Goodbye 2010

On this final chapter of 2010, there is no end, the unfinished story flips over to the next year, tweaked a little, with more new characters, murdering the unfulfilled desires and dreams, creating enough space for protogonist to edit her phrases to weave a new world

Sunset

The sun walks away

Quietly behind the hills 

Shedding off its pink trail

On the belly of the sky

Reflection on waters bid shy goodbye

As the night falls.

Once again it will back at twilight,

Newer dreams will float on fragile minds,

Some will bloom colorfully when realized

While others will sink and never materialize.

Life goes on like it always has,

With every sunset,

There is a newer sunrise.

Pretty Sparrow

A tiny plump sparrow sits closer to my feet

Fearless, shrugs her feathers, enjoying the crisp cold breeze

Unmindful of my moods that swings from hot to cold

She chirps away my blues, with her stories not yet told.

Dashing through traffic jam

On crazy Mumbai roads
With one sharp-edged mood
Santa sees the tempers glow
He tries to keep his cool
Don't want to spoil his day
But too much on Mumbai roads
Is testing his red-hooded brains

Auto-rickshaws here and there
Breaking all traffic rules
Gives him continuous jitters
As they rattle down the roads
He holds on to his goody bags
And hums softly some prayers
Hoping he will survive
Without a broken bone

Mingled roads
Jumbled roads
Oh it’s such a pain
Its no fun
Travelling is better
If he went by local train

Yeah!

Living in bliss

Photograph was taken by Jack Huber in a vacant campground in the Ouachita Mountains in Western Arkansas

and I was inspired to write

At peace, under the bosom of leaves and trees,
so very still, you live in bliss,
until a hunter robs you of your freedom
and shreds you up for a delicious meal.

Copyright © 2010 by Pushpa Moorjani

This is my 6th win in this ongoing contest which will end on Thanks Giving Day. We write a single quatrain inspired by the photo. A quatrain is a four-line poem and may or may not rhyme.

Winning entries are posted at http://www.jackhuber.com/quatraincity.htm.

I won this contest as a runner-up'
The winner was Diane T who wrote a quatrain inspired by this picture
she wrote: Gentle Denizens

The verdant forest waits in hush,
its ceiling a cathedral of dappled shade,
and in the peaceful quiet
the gentle denizens graze in grace.
Copyright © 2010 by Diane Tegarden

The girl with the dragon tattoo

The girl with the dragon tattoo
Yes! I see her often online
Chirping away on her face-book status
Telling me what’s on her mind

Every outrageous chat she makes
While speaking out her dormant lines
There is hurricane of spiteful abuses
Clouding her freedom and her rights

Clever thoughts, untold secrets
She swirls them into the path of crime
Cynics chop her words to pieces
And subject her to cruel trials

Should she seal her choral lips
And silently watch the world pass by
Or should she make a marked difference
By changing rhythm, rhyme and the chime

The girl with the dragon tattoo
Yes, she was the one I saw online
The world helplessly watched her disappear
As she faded away sans light

There is no moment for truth
Fanatics broke her sturdy pride

Image source

My entry for Big Tent Poetry Circus where we had to choose a title of one book, and use it as a line for our poem from the list of Best Sellers, and I chose THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO, by Stieg Larsson

Broken Man

Yes! You were always right
That’s what I wanted you to believe
Although I knew the truth
But were afraid to hurt you so
Saying yes was easy

What did it cost me?
My ego still intact, my spirit unflawed
The power of love was strong
Happiness would lose its charm
Had I proved you wrong

Turning pages of memories,
Under a soft light, in my mind
Refreshes those days of wrinkled frown
When I had let you win
And you were sure, you had wronged.

I should have told you the bitter truth
Guided you on a beaten path
Your health would not betray me thus
Longer I would have you by my side
Alas! I rock with a broken leg

Cross posted at November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 8, for today's prompt, on 'Write an agreement poem'.

Wake up Baby

I touched his soft wet cheeks

Prompting him to wake up
It was time for his next feed
Just a little, he opened his eyes
Like a bored cub in a Nirvana pose
Dimpled chubby arms, stretching
High above his baldy head
His body stiffened, but for a moment
Then relaxed
He had not finished his sleep as yet.

This is my entry for the prompt at 2010 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 2

City of dreams

This was my entry for contest #15 at Ryze forum called Wordmeister, writers and poets unite. where we post a quatrain on picture of a city

Image (c) Jack Huber

High rise goals pierce the frozen sky

To my city of dreams, I behold

With a heart of gold, strong and stiff
Off shores, I melt my fears of the unknown.

Winner was Diane Stephenson on her quatrain called ‘Faith’

The pinnacle of faith rises high,
Points to a cloudless sky
Where dreams are formed
And lives transformed.
© 2010 by Diane Stephenson

Runner-up: Diane Tegarden on her quatrain ‘Spires’

Spires reaching to the sky
Teaching us of man’s desire
To become more than himself
Remembrances of lives gone by.
© 2010 by Diane Tegarden



Limericks-Geelani-Roy

They shared the Nobel Prize, which was no fake
They had earned it good for what they spake
They walked across the LOC
To discuss more problems of birds and bees
Now Roy and Geelani swim in milky shake

Inspired to write this limerick after reading the news on TOI

Geelani, Arundhati to be booked under sedition charge

He is Complicated

He will tell you sterner tales
to hide his softer side
then with most expensive gift,
he will surprise
to compromise his rougher
Tones
He is complicated

One moment he is singing
Then suddenly, a bad curse
He is weighing your every word
With a suspicious shaky verse
until you are bitterly
Stoned
He is complicated

You have spend all day grooming
To celebrate a memorable day
Playfully he praises you
with succulent and tangy words
Then suddenly, cornered into a tighter
Zone
He is complicated

To be or not to be
What you see do not believe
He is complicated

Inspired by Raamesh's poem : She is complicated

Bored Autumn

This was my entry for contest #14 at Ryze forum called Wordmeister, writers and poets unite. where we post a quatrain on picture of a city

Bored, the Autumn undressed the lone tree
In a concrete jungle of high rise steel
For vibrant birds, it looked within the leaves, but
Barren was the city, chirping silenced on those streets
Copyright © 2010 by Pushpee


However the winner entry was by Deborah Walker
Displaced

In the dingy gray of the big city’s bustle
Stands a country boy, stripped and displaced,
Arbitrary among the structured,
Reflective of the dreams he’s chased.
Copyright © 2010 by Deborah Walker

And the runner-up was Diane Stephenson
Sombre city

Sombre city skies, swirling, sigh;
Men, monstrous monuments making--
Cruel concrete cages--call, complain, cry,
Fevered, fearful, facing failure, freedom faking.
Copyright © 2010 by Diane Stephenson

Lucky again –The fifth time…

Won the poetry contest again! Yay!!!

Twice monthly, a photo is posted on the Facebook forum, "Wordmeisters, Poets and Writers Unite!" Members then compose a quatrain, or 4-line poem, inspired by the photograph. Quatrains are judged on creativity, poignancy, format (if applicable) and content. A most interesting take on the photo will also score well.

In the contest no #13 this picture was posted

This photograph was taken in beautiful downtown Lincoln, Nebraska by Jack Huber.

And my winning entry was

The Bridge


Together, you and I had walked on that bridge,
Crossing over the lakes and beaten paths beneath;
The dancing stars in the scorching noon we found,
Under the belly of sky, many such eternal joys.

Runner-up was by Ayub Bangroo

Bridge the Gap

Moving steadily on life`s highway
to bridge the gap so vast,
some have crossed and some away,
an endless run, there to last.

Winning entry can also be found at http://www.jackhuber.com/quatraincity.htm

Creative Mind (Form-Double Etheree)

Day
Like this
When I try
To create pun
Verse Special for me
But fail because my mind
Is occupied by stray thoughts
That block my mind against real things
Random happenings of day events
Cloud my judgment by crippling me all day

I walk for fresh air up to the window
Draw curtains a bit to look outdoors
Staring still at blooming flowers
Tensions melt and leave my side
Free at last from stiff nerves
Fresh moods cloud the frowns
Happiness reigns
Once more I
Feel some
Joy

The poetic form, "etheree," uses syllable count rather than meter and is unrhymed. It is named for its creator, a poet named Etheree Taylor Armstrong.


The basic etheree form has ten lines, the first consisting of exactly one syllable, the second line of two syllables, and so on until the last line's ten syllables. An etheree can also be reversed, starting with ten syllables and ending with one.

A "double etheree" combines the two, so is twenty lines, starting with one syllable, counting up to ten. Line eleven also has ten syllables and each line thereafter reduces by one until line twenty's single syllable.

One Dark Stormy Night (Fiction)

It was dark and stormy night. Tejal and Salina emerged from the cinema hall after the late night show.

“Let’s wait till the rain stops”, said Salina.

Tejal looked at her watch, “Its 10:30pm, it is getting late. Hubby will be home by 11pm, listen, I have an umbrella, we both can share. If we wait longer it might get too late. We shouldn't have come for this late night show.” She said.

“Oh! Never mind; it was fun na?” said Salina as she squeezed closer to her friend under the umbrella.

The strong wind blew against their faces and it was getting difficult to hold the umbrella. They walked slowly on the side of the road. Both of them clung tightly to umbrella but were drenched from waist downwards. Luckily there were many more people returning home after a late night show.

“Only one more lane and we will reach home.” said Salina as they entered the lonely lane.

“Yeah! Not a good idea to go out on these rainy nights, the street lights have gone off too, it’s so dark. I am afraid, you know…” said Tejal

“Hahaaha! You are just being a coward.” Said Salina

Suddenly a huge, black car whizzed past them splashing the muddy water from the puddle wetting them head to toe.

“Hello, You idiot! What the hell!!” both of them shouted together.

The car screeched to a halt, reversed and stood next to them. A dark, fat man dressed in dark green cloak emerged from car.

“Get into the car.” he whispered, puffing the bad breath into their faces.

“Eeeww! Cough! Cough! Who are you? We don’t know you, why should we get into your car? Said Salina

“I said don’t argue with me, understand? Just get into the car or I shall slice you into small bitty bits.” he said extracting a shiny knife from his butt pocket.

“Take Salina with you, she is a single woman and has nobody waiting for her at home. I cannot go with you; my hubby will be home any minute now. Salina, go my dear, go with him, Who cares whether you reach home early or late? Try to understand, go” said Tejal

“Nopes! I am not going without you.” Protested Salina

“I said get into the car, both of you, or I shall kill you both” he said talking through his clenched teeth.

“But you have only one knife, and let me see if it is sharp enough to chop two women” said Salina trying to grab his hand.

“Being funny, huh?” he said, and poked her with the pointed tip just below her navel.

“Ouch! It hurts! Okay, you win. Come on Tejal, let’s go with him, maybe it's a short ride.”

As soon as they stepped into the car, there was a click of doors locking and the car picked up speed.

“He looks like our Sallu Baba na, look at his muscles.” whispered Tejal

“Yeah, maybe his cloak will tear and fly off his body if he shows some anger, like in the movie” laughed Salina.

"Uff! Oh!, his cloak is so loose, let me see if he is wearing a khadi shirt within"

"Shush, Shush!!" giggled Salina

Tejal fidgeted with the handles, turned them clockwise to lower the window pane.

“Al la loo ya! Aieya! Look Salina! Look, we are in the mid-air” screamed Tejal

“We are in the car, we are not in the airplane, silly”

“Arrey! Look! I am not joking. See that? There is water below, we are flying over the sea’”

“Hello, bhai saab, Sallu, can we call you Sallu? By the way, where are you taking us?”

“Shut up and sit quietly and let me concentrate on my driving” said the man

“But you are not driving, you are flying”

“Grrrrh! I said let me concentrate, my boss is expecting you.”

“Boss? You have a boss? Who is he?”

“You ask too many questions, why don’t you just relax and you will know it soon.” He said as he steered towards a small hill in the middle of water.

“Is this an island? Your boss lives here?” said Tejal as the car came to a halt in front of a huge castle.

“Get off the car” he roared.

Carefully they got off the car, it was still raining heavily and they were wet and cold. They walked towards the castle and knock on the huge iron door.

A bald old man in dhoti and cap, with a shawl draped over his shoulders opened the door.

“Wah! Wah! You brought two pretty young women for me today? Shahbaz putther, Welcome! Welcome” said the old man inviting them to walk in.

“Why are we brought here?” said Salina, stepping forward and resting her palms on her hips.

“Well! I am hungry, I asked him to get me one woman who will cook for me, but he has brought two women, that’s good! That’s very, very good!”

“But we will not cook for you” said Salina.

“You can just order food from Mc Donalds or from KFC. We normally order food from take-a-away outlet when we are tired and hungry and too lazy to cook” said Tejal.

“Hello! Can’t you see that this is an island and there are no restaurants here?”

“And what makes you think that we will cook for you?”

“Look ladies, you have no choice, either you cook for me or else I will chop you up and eat you raw.”

“You are not serious, are you? You can’t possibly eat a human, that too two pretty women, would you? They do something else to pretty women, we read in papers all the time and its never chopping them to eat. Nah! It's not appropriate, me thinks” said Salina

“Yes I do, when I am hungry I don’t care what I eat.”

Tejal started to shiver and held on to Salina’s hand

“Okay, we will cook for you” said Salina, “but first we need to wash ourselves, we are feeling very filthy, can we change our clothes before we cook for you?”

“Yeah, that’s like a good girl, there are fresh set of clothes in the bathroom, go wash and change while I defrost some fresh meat,”

Salina and Tejal held each other’s hands and slowly walked towards the bathroom, then turned to the other room, hastened their footsteps, walked towards the main door and started to run.

They ran faster, looked behind them and saw Shallu following them. They ran faster and faster, running on the soft grass, running towards the beach and were about to jump into the water when they both tripped and fell down on their knees.

“Ouch!”

“Mamma, what are you doing on the floor?”

“Ooooh! Phew! Just a bad dream, thank goodness!” said Tejal as she held her daughter closer to her and wept.

Greener Tones

Heart knows not the limitless boundaries
It spreads carelessly over the greener tones;
Its fragrance, extending to the distant homes,
Searches coyly for lovers’ zones.

      This photograph was taken in rural Nebraska near Lincoln by Jack Huber.

At the group called Wordmeisters, Poets and Writer-Unite on Ryze, they are having regular poetry contest every fortnight which will be on till thanks giving 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.

Mine was the runner-up entry, but the winner was A Picture Post Card


For your eyes, blue sky, green lawn
set for a colourful, breaking dawn;
water front, weather tower, cluster of cottages
all seem tied up as helpless hostages!

Copyright © 2010 by Manohar Bhatia

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

September is 'Be Kind to Writers and Poets' month

You people are nice
and very kind, I must say
forgive me if I don't
come to read your post each day
but whenever I visit and
read this forum's page
I go back with the sweet words
of encouragement each day
lets not confuse kindness
with weakness this way
just an invisible smile
I am sending virtually across this day
See it!
Don't miss it!
Look!
It’s coming your way
Hope you remember me
in your prayers just for today
remember
I am your friend in every topsy-turvy way!!

Most of the forums at Ryze I enjoy to read, specially because they have a personal touch to it and the most favorite for me is at 'Wordmeister, Writer and Poets Unite' and they told me today that September is ‘Be kind to writers and poets month’ and September 12th being the National day of Encouragement, I wrote this to my friends on that forum

City Blues - (Form - Sestina)

When she moved into my house she looked quite stupid
The way she walked, her head she always scratched
She would spend her time watching TV all day,
At night she would go club hopping in the big city
I had let her use my vacant cold attic
For which she paid me a handsome rent

Then one day she complained about the rent
Said it was much too high and stupid
To pay for a hole which was just an attic
She was disturbed by a cat who playfully scratched
On her window panes that overlooked the city
She had grabbed the cat and scared him one day

She argued with me and left in anger that day
Without paying out her six-month-overdue rent,
Went searching for accommodation in a new city
Unsuccessful, she checked into a hotel, how stupid!
Where mattresses were worn out, furniture all scratched
Soon she realized she was more comfortable in the attic

How does one compare a hotel room to an attic?
These thoughts niggled and troubled her mind all day
When suddenly she found a card and vigorously scratched
Hurrah! Figures that flashed were enough to pay the rent
But the lottery was fake and she felt so stupid
Once again she was homeless in the big strange city

It’s a lesson you learn when you live in a city
All flats have rooms that are smaller than an attic
Those who move out and migrate to new towns are stupid
When was it easy to find a good home in one day
That would be quite spacious and yet have lower rent
You may only find a house with walls fully scratched

Wasted much time, her budget was scratched
Life was getting difficult, she felt lost in the city
Returned back to my house and paid up the rent
Moved into the same ole vacant cold attic
I heard her make a promise to herself that day
Never would she complain about anything that was so stupid

I am happy with the rent, but her ego is scratched
She feels like a stupid soul lost in the city
Hiding in the attic on this warm summer day

This is my first attempt on F.O.R.M Sestina

Aero Car

The Aero Car
The green hills welcomes the giant aero car
That swings like a cradle on a tight roped strings
“Ole! Ole!” whistles the sky, trees and the breeze
While the happy blue sea gurgles out its frothy squeals

There was a contest on writing quatrain verse by looking at the picture and this was my feeble attempt on the picture, although the winner was

Ayub Bangroo’s ‘We and Desires’

Desires keep us hanging around
no matter how deep the fall
sun, sky and soothing sound
let us not ignore the call.
Copyright © 2010 by Ayub Bangroo

Runner-up: Diane Tegarden's Getting from Here to There

Hanging above swift rapids
the daredevils whoop with joy
the poets envision dangerous delights
and the common man simply sees it as another crossing.
Copyright © 2010 by Diane Tegarden

Your Non-Sensical Talks

The strict rules were made for you, not for me
Don’t bother showing me some sense in them, you see
Your sermons I flung them out of my window
They stank of old fashioned conservative ideas
Lets hope they don’t germinate like those that
Grew in Jack and Bean stalk tree
Imagine, if they did, the whole world would indulge
In senseless, useless talks
and you would be sorry for their misdeeds

This is written for Grandson of Godawful Poetry Fortnight

• Godawful Poetry Fortnight runs from the 19th to the 31st August.

• Our Patron Saint is William Wordsworth.

And he gets this signal honor for saying that poetry "is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." Way too many aspiring poets have rallied behind that banner, too few going so far as recollecting those emotions in tranquility, let alone reading the rest of the preface to Lyrical Ballads (which can be found on Bartleby, for those interested).

Links at http://zigzackly.blogspot.com/2010/08/grandson-of-godawful-poetry-fortnight.html%20, the event host.