cross it off
I say in whispers,
But I know the voice isn’t mine;
HE smiles on me
And in my smiles he stays,
He made me for a reason,
And the reason I know now,
Is to make love happen,
And tell the world
Love lives. Right here.
Within our hands ,
And hearts that beat
Together.
so I crossed it off
All doubts from head
And instead,now my
Instincts lead
Hold me tight,
Etch with your fingers
A verse of our love,
Real like the passionate kisses,
Tall like the moments without it.
… and I promise to read them
back to your skin,
as eagerly as
you would,
Illuminated
by the spark in
your eyes,a fire that
consumes me,every time
you even whisper my name.
–
some people lack
charisma-
and that’s their super power;
to hide in plain sight,
to blend in a crowd,
to be a stranger all life,
even to ones who see them
every passing day -
These are the people
I sometimes wish to be -
some days I so badly need
this immunity from the world
of known faces , known feelings,
of advertised smiles
and so much shared pains.
==
Written for OSI , sunday scribblings
There was a time, I could have said I have no home – my parents own one and that’s a place I would be welcome always. I live is a cozy room with one of the sweetest soul I know and that’s a place I forever want to return each day – to the same bed , books , that make shift kitchen , those welcome smiles of my friend and our shared space. I feel grounded when am in there – just myself. The honest , open and enlightened. But love has gone some where else. There is a place I have started feeling homely even when I have never been there. A small bed facing the tv , a computer and book rack nearby , a huge window that opens to a view of a lovely tree that’s home to many birds. pets running around the bed in circles , trying to reach me as smell of tea and fresh cookies fill the air. That’s a home I dream of. That’s the home I want. To paint the walls with our smiles and to fill it with colors of our togetherness. Where each season is welcomed alike and celebrated with music and words.
That’s a home I want for myself.
That’s a heaven I will make my own.
Some day , I hope.
“I will always be with you” , It was a promise they had both made. She skimmed through the pages of her diary , trying to read through her flood of thoughts, finding it hard to imagine, she missed the signs in plain sight. Tears fell on the pink pages, turning them a shade darker yet the ink stayed. Her frail body swayed with each sob yet she kept looking at the cellphone screen, expecting any text or call from him. She expected his scent to fill the doorway any moment, but he did not come or call.
“I will always be with you” , It was a promise they had both made and yet she had strayed. She did not deserve being forgiven, yet she hoped he would understand. Just once, she cried, just once.
==
Linked to sunday Scribbling , Sunday Whirl , Two shoes Tuesday
It was the generic fun activity for baby#1.
To fall sideways and try to bounce back.
Baby#2 was the serious type.
He silently prayed that baby#1 never forgets which side to fall.
==
Prompted @ Succinctly Yours (Image + “generic”) , Sunday Scribbling ( silence)
Within the bounds of thoughts,
we wish at times we could write,
as powerful as we think,
the threads of dreams,
in and out of my mind,
something tangible yet lost.
When sleep won over,
i risked the words last night,
losing them within myself,
finally forgetting,
unable to even trace,
as musch as i try.
Someday it will return from the wild origins,
someday those words will flow again,
someday…
Venus and The Sailor, 1925, by Salvador Dali
A little while,
more my love,
he whispers in my dreams
A little while
is all I need,
before this dreams cease to be;
A little while
you must wait
his unhurried touch speaks
a little while
is all I have
to let you know how I feel;
a little while
I understand
I have to make myself believe
Many of these
little while
is what life turns out to be.
Prompted @ The Mag , Carry on Tuesday , Sunday Scribblings
Source : Imgfave.com
I dream of walking on a beach,
hand in hands with you,
picking shells at random,
watching their design blend
in the sand that sinks
beneath our feet,
aware of your sweet scent,
and your breath on my skin,
I walk into the water,
yet i feel the flames
in each glance you throw;
we devise new ways
to play same tricks together
giggles for kisses,
smiles for hugs,
brushing fingers
as we part …
each tomorrow richer,
each yesterday a lesson;
you lead me into love
and into passion you draw me;
flexibly bending my doubts
and turning into a wealth
i feel I own,being with you.
–
Prompted @ OSI , sunday scribblings , Sunday whirl
There in one corner,
lie some of my dreams
termed part crazy or
impossible,
by everyone but me.
I treat them with care,
and hope some day
I will make happen,
just one, any one,
if not all of the
rejected dreams.
Hello visitors,
this you know is my dream;
a place I hope you know the limits
and the rules; yet unknown to me.
you show me places and events
that happened not,or maybe could have
some I wish never come true
others I feel I knew before you.
My mind’s state reflected often
my dreams I feel are powerful potion
made of your power of love
fighting my desperation for some.
–
Prompted @ sunday Scribblings (Reflect)
Napowrimo#2 : Write a poem inspired by the song that was #1 on the day that you were born. Find it via this page . Mine was - The Power Of Love – Jennifer Rush
Apr PAD#2 : write a visitor poem
Photo Copyright: James Rainsford. Used with Permission.
The only name he smiled at,
the only eyes he looked for,
the very smile to flatter him,
the only girl he wished to live for -
today she remains in heart and mind,
a memory of a long-lost time.
From everything to some one special,
the transition happened without cause;
the face was never captured in photo,
it was meant to stay as a muse unknown.
–
Prompted @ Dverse Poetics (Image ) , OSI (transition ) , Sunday Scribblings ( whats the rest of the story )
today i wanted to be a wave. The one passing through loved souls, leaving colors behind. And now i wonder if those colors take something away from me or the soul ? Will the wave havd a mind or heart ? Both ? Or none ? Where will the search of home lead this wave ? Will it ever rest or like me stay active at odd hours feeding on darkness within my heart. Where do waves rest ? Or souls like mine ? Do they just stop feeling, lose colors, fade ? Will i . . Well lets leave some questions unsaid. .
–
Linked to Sunday Scribblings – Search
source : imgfave.com
Words, feelings and pauses,
she knew her stance with him,
she saw not where his lines were
but she did fit her cursive style well.
The spaces felt redundant often,
fingers wrote what ink failed,
envelop of hugs carried letters
of dreams shared never before.
Not like the detailed paintings
they created in the past – but
overlapping lines of modern art,
they merged in colors and tones
whispered in the clear cuts
and slept within the blurred
boundaries.the painting had a life.
People do not make tribes,
it happens on its own accord;
but each tribe does have a soul
a music, a breath,a life,
an identity that’s just its own.
Tribes do not produce people
they are accumulated over time;
but each tribe gives itself a leader
a voice, a face,a name,
a place to leave its mark in life.
Some one asked me to imagine being on a star and be able to see all and everything in the universe. Not the inhabitants, but everything else. No one asks such questions these days, not since some one last asked me, where would i want to visit in my dreams. So I was out of practice when this question was asked. I replied, I want a sparkling neat and calm river, trees of coolest shades, grass of softest green and flowers of all shades, and ofcourse night time to last always. Darkness studded with golden lights and filled with air that shimmers as I move. A lovely corner set up with books and chairs for myself to spend my time.
And I deliberately skipped having a small lake with rocks beside it. I thought of having not to live alone but with some one who loved me, but did not say. I wanted to have a kitchen to myself and all fresh vegetables to cook each night, but I knew I would not like that alone. I wanted to have a velvet bedspread to lie down next to you and make images from the stars. I would love to have a glass dining table with just two chairs. I want pen and papers abound to scribble such fairy tales together and leave them for the winds to carry to far off places. I did not say all these, for I was scared to want more than I deserved. Even in my dreams.
Dreaming all that felt so normal. More than I knew. Maybe it was ’cause you only asked me this question, Something normal people do not !
Jan 1 :
Its freezing cold outside , and yet when I look at the kid smiling at me, I feel warm inside.
Jan 2:
Resolutions , new or old
break not from you forgetting them
but ignoring them instead.
–
Written for River of Stones , Sunday Scribblings
It was the color of purple,
the one of not so fresh bruises,
that happen to be alive
not by luck,but by citizens
of this world we call earth,
the ones whose mental health
lie in the states of breakdown.
With such inkpot,on my tender skin
was a story of troubles written,
even dreams lagged behind life
caught in some random year,
letting past fly ahead of future.
a game I let too long to be played,
which ended when you came
armed with smiles and goodwill.
no nightmare has ever stayed,
no hope been left uncalled
no fear other than losing you
and no pleasure bigger than you…
This post is a dedication to my friend, my soul sister, my love !
(You know it darling :*)
–
Also linked to Sunday Whirl , Sunday Scribbling , OSI ,
Tumbling into your arms,
restless emotions released,
with rapid falling tears
spasms of rare gratitude
hit me like pulsations
of your passion into me,
elements of my existence
fused into weightlessness
in a glass furnace,spacious
enough to hold your energy
till we get a grip on reality
laughing on the enigma of love
–
Prompted @ Wordle here , OSI , Sunday Scribbling
Together one evening
with friends and family,
Sapid with joys and celebrations,
the air full of sacred blessings,
the pious flames dancing,
heart , head and soul
ready for the new life’s calling,
her shy smiles fail to hide
the beat of her love filled heart,
your caring hold on her hands
as you make promises to be there
in times to come, good or bad.
Jan 2012. The darkness of winters will be challenged by the warm smiles and lights in that corner of my town. My best friend will hold the hands of his love and lead the way into a new life. This time, I would be there, along with other friends – a bunch of people knowing each other from school , waving in and out of each other’s life and yet never far from heart and mind.
Yay ! Next month is my best friend’s wedding. And after missing almost every one’s wedding for one reason or another, I will be attending this one. Am so excited to meet all friends and some of their partners too ! And to dress up and go have a dance on the floor !
January , you look promising my love.
—
Written for Months of the year challenge#2 , Carry on tuesday , Sunday Scribblings , OSI
Lets put to vote,
to say or not,
what wrong goes
creating my woes..
Lets seek a council
i be the pupil
and you my guide
lets begin the ride..
Hands follow trail
of desires so frail
yet lips know to seal
as passion heals..
you and me
not meant to be
yet some how we are
so near, so far …
Prompted @ Magpie Tales (image) , Sunday Scribblings , OSI
One after another,
each hopping over other,
images fall from my eyes,
into the cold lap of loss,
where once you rested
your weary head,
today it can’t wait
to bid you, a farewell …
Omen of days to come
overlap the shadows of past.
Prompted @ Sunday Scribblings (Omen) and November PAD (write a “what won’t wait” poem.)
Sadly hopelessly
Haunting is pain
Inflicted against
Pressed lips -
Wrenching tears
Ruthlessly
Every time I,
Carelessly obsess to
Keep your memories alive.
-
Written for Sunday Scribblings and OSI.
Kuch aisa bana mujhe tu apna ki begaani duniya se ho jaaun ..
[ Make me yours in a way that am alienated from the rest of the world.. ]
Wrote this line inspired by some text i got last evening. And as I sat and read it again, I had the following lines to add :
In search of him
I roam no where
but my heart
wanders;
a dream
lives in the eyes
faceless being invades
the city of pleasures
and stabs me
with the wait;
to witness reality
however harsh it is
but mine to just live,
his to claim a right
and ours to shape it new.
Currently
living parallelly
to me,is his world
haunting my cold days
with darkness of the night;
creating monsters
out of the sweet nothings
we never could exchange ..
–
Prompted @ OSI , Sunday scribblings
submitted to Poets Rally week 50
The truth-
any version of it
is not
U.N.C.O.M.F.O.R.T.A.B.L.E.
but the acceptance;
call it sinful
or feelings
i must be ashamed of,
mock my heart
or give standing ovation
for the courage;
brush my ideas
into cans of hopelessness
or fuel them
with your undirected anger;
I am what we desired
not; neither what you imagine,
I am for you – you are for me -
we are everything -
born from
N.O.T.H.I.N.G.
–
Prompted @ OSI , Sunday Scribblings
