Wednesday, April 20, 2022

Everybody has a story to Tell

 Everybody has a story to tell

In this month of April
Droplets glide down the spine
Tingling every sensation
Mixed with words that weave a long tale
So although I sit by the window staring at blanket of sky twinkling with stars in row
I am transported to another world by poets
Awakened at Napowrimo.

I Rot

 Do you understand

Pain
Stress
Depression
Follows
Pain
Want
Life
Without
Pain
Do you understand?
You can enjoy
Parties
with
friends
Throw
Parties
Carelessly
Day
Night
Parties
You can enjoy
I rot in dark room
Alone
Nobody
Visits
Me
Alone
Deal
With
Pain
Alone
In dark room, I rot.

Cook for Me

 I am not your wife

nor lover of your lifetime
why you come to me?
Enjoyment matters
Love for food bring me to you
You just cook for me

Out Of Shape

 Can't

Escape this feeling
Of shaping
My poem
Adjusting it
to
Fit your taste.
Hope
It
Soothes
You
The
Way
It
Stands
Deformed
Out of shape

Life Returns Back

 Life returns back

As if it never left
The loud beeps on road
Traffic jam
Street urchin at traffic light
Selling wares
before signal turns red,
man limps,
his hand outstretched
Nobody cares
Pandemic dead?
No trace of abnormality
Stagnant life
Float away
Just a small patch of mask
Remain
still.
.
.
May be an image of 4 people, motorcycle and outdoors
Anjali Bhargava, Meena Sabnani and 2 others

Mistress Of Spice

 Mistress Of Spice #namowrimo

Helper in the kitchen
Meddling with spices
Turmeric turns pale
Chilly  hot
Cinnamon alert
Stands erect
Bay leaves stretch
Shamelessly on its back
Spices look for attention
Each promising
Unique flavors
Helper grabs
Red chilly powder
Dumps it
into pool of curds
Lime giggles
Slightly squeezed
Wet to the core
Curry in pot
Boiled to brim
Oil peep
through slimy screen
Cardamom, fennel
Cumin cloves
Shared a wink
Through ebbs and flows
Salt is cool
White as snow
Awaits for its turn
proud, confident
The real taste lies
In its skin
Just a pinch
For a tasty meal.
May be an image of food
Meena Sabnani, Rhea Motwani and 14 others
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