Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Nepal Tragedy

The help is on its way
hold on. keep faith.
Doctors will come
your wounds will heal
the food is packed too
we care for you
Mother nature was cruel
without warnings it split its bosom
its anger flung in all directions
lt lost its mind
like wild animal
thoughtlessly spewing wrath
on men, women, child
but you dont lose hope
togather we will built a new world,
Tears cannot bring back what
is lost forever
but something can be revived
and restored
we will try
and bring back smiles
back into your lives

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Poetry Challenge Month Day Fourteen Sense Of Ending

‪#‎NaPoWriMo‬ prompt: Sense of ending
Last time I met him
He had packed his bag
His hair still ruffled
A drop of sweat on his neck
He said he needed to go
To be with the nature
To explore the rough hills
To climb the peak
What could I say?
Silently I went in the kitchen
Wrapped chicken sandwich
Just for a day
Take good care of yourself
Do not stress much
Eat proper meals everyday
He didn't seem to care
Was uncomfortable at my stare
With a quick uncomfortable hug
Faltering steps, he was gone
To follow his dream
The news screamed images
Of broken streets
Crumbled houses
Shattered glass panes
Cruel nature sometimes
Has bad temper
Where is he?
Hope he is safe
Hundred thoughts come buzzing
In my mind
I stare blankly at the screen
With silent prayers
Lingering on my lips
I look closely at every dusty face
Some rescued
Some still under debris
Where is he?
Hope he is safe
Too scared to know
I shut my eyes in tight anticipation
With trembling fingers
I send quick message on facebook page
Where are you?
Hope you are safe
No answer

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Poetry Challenge Month Day Thirteen IF Only I Could Sleep At Night

If only I could sleep at night
Morning seems far away
The train rattles softly over the rails
Fear engulfs me when I hear soft murmurs
Of strangers, heart skips a beat
Child lets out a loud shrill
His mother fast asleep

Rat scurry on the floor nibbling at food
Dropped carelessly
Silent night, the train has stopped
I look through window, see isolated scene
A hooded man sits with bend head, sips hot coffee
He, like me, cannot sleep

A distant bell, a soft jerk under my seat
The train moves slowly over the tracks
I sit up straight, plug on to my ipad
And float away to distant world
Eyes may droop, attention collapse
Reading might thoughtfully induce sleep

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Poetry Challenge Month Day Twelve Mirror On The Wall

Mirror mirror on the wall
You cannot see the poison in my mind
Nor the solitude of my soul
I live in shade of restlessness
In continuous tempest of my wrath
I died long ago
You only see my mask
And the clay shaping my profile

Poetry Challenge Month Day Eleven Puente Form of Poetry

Puente form of poetry

He lays the foundation stone, then poses for a snap
Near the large plot of land that will be his future home
He distributes sweets to guests, smiling but unaware that
He will never mature although he may, in age, grow old

~He drops the axe at broken earth, and claps his hands~

He runs to hide his face into his mother’s lap
Tears cloud her eyes wrinkles deepen on her face

She runs her fingers through his hair and lets out a deep sigh
“What will happen to my dear child when I am no more”

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Poetry Challenge Month Day Ten Don't judge Me

Even when I don't say a word
you judge me
over things I never said

How do you read my mind
when there are no questions in my eyes?

Can you hear my rage over imperfections
of your voice
I want to walk away from you
and sit elsewhere in solitude
But I do not

Because I know it will hurt you
you are not strong
I continue to sit there
and listen
waiting for you to end your twaddle

Had you looked closely 
you would see the tight fist in my lap
ready to strike your lower jaw
just to shut you up

But you see only a faint tight-lipped smile

Even when I don't say a word
you judge me
over things I never said

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Poetry Challenge Month Day Nine Incredible Woman

Incredible Woman

How easy is the chore of lady-writer
Who sits bent over her keypad, with a script in her head
She hears not the rain, nor a splash in the puddle
Sees not the droplets slide down the windowpane
She cooks up stories, stirring up her dreams
Mixing soup of fiction, nonfiction to suit the reality

The facts must be researched, nonfiction to be believed
She uncurls from the comfort corner, walks away from her desk
She walks through living room, picking up mess
Peeps into kitchen, to check if family is fed.
A hole in the socks, a broken heel
Clueless about being shoeless
She meets real people on the streets

There are strangers, women, children, often, dirty ole men
Who stare at her breast and try holding her hand
She keeps her mind focused, her posture erect
Her fingers cupped over sharp knife placed inside her bag
A smile stretched over her beautiful face
She collects untold stories with hidden facts

Five years of research, sometimes ten,
Like God, she puffs life into her characters, makes them wise
She makes them breathe, they begin to talk
A new world is created behind her scripted task
Her own world forgotten, her soul kept on hold
A faded shout from somewhere dark
She can hear no more

Incredible woman of substance
Has many duties to perform
But she does it with a knack
Always comfortable in her own zone

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Poetry Writing Month…day eight When Hungry Eat

When Hungry Eat
I was not hungry
but I saw butter cookies
round and brown
staring at me
from the cabinet an hour ago
I had forgotten about it
When did I buy it?
I think it was a month ago
or maybe two
Supermarket is an evil place
transports me to spending spree
makes me buy things
I don't really need
savories that I may never eat
they look handsome on the grocery shelf
attractive packing
seductive snaps
They will look artistic on my kitchen cabinet
Perhaps I will consume this time
maybe I should nibble on it
maybe I will have visitors
Maybe I will hear
a kid in my neighborhood cry
Whatever the reason
simple or complicated
credit card swiped
butter cookies come home
stored away into my kitchen cabinet
out of sight
Till I discover them once again
at odd hours
a cursory glance, a surprise pop up
while i was looking for something else
Sometimes when hungry
I do eat
crumbly cookies on impulse
relishing its sweetness
in the middle of the night.

Friday, April 10, 2015

Poetry Challenge Month day Seven Backyard of your heart

Give me a place in the backyard of your heart
Will open a small kiosk
to sell stories of long forgotten passion
my heart is spear eagled against my ribs, fettered
grows like inferno in my soul
Give me a place in the backyard of your heart
Will clear up your illusions about love
to bring clarity to your mind
only the hand held mirror can reflect
the filth beyond the naked eye
Give me a place in the backyard of your heart
Will shine up your desires
and pump colorful life into it.
what would you care for cup of spirits
If you have living winds of ecstasy
You have been too cold of late
Sunken eyes, depressed
Like a caged bird without wings
Soar up in sky, feel the wind
open the backyard of your heart
you need to let me curl up to you
drown away your nightmare blues
there is gust of different breeze
that will bring warmth back into our life

Thursday, April 09, 2015

Poetry Challenge Month Day Six Deep in the Woods

Lost in the woods
in the midst of scholars
each armed with strong verse
of happy times or sad
they play with words
over the bon fire
with hilarious games of letters
I wander off deep in the woods
looking for phrase
amongst fallen leaves
a strong emotion
or a song
that I can bring back
and pass the time

Monday, April 06, 2015

Poetry Month Challenge - Day five Hidden Camera

Hidden camera on the wall
Recorded stripped beauties during this fall
Came lady minister, made a call
Boycotted Fashion store from the mall
Now (in prison) they will eat just rice and Dal.

Sunday, April 05, 2015

Poetry Month Challenge Day Four Carnival


In the town square
In the midst of dancing crowd
Lovers dressed in fancy gowns
One lone woman, frail and bent
Dressed in black
Shoes browned
Unmindful of loud drum everywhere
She swung, tangoed on her toes
Round and round
A string of holy beads swayed
Between her bony fingers
Thoughts lost in distant land
Eyes closed, serene and proud
She danced alone in nirvana bout

Nobody saw her invisible clown


Friday, April 03, 2015

Poetry Month Challenge Day Three Femme Fatale

Not a femme fatale
But just someone
Infinitively compassionate
Blindingly bright
Continue to shine
on cold starless night

Capable and real
Genuinely wise
Tell me no secrets
Show me no vice
Don’t go meandering
Seeking wrong advice

I have a defense card
With a poison on its edge
Hidden beneath the long coat of ribs
Ready to strike

Not a femme fatale
Just someone
Ruled by my mind

#NaPoWriMo #3

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