Come Back to Me (Form - Trilinea)

Come back to me

Your Memories
turn around to haunt me again
Rose, I miss you!

Thanks to Jack Huber for his tip on Trilinea.

Similar to haiku, the trilinea is three unrhymed lines, leading me to believe that haiku was its basis. Its syllable count is slightly different at 4-8-4, for a total of sixteen. One large caveat: the word "rose" must be placed within the poem.

Other than that, I can find no other requirements, so theme and title are at the poet's discretion, though including "rose" may dictate the subject somewhat. I have seen the word used as a color, a flower, an action and even a name, as well as the plural form, so evidently one can be creative with this rule.

Social Network (Form - Puente)

Ryze, Facebook, Twitter and other endless networks
Leave little time for my important monthly health checks
It’s when BP shoots high and eyes can’t focus on ground
The limbs seriously weak, my appetite is not sound
~I know I must sit down to relax~
Tired of walking for miles in search of butter and bread
I wish I could get a phone call from my closest friend
Who cooks delicious meals but nowadays doesn’t speak
I am practising to apologize without a flattery chat.

I am grateful to Jack Huber from whom I have learnt this form, called "Puente" means "bridge" in Spanish, and the so-named poetic form is built around one. This intriguing form was invented by poet James Rasmusson and described by ShadowPoetry.com.

Constructed in three stanzas, the first and third are separate thoughts, conditions or elements, but share an equal number of lines and the center "bridge" stanza. This middle stanza is but one line and is enclosed in tildes (~) to distinguish itself as both the last line of the first stanza and the first line of the last stanza.

The meter and rhyming are at the poet's discretion, free verse being perfectly acceptable. The title is has no guidelines; it need not match the bridge stanza like the example below.

Random Thoughts - Happiness

The purpose in our life is to be happy.
Happiness comes with success.
Successful are those who reach their goals
But the problem is that our goals are confusing..
That invites unhappiness..
That happily walks into our life...
Destroying the very purpose of our life.

Pulpo Paul - The Super star

Today early morning, Pulpo Paul walked through my door
Splash! Splash! The water dripped out from his eighty pores'
Green were the slimy creatures sliding behind him
Holding the eight flags that had made the world believe
That he was greater star much bigger than Tendulkar Sachin
Who often consulted a parrot before playing world cricket
Wiping his brow, Pulpo silently slid into my kitchen bucket
Started a primer of one month old football magic

For those who don't know what I am talking about.'Paul Pulpo' is the spanish word for 'Paul the octopus'.....

Paul the Oracle Octopus is clearly the biggest winner of the World Cup after recording a perfect prognostication record whether he knows it or not (he probably doesn't).

He performed eight picks, eight correct, eight tentacles and even predicted Spain as the winner of FIFA....and I was smitten by his prediction...know what I mean???

In India Cricket is the craze....hence the reference..parrot is the one to whom ppl go for horoscope sometimes....

this is the fun poem...which has the essense of color, animal, star and emotions...
Hope u enjoyed it..

Yay! I won the 'Poetry Contest' the second time.....

On one of the forums at Ryze, they are having regular poetry contest every fortnight which will be on till thankgiving day 2010, whereby they put up a picture and we have to write a quatrain inspired by the picture.

A quatrain is a four-line poem and may or may not rhyme.

The poem that I had won earlier was Frozen to Stillness

This is the second poem which made it to final list. Below are the picture that they posted and my quatrain on it below the picture.

Copyright © 2010 by Jack Huber

The photo was taken at the Sonnenberg Mansion and Gardens in Central New York State.

Come Back Soon

Since nineteen eleven, behind mosaic so bright
Await I, with bouquet of fruits and flowers by my side
Come back soon while the flame still burns hot
Love in abundance craves for its first speck of light

(c) Pushpee

My winning entry can be found at http://www.jackhuber.com/quatraincity.htm

Soooooo happy..heheee!!!

Best friends are E-Pals if we let them be that....

Sometimes we get too close to our online friends that we don't want the magic to fade away.....

Online, we bare our soul, expressing our real feelings, taking for granted that we may never meet them personally.

We are ourselves with no pretence what-so-ever, not afraid of being rejected for our physical short comings.

Too short, too tall, ugly scars, scanty hair, too poor, low profile, too fat, stammering, limping, abusive family, bad habits, the list is endless and everybody has something missing, but all this is forgotten online because only words matter. Words are the only connection that we have and that is what builts up our relationships.

So, what if one day, our friend decides to meet us offline...??

The fear is profound...fear of losing our best friend. Fear of not finding any words to cement the friendship, of not going forwards beyond few words. It is true that if the friendship is deep and genuine, our friend may overlook our shortcoming but then one never knows....

I was inspired to write this poem, (and had posted it earlier on my blog some two years ago and now posting again after editiing it) It not necessary reflects my feelings alone...it can be written by anybody who has low self confidence.....and sometimes I am guilty too

I would love to meet you
But I am afraid
Of your rejection
Or your stares
Or your surprises
You might discover
When you see me
That
I do not qualify the
Image in your mind

It is not my fault
If you drew the picture of me
In your soul
Reading my thoughts
My opinions
My words
From your virtual sight

I never said
I am pretty
Rich
Influential
Nor did I ever
Discuss my age
You adored my rambling
My wit
My style
Imagining a God
With feminine delight

Darn! Why must I care
About your desires
Of seeing the skeleton of me
I truly cannot match
The fabric
Nor colours
Nor nirvana
Of your wayward mind

I want to be away from
Your binary wildest dreams
You sit at your own desk
And I will, at mine
We can still drink coffee
And chat online
We can carve out poetry
From my lines

But let me be me
My true bare soul
I cannot meet you,
This evening
Offline

Although, after reading this poem, what we feared will happen....
The friendship might fade away......Honesty is a bitter wine.

Pain is back again

Pain comes again,
knocking on my toes,
Pulling my nerves
I pretend
I don't feel it,
I go about finishing off my chores,
pain waits
hiding behind my skin
till I relax to stretch my feet and
when it knows
I can ignore it no more,
squeals a wicked scream
moving closer to me,
wraps me with discomfort,
and I choke,
but keep a straight face,
too proud to admit
that I care.....

Pain pouts at losing
its one more game of oppression.

White Ants

source

I didn’t know how I could write
about the plight of a woman
whose FD’s got eaten
by bunch of white ants

She hid them away from the family members
burying it deep inside her wooden cupboard
Not checking for years,
smiling secretly about the travels
she would take when the FDs matured

And when the time came,
she looked deep into her cupboard
and found the white dust
Of FDs with numbers chewed away.

Did the white ants know
the value of money written on the paper?
Did they know it fetched a price?

It powdered the serial numbers in row,
chewing away the dreams of that poor woman

Ah! Someone please arrest that bunch of white ant!!

*FD - Fixed deposits
Inpired to write this poem after I read THIS

Destiny

A picture posted on the Writer's forum for me to be inspired and write a poem

The photo from the Quatrain City Contest this week was taken at Downtown Disney in Orlando, Florida by Jack Huber

My poem on this picture was

Was this the destiny or you chose to mold into stone?
Hearts that could not hold the moments of love
Crept under the sands of time, and now you stare
Hoping to re-ignite, so that once again you learn to care


Winning entry by Diane Stephenson
Phantasmagoria

In nightmarish dreams, with swollen tongue
I choke on words I cannot speak.
Demented faces swirl but can’t come close
once I awaken from this phantasmagoric world.

And runner-up: Khurshid Alam
Blessing Ceaselessly

Worship to the gods studded in the linoleum.
The sacred murals bless you: they stand guard
against all evils in life and light your ways;
the third eye awakens you to think beyond.

Dad, whom I never knew

At three, you walk away from my life
Abandoned, I leaned on uncles and cousins
Never learning the father’s love

You were not there to see me grow and bloom
They say that dads help in times of gloom
I looked for you in my momma’s love

How I wish you had cared for your health, then
And lived the life with utmost care
I too would have learnt of father’s love
And known what it is to be a papa’s girl.

(c) Pushpee

I am not a Bhopali

I am not a Bhopali
No, not just yet
At 25cents I cannot be that
Deformed body, fractured nose
Crumpled feature with an overdose
of chemical churned out with a flair
using unproven technology
what do you care?
you have nothing worthwhile
with me to share

Security Hazards

Security was the important code

Neither knife nor bullet under her coat

“Nope” they said “We want no risk,
Just bones and skin, march brisk and frisk”

Said they would deliver at her place
Her dowry packed with ‘Hail Mary’ grace

Just chastity belt below her waist
She could follow the nude who ran in haste

She looked at old, young, pale skinned sight
All toddle in line, left, right, left, right

She couldn’t board the flight that night
Was much too bashful, that Indian bride

Gargogyle Notes

Photo Copyright © 2010 by Jack Huber- All rights reserved.

Quatrain City Poetry Contest #5

The soothing music soared high up in the sky
Stirring the souls from ether zones
They parted the clouds to peep into the earth
From heaven, and tangoed to gargoyle notes.

Winning enteries:

Winner: Mari Laura Skjelvik
Moving Forward

Sweltering encompassed by stillness and daze,
directions of bewildered mind and soul,
healing as the wind sounding like freedom's trumpets,
moving forward, I pack my bag and leave town.

Runner-up: Diane Tegarden
Reveille

The city’s guardians' trumpets call
beleaguered inhabitants to guard her walls,
though bone weary of the war and strife
each must answer to protect home and family’s life.

Drabble

100 words fiction is called drabble

It was rainy heavily, colder drops, a welcome respite from the heat of the past week. Huddled under the small over-crowded bus-stand, I was waiting for the rain to let up so I could walk back from work, then suddenly out of nowhere, she came walking towards me and then sat down on the ground in front of me, spreading her legs. “Help! I can’t bear anymore” she screamed. “Move back, move back” said an older woman. But Alas! It was too late! Loud shrills filled the air, curiosity discovered the rage. One more street child was born that day.

The first few lines are the prompts at :http://www.yourstruly-theatre.com/ctspage.htm and the creative ending was written by me…..

Poetry

Poetry for me, is an expression of feelings
that reponds to the outer stimulii
Exploding the dam of thoughts
That comes out gurgling out of my dreams

Its an instant gratification of self
With words that wear lazy wings
And flutter all around my world
Bringing joy as they begin to sing

Word by word they emerge
On the ramp of verse, they wink
Dressed in jackets of metaphors
Surprise me with their tricks

Poetry for you is the food for thought
For me, a dessert with drinks
(c) Pushpee

Fibonacci poetry

Loud
Noise
Around
Deafening!
Disturbs the silence
Limits concentration of mind
Kindly could you return my solitude back to me?

(c)Pushpee

The Fib, or Fibonacci poetry, is based upon a numerical sequence that begins with 0 and 1, and each subsequent number in the sequence is the sum of the previous two. Thus, the first few members of the list are 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89 and so on. For example, to figure the next number in the sequence after 5, you would add 5 and the previous number, 3, to get 8. Then, 8 and 5 is the next number, 13.

Poets throughout history have utilized interesting sequences in their poetic forms, and for centuries they have used the Fibonacci sequence as a guide for haiku-like poems. The numeric values typically represent either the number of syllables or words and usually is limited to just the first six members of the sequence beginning with 1. Most Fibs, however, are just six lines and utilize syllable counts, in the succession 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8 . Like most syllable-based formats, there are no rhyme or meter requirements

source: http://www.jackhuber.com/

Party Invitation

My niece is celebrating her tenth wedding anniversery in Goa and she wanted to invite everybody, I wrote for her the poem to go with her invitation:


Ten years of bliss, you shouldn't give a miss
dancing on Goa sands with some musical bands
hope our family and friends
with gather togather for tenth aniversery bells
and spend some time in harmony
to celebrate a lovely cermony
are you a game??
sent in your name
cause we are looking
before hotel booking
If you are able to come
It will be so much fun
I promise we will dance and play
and drink wine throughout the day

Frozen to Stillness

On one of the forums at Ryze, they are having regular poetry contest every fortnight which will be on till thankgiving day 2010, whereby they put up a picture and we have to write a quatrain inspired by the picture.

Photo Copyright © 2010 by Jack Huber- All rights reserved.

A quatrain is a four-line poem and may or may not rhyme. I attempted this first time and I won. Above is the picture that they posted and my quatrain on it

Frozen to stillness, watched city walk by,
heart blooms hearing laughter under the blue sky.
Come, let’s join them through this alley, we must
break off this stoned life to release our lust.

My poem is also found HERE

Runner-up: Ayoub Bangroo

Myth of Life

Myth of life eludes me
years passed, but could not yet own;
can`t now understand what I see,
am I alive, or carved in stone?
It feels good to be appreciated. Don't you think so....???

Solitude

Its one of those days when u wish to talk to nobody, when even the bright sunlight seems dim, when u wish to be left alone, its on those days when u introspect and weigh each moments and come out stronger, when awakened from ur daze

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!!!