Mornings of blue

April 9, 2016

  


Long stares
At the coffee mug
From a distance
Watching
How it holds itself
Stable
On the desk
Alongside the poetry books
With crumbled edges
And faint covers
Doing what it’s
Meant to do
With ease.
A whirlwind
Coming from within,
Or just another form
Of it’s being,
As if it’s trying
To escape
Towards the larger void.
Emitting
A thin white string
Of aroma
To the air,
In an effort
To lose its made-up self
To calm itself down
And to come to a stage
Of it’s own
And be
What it’s meant to be.
After all
What’s more substantial
Than being
Selfless,
And leave a stain
On the desk,
As if it knows
All the rules of the universe.

Scars

February 12, 2016

ha

 

She always loved,
The loud scars, imperfections,
In people, in herself,
Thought it ties the tales.
Stronger forever.


Started to immerse,
Her unversed heart,
So in the dark, she,
filled it with evil,
Left no place,
For obscure affairs.


She knew,
as she stared,
Across the black void.
The wrong in her,
and others in her world.
Vague, indifferent.


A thought,
In disguise,
Tiptoed, into her
ever-reigning psyche.
Rustled to lose control.

Remote

February 10, 2016

img_1351

image: instagram.com/rajatpradhan


words have aged not a day
the winters voice
so charming
of agonies, lies and fay


above the heads of many
wander
a few lonely letters

Fairy tale for the night

March 25, 2015


Image-instagram.com/rajatpradhan


A long walk
Down the shore,
Bright sun
Lonely crowd.


Watching our shadow
Moving along side,
Your hand in mine
Distant yet loud.


Collecting stones
Coloured brown,
Thoughts
Dipped in sand.


Flying birds
Watch us move,
Circling
High above the land.


Rest our bodies
Against the rock,
Now we
Move our eyes.


Sun starts
Swaying away,
Whispering
Sweet old lies.

Shadow

November 13, 2014

English Vinglish

August 4, 2014

mommygolightly

 In a recent turn of events, I traded an over-cluttered life in Bombay for a school on a hill to teach English to grade seven and eight students. I was as untrained as they come, but I knew one thing. I had always been thrilled about words coming alive on paper. I figured teaching would involve spreading a bit of that disease.

On day one, in an attempt to “know my audience”, I asked the students to share their favourite word and say why they liked it. They quickly came up with words like music, joy, peace, love, happy and others. My heart sank. It felt frugal. This is not going to be fun, I thought. Was this what they meant by the economy of language, I wondered.

Then I told them I was making word soup and needed something chunkier – words with more gravitas, more texture…

View original post 581 more words

Took a photo while re-reading this.

20140804-011850-4730403.jpg

Right Kind of Regrets

July 30, 2014


As the sun sets,
Near the highest cliff.
Wind lost within mist clad ebony.
Louder, the sound of thoughts.


Climbing up the dreaded mountain,
Above the city of so-called joy.
Part immersed with light,
Other with horizon you can touch.


She withstood,
With all the right kind of regrets.

Distant Dream

July 25, 2014

origamy


I heard a voice.
Impeccable diamond rain.
Gentle, from behind.


Followed a trail,
To the origin.
Diverted by the wind.


I travelled so,
All senses disabled.
Dragonfly in the town.


Flowers of paper,
Shivering earth.
Coloured pale brown.


I saw a tree,
Stopping by me.
Sun coated gold.


Often closed window.
World enacting peace,
With songs untold.


I looked at sky,
Lone on an island.
Stars now fade.


Fire never met ocean.
Couldn’t breathe the vibe,
Under their crusade.


I found the wild.
In the distant moon,
Scar of a rift.


Few more letters.
Lost elucidation,
In a dream adrift.

The Classic Valentines

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