Talks of my wedding are going on at home. And with that hunt, the tension is high around me. I just can not concentrate on others right now. Better be left alone.”
A minute passed before the cell buzzed again, “You can not tell me who I should leave alone and when”
He was impossible, she knew, “Neither I intend to do that. I just need to sort my life at this moment, get into the routine of meeting strangers , weighing the pros and cons of any proposal based on I don’t know what, be prepare to be misunderstood at times and still deal with being rejected ’cause I lack the beauty and poise of a lady [ according to my relatives] and when I finally get married,  maybe then, I can try being the one you liked.”
she felt anger pierce the calmness she came for, to this place.
“But you will not be mine, any more.”
“You friend will still be yours.”, she typed, not knowing where that conviction appeared from.
“I shall wait to have her back, then.”
“Ok.”
“You could have told me all this before.”

“I know”, she typed but then deleted it. She never was going to tell him any of this. She could not tell it to any person who knew her better than this guy. She stood up straight, done with the weekly dose of contemplation, aided today by his questions. Determined to make the best out of her days, and to not let these feelings come to surface again, she finally inhaled in the beauty and stillness of being in that moment at that lovely place..

With a smile, she wave good bye to her reflection and walked towards home.She had to make true of her name.
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*Khushi is one of my favorite names. It means joy/happiness.

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Prompted @ 3WW , Sunday Picture Press , Inspiration Monday

Submitted also to Theme Thursday

The golden tree

by

He knew it was not just a dream. He tried hard but could not shake the feeling, he was being called to trace his destiny. And he heeded to the call of his heart. Weeks of walking through strange lands with uncomprehensiblee forces guiding his, he finally stood in front of the tree – tired and excited both. But when he actually saw it, he could not believe his own eyes – colors dripping from each branch, each leaf , golden flowers falling in spirals all around. he felt like a misfit there in his dirty brown coat and yellow umbrella. He fumbled a bit with the umbrella before closing it and stretching his hands into the waters that poured just over the tree. He knew his life would cease behind the curtain of color drops.with a glance at the surroundings, he finally stepped inside the tree’s shade. the faint golden glow of the flowers gave it a mystical look.

And then he noticed him, an old man scribbling away in deep thought on what looked liked tiny roll of translucent paper. without looking at the visitor, the old man ordered him to collect the inked rolls and load into dream wagon,whatever it meant.He followed the orders as if he had been doing that all his life,and waited for the next order.He belonged here – in this lost world of peace and words.He could hear the echoes of unknown voices around him – the banter , the disappointments , the smiling words , the sarcastic ones of skepticism. Hours passed like this , he rooted to same spot, hearing those voices and being a part of the emotions.

Finally the old man got up from his desk, and looked at him with interest. “You are still here! i see. You will stay,the place has made you its own”, Saying this, he came forward and handed the silver pen in his hands. He sat down at the same desk like the old man , looked at him once with a dazed look, gave a farewell salute and started filling the “fortune less” fortune cookies with his ideas. The old man faded. Life began anew at the tree of fate.

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Prompted @ Indigo Spiders , Inspiration Monday , 3ww