A Poem A Day - day 30

So, the story in poetry comes to an end

Over thirty days it flittered in sand
Searching wings that would help it fly
Amongst the shells of happiness
And few specks of joy
Bathing under the sunshine
It watched the wave’s crash over shores
Saw it wash off the memories in sand
It hopped and skipped, wetting its feet
Swinging the words in the air
Saw phrases topple down in pairs
Forming verses that stirred the mind
Some escaped, some lost in bliss
But finally, poetry found its wings
To fly away to distant lands

The End

A note of thanks

I wish to express my sincere thanks to CaPoWriMo, for giving me an opportunity of discovering poetry through their prompts during this month of April, ‘The National Poetry month’,  I didn’t commit to this before because I didn’t know I had thirty of them under my sleeve till I started to unfold them, day by day, one poem a day, and was actually able to play with words for all thirty days of this cruelest month. All the poems were freshly composed.

I am surprised that the words visited me and became my new friends.

Thank you Caferati. Also my sincere thanks to all my friends who read my poems, smiled and encouraged me with their lovely feedbacks. Thank you sooooo much!!!

Familial Chat

At seven o’clock sharp my blackberry rang
I opened the door to a worldly chat
Gits from States said friendly ‘Hello’
Gina from Curacao cracked a joke
Dolls from Africa laughed aloud
Harsha from Dubai wrote a quote
Anjali from Spain quizzed teased my brain
Kanisha from Indonesia gave a shout-out
Megna from Bangkok had naughty lines to add
Mukhi from Hong Kong nodded her head
Without valid Visa, ticket, cash
Around the globe I flew, no sat
On my cozy two by two chair
To a rib tickling familial, friendly chat

Exercise on CaPoWriMo, Do a list poem.

Epulaeryu

Hot and sticky, fried just now
Succulent and sweet
I look at it hungrily
Stretch my hand to grab
Pink concentric snack
Melts in mouth
Jalebi!!

Upside-down world

So yes! I did go for this
Documentary film on homosexuality
Why are you surprised?
Must I be one to qualify?
Do I have to be under same blanket
to see his problems?
Must I wear the same skin
to understand his plight?

Hundred people watched in silences
The struggle of actor with truth
A gifted person curbed by society
Crushes his profound desires,
Religion accepts him not
As a sinner
He travels thousand miles
To hide the fact
To buy the freedom
To destroy the agony within him

The film ends with questions
Hanging loosely in the air,
Pretending to live in a perfect world
We dare not see the picture distorted.
All look at each other, probing for signs,
To be or not to be in the groove,
A mark branded to distinguish him
Eyes look everywhere searching for its kind
Some kind of reptiles walking over his skin
A pokey touch from nails shaped like draggers
Blood shot contours breathing the flames of disease
Normal? abnormal? Right? Wrong?
Eyes betrayed not.

Alone he stands away from crowd
Disturbed confused,
Standing upside-down

Cruel Death

Save me, save me, save me, she said, I am not done as yet

There are mutual funds in London; to be matured in few years
The diamonds in the lockers before I go I must wear
And oh those party invitations, I can never ever resist
Those important corporate meetings, I cannot give a miss
Her head weighed down by pills, her cratered eyes sunken deep-in
Her body shivered with grief, her whispers breathing pain
The graph fluctuated with her heartbeat, the drip found route into her veins,
She gripped on to the railing of her bed, her shrills louder with each scream
Save me, save me, save me, she said, I am not done as yet
Then suddenly, there was loud groan that faded into silence.
He looked at her helplessness, then checked her breath
He covered her with white sheet from toe to head
Smiling at his lady luck, he put on his boots, walked
Down the busy street, hailed a taxi to rush to the bank.

Exercise at Capowrimo: Write a death poem.

Everything fades away

Everything fades away, melting the vision like candle wax
The footsteps on the shores settled by restless feet,
Those artistic hazy tones of lust on a canvas of love
That dark bold ink that engraved the memories of the sleepless nights
Those finger prints that traced the grooves of the friendships carved in gold
And the life moves on
To another chapter of life, scribbling newer notes,
Sketching fresh tones,
Painting brighter shades
Hoping for its eternity to another era where yet,
Once more,
The vision melts like candle wax and everything fades away.

© Pushpee

PS: Exercise (Capowrimo) on a circular poem. It has to end with the same line it started with, but in less than 12 lines.

Summer sms

Water drop glides
Tickling the skin
Summer thrills

Media World

Media world
Bulbs flash
Headlines talk
Gibberish
Untruth
Unrehearsed
Just enough spice
To cook up the soup
For a culinary chat
To have it with
Crazy meals
And gulp it down
With gossip wines

(c) Pushpee

Untitled

“What’s for dinner?”
“Roasted steak”
“Don’t like”
“You have to eat”
“What if I don’t?”
“I will break your neck”
“You can’t do that”
“Yes, I can”
“Bloody Hell!”
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind, I have change of mind”
“Aren’t you coming over to eat?”
“No, no, wife is back from her retreat”

(C)Pushpee

PS:Exercise on Capowrimo: Write a poem entirely in dialogue.

No attribution. No stage directions. No, not even the names of the two people speaking. Just what is actually said between the two people. Your reader can reach her own conclusion about the place, how they look, what they see, what they feel, based on your poem. The poem must be untitled

Virtual Chat

Thousand miles away
You cry away
Weeping for help
Screaming through my blackberry
These sleekly mobile phones
Without a heart
‘PMS’ you say
And I laugh
Inexperienced that I am
Can relate naught
I speak of other things
Typing silly jokes
But you are not entertained
Self pity blankets you
Hiding the world
Beyond your discomfort
My insensitivity irks you
And you snap back in anger
With your words in caps
To silence me
But neither you nor I are mute
We return
You apologize
For the moods you cannot control
And I, for my insensitivity towards your pain
(c) pushpee

Exercise: 99 - CaPoWrMo - Day 21 (poem in 99 words)

Shashi Thoorer resign : Acrostics

Seasoned talk was the norm in every
Home where Netizens tweeted
All people, young and old
Send short messages in
Hushed tones, bit.ly version of 140 blinks
Incredible craze clings

Till the day, tweeting got oxidized
Hosted by a tattle minister
Opinions on cattle fair rattled, creating
Oppositions of different kind
Repeated once more with another tweet
Expecting Saudi as 'interlocutor'
Ridiculous! He seemed like a traitor!

Rendezvous for bidding 70 crores
Exterminated his career
Sooner than expected
IPL team was the weak clause
Gandhi Rahul axed Tharoor by
Nudging his mom to terminate
Equity sweat controversies
Disgraced. He migrated overseas!

© Pushpee

First letter of every line reads horizontally a 'Hidden message': Shashi Thoorer resigned

CaPoWriMo is a promise to write one poem everyday for the month of April with Caferati prompts, acrostics only 10 days more, phew!! getting tougher.....

Limerick:-day 19

On a block of nineteenth poem, I have finally arrived
With no more handy prompts, I feel so very deprived
Today I will give it a skip
Because I really cannot think
But I am glad that after reading all my poems, you survived

Scrabble match:

Will you always be just FB friend
And hide behind a virtual screen
Or will you step into my colorful world
And physically match a game with me

Won't you like to see my naughty grin
When those silly tiles obey me
Or probably see my wrinked frown
When it’s your turn to defeat me

Each morning Wiki unscrambles my brain
During my first hot cup of tea
On days you forget to play your turn
Hear my seven letters scream

This game of scrabble is much fun
Winning losing just a dream
It’s a bond that keeps our friendship strong
Play on, please don’t release me

Surinam, Paramaribo

Back in the year 1983, I am travelling wild beyond Caribbean Sea in the remote land of Surinam, red mud stretches for several miles, dotted with weeds between sand pleats, like carpets of golden dust spread over streets


Every matured plant is a fruity tree. Mangoes in abundance smashed under wheels, sky above, crystal blue, Stranger am I in this distant land, an unknown place with unknown tongue, Dutch must learn I to define a pun.


Unpack my bags and walk a talk, to my surprise I hear one Hindu hawk, turn around; see a native man, Indian features, with familiar brand, meditates on a wooden beads, chants Hanuman Chalisa and prays like a priest


At the dawn of day, the old woman comes, relating me the story of her ancestors, one hundred seasons, in the cargo ship, from remote land of Uttar Pradesh, with promise to grow rich, and a rosy bed, her grandpa was brought to fields to slave.


No money to return, and a will to survive, he settled here clinging to their culture divine, to maintain their sanity, they lived in groups, ate daily spicy Indian food, spoke Bhaiya language with common tune and even watched some Bollywood.


Happy at last, thousand miles apart, I have wrapped my thought around my mind, hand in hand, palms entwined, they enclose me into their inner grind, we build a new cozy world of power and strenght, no more a stranger in this foreign land


Under my pillow, I keep huge ball of string which, when unwound stretches happiness all the way to my motherland


Writing prompt: http://www.jacarandapress.org/writing/poetry/grace.shtml

Book Launch

Shiny books
Freshly cooked
They all sit there
Snuggled
With army discipline
Neatly arranged
Alert
One on top of the other
Same width, same size
Dressed in similar jacket
All cloned with same verse

“A brilliant crime comedy’ screams the blurb

The words twitter like birds
Escape from bound copies
To seduce the crowd
The author smiles, ear to ear
Happy that she, the Goddess of the verse
Could titillate the readers
And arouse interest in the scene
Frame by frame,
Moments captured
Camera flash
Autographed copies
Change hands

Out goes the revised manuscript
Driving through the lanes
Searching for a celluloid station
Where characters can step out
From the book and
Replay their part
On a big screen
Again

Until then
Goddess of verse
Awaits

ps: Inspired by the ‘book launch’ that I attended today
‘Betelnut killers’ by Manisha Lakhe at Crossword Book store.

Hawkers

They sell over open gutters,
filth covered over by
a blue tattered trampoline
Unmindful of rodents
scurrying under their feet
while they happily serve the eatery
Batata Wadas, Idli Sambar, Dosas,
all sold for a penny
A man of law stretches his hand
for his regular hafta of Rs600
and a doze of heavy meal
Then turns blind eye
to the law breakers
who become stronger
on Mumbai streets

Unmindful youngsters
in heat and dust
devour hungrily
the unhealthy meals

Mom, Where are you?

Last night Mom walked into my dreams
So elegantly dressed in her white sari
Hopping, jumping, I slid next to her, under
The shadow of her pampering, sat I and said

“Look Ma, I learnt to cook tasty cuisine
Shelf by shelf, see my wardrobes are clean
Stubbornly, no more do roll I on floors, you know
I even kiss closed temples’ doors.”

She looked at me with a rapturous sigh
Then turned and walked away under angled light
“Wait! Wait! Don’t go, please come back”
But suddenly it was just an apparition

I pleaded, I screamed and then I cried
Deep sobs in my dreams, but Mom, I couldn’t find
Just droplets on my pillow, wet blanket on my side
Soaked memories of her sound advice

If tears could built the rivers that flowed through
These memories that lead up to her shores
I would swim right across, up to heavens tonight
to bring back my mom to this earthy twilight

A solitary dot

Look closely - Capowrimo


A tiny spec of a solitary dot
steers away silently
from a mobile chain,
far, far away from a wavering thin black line
scratches its head,
walks back and front,
changes direction,
left, right, left
finally smiles
as it slides back
into the comfort of wavy black line
merging itself with
the group of ants

Writing exercise :: http://www.jacarandapress.org/writing/poetry/look.shtml

Black Berry

Stop sending me your hourly messages
Through my insensitive black berry
My own real world is eclipsed by your heart beat.

I have stopped speaking the profound words,
Can you feel my breath through this virtual world?

I want to reach out and touch your love
But I can only grab the shadows of your smile

The cool air through my window ruffles my hair
I want to bathe under its soft breeze
But your memories unwound down the lane
Come popping out of this minute screen

Stop sending me messages, this is only a machine
Your words crawl
Only for a moment and then subside
I want the physical you by my side

Inspired by exercise at http://www.jacarandapress.org/writing/poetry/string.shtml

Redevelopment

One more Sunday morning, we meet
you on that chair in the corner
and I near the door
Again those useless sweaty tongues
same thoughts, pickled and recycled
you nod your approval
like a wooden doll on beads
and straighten your back on every plead
not looking at my direction
nor see my wrinkled nose
thoughtlessly, you distribute advice
changing fonts and shapes
which nobody can read
and you begin anew

Later that afternoon
you will meet me alone
to sob on my shoulders
and crib like a baby, I know
how hard it is for you
to chair that meeting
where lines are distorted
so are the shapes of greed
Week after week,
I will give you same advice
Of taking your stand
And not let them bully you

Every Sunday evening, we built new hope
to own a house on the same floor
marble tiled, comfy lifts, decent gym
where you can sit on your side of window
and I on mine
and watch the sunset
matching the rays to find some clues

Every Sunday night,
You and I will paint fresh dreams
Of different hues
and wash away our blues

ps: today was the exercise on blue and I could use this word only once.
An exercise in blue: http://www.jacarandapress.org/writing/poetry/blue.shtml

Mumbai Trains

During rush hour it is not wise
to travel in Mumbai trains
You need skates to wheel
through the crowd as the ladies
Compartments have different
slots for different platforms
And if you want to save the time
and not miss the train
You might squeeze into gents compartment,
A mistake that you may later repent
You will find yourself packed like sardines
Into the sea of men, breathing neck to neck.
You will shudder as you get crushed
Like a vehicle in the car-wash,
You can feel their temperature on your skin,
As you get rubbed by their careless massage
No bone from head to toe can move,
Inch by inch, you wriggle
to find some space to breathe,
Only the nose is free to twist its nostrils
As it wrestles with different smells
The musky smell of aftershave,
The pungent smell of tobacco
The fragrance of a betel nut,
The greasy whiff of coconut
The bland odor of sweat

You want to be released and
wheedle for next station,

The train halts, you don’t exit
But are just pushed out from the train
Like a fountain of human from gargoyle.
Little wonder then that precision
At keeping the balance saves you
From scratching your knee

Free at last, after the train has departed,
You wriggle free and
Shake off the salt of their flesh
But now, you smell
Like a man.

ps: Writing exercise on smell @ http://www.jacarandapress.org/writing/poetry/nasturtium.shtml

The original Simile

Silly man knows not the rules of the game
He is praying like a bird in a golden cage

How does he ask for impossible things?
Is happiness as expensive as a computer screen?

With precious stones, he makes travel bands
As pretty as air tickets to distant land

He travels in style, from New Jersey to Detroit
Running wild as if there are bombs during riots

He sells his wares, flaunting high and low
As loud as vase in the shopping window

Silly man loses his wages, his interest, oh!
Turns as blue as non paused radio

Muttering things that nobody can ever trace
Talkative as if he wants to win the race

If he won’t in time learn, he might as well rot
And die as lonely as old woman on cot

ps: In response to ‘The Original Simile’

Pills

The pill sits there on my table top
White, round, fat and serene
With the group of other playful pills
Square, round, pink, red, green

The pain in my waist is on increase
Nerves slapping under my skin
I stare at pill with hungry thrill
In hope to find some relief

“Think twice” says pill “before you chill”
“Are you aware of my side effects?
“I may jump, skip, dance and crush your pain
I may also cause some defects.”

“The twitch you see, the bump you feel
The red sore under your knee
All white blood cells that pained like hell
Was mischief played by me”

I purse my lips and glare at pill, screaming
“I thought you were my best friend!”
Ouch! Excuse me, I shall squeeze,
Now your end you shall see

One by one, I crush them all
And crowd them into a pan
Those square round fat, pink green, red pills
All powdered in dust can

Villanelle

What would I do without your grace?
You are the reason I learnt to smile
You are my spiritual hero at every phase

Lonely in this desert, hot, lost and misplaced
Friends trot with me, but just for wee bit while
What would I do without your grace?

I see your powerful magic at every place
The nature is the haven spread across the miles
You are my spiritual hero at every phase

Unafraid, trusting you, I ran every race
With prayer in my heart, I crossed every tile
What would I do without your grace?

When I forget myself, then beheld I the face
Of my Lord, and then I feel that everything is fine
You are my spiritual hero at every phase

Seeking pleasures of this world, I wasted time
But patiently you showed me your path divine
What would I do without your grace?
You are my spiritual hero at every phase

Limericks

There was once a blogger who wrote to say
That she wanted from Microsoft her daily pay
She went on to tweet
That sounded quite sweet
Now Bill Gates her on twitter everyday.

Limericks: (5 lines. Rhymes - aabba.)

Clerihew

Mirza Sania
Crossed beyond border wagah
She cashed it with a tennis ball
By tossing it over heavy media toll

Clerihews: (Clerihews: It is four free verse lines with an "AABB" rhyme scheme.)

Mumbai Streets – A Cinquain

Mumbai
Street light turns red
Beggars like swarm of birds
Peck on my food packet I gape
Perplexed

Note: A Cinquain (2/4/6/8/2) is kind of an extension to the haiku, but more direct. 22 syllables.

I hate you

I loved you once
But now I hate you
I need to end this game
Let’s pretend
We are still friends
Our interest is still the same
Let’s pretend that
Your absence has not
Killed every wave
Just for a day
I want to revitalize
Memorable moment
That prey my dreamscape
I want to choke you
Grip you into breathlessness
I need to end this game

Bollywood style

Together, they share, cramped up into one room
Strangers in text, their interests divide
He sits to watch TV, while his room-mate croons
Stuffs cotton into her ears to concentrate on her book

Standing back to back, they snarl out of spite
The reptiles filled the room, poisoned by their bite
Over every cup of coffee, they find reasons to fight
The moon hangs its head and hides behind its light

Until one day, on that cold rainy night, he sneezes too loud
Her nerves get a fright; she watches in vain, his health decline
In a Bollywood style, she prays for a while, in church, in mosque
In filmy style, she kneels on knees and crawls for a mile


Hate transforms to love, like it always does, in Hindi films
To be villain till the end is a curse, the hero never dies
The end always shines, the strangers in text
Sings love songs divine.

Together they share, cramped up into one room
Strangers’ no more, lovey-dovey style
Movie-goers happy, their money worth well-spent
Fully satisfied, ear-to-ear, and all smiles

No Poem Today

Only ten minutes left
Yet no poem came
Knocking on my door
My efforts decayed

I waited all day
Outside my door
For the phrases to pass
And frill up my verse

Roses I displayed
Sweet fragrance glazed
The music was loud
To distract the brave

No sonnet, no haiku
None crossed this way
This day shall pass
With no poem today

Check Mate

Twenty three times
I entered your room
It still remains unchanged
No chair has moved,
Nor your style
Your unpolished shoes lie by the window
So is the packet of your cigarette
Untouched
Where is your mind?
What has got into you?
Come-on
Make your move
Your king stands unguarded
You have been check mated
There is no escape
This game must end
To start afresh
Your new game of love

April Haiku

Foolish assumptions
The only words that you hear
Me whisper are true.