Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Beneath a broken roof

A broken roof overhead,
All I have;
All I can afford,
Rest for night under
The starlit sky;
Huddled warmth
For the wintery woes;
Rain running showers
For the bath,
And
Baking sunshine
For the light;
No bag of pearls
To please my dame;
A handful of dough
All I make;
My toil is hard
But
Then its all I know.
Skin is rough,
Caked up too;
Clothes are drenched,
Damp with sweat;
Body,
Reeking of many
Repulsive odours
But
In my heart,
I am clean and pure.
You look at me
From
Your costly car.
I wonder,
What you see through that glass,
Tinted darker than the night?
You snub at that begging child;
His touch smearing
You shimmering car.
You roll up window,
And drive away.
I give him a ride
On
My rickety cart,
Thinking all the while,
Is that all you have,
All you can afford?

Linking with VisDare 48 : Beneath

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Insomnia

Tip tip tip, tip tip.
Again.
Leak in the bathroom,
Resonant in silent night.
Incessant notes,
Inspired insomnia,
Amply aided
By
Numb limbs and cold quilt.
Peeped out of
Fluffy contours,
Cold dark room
Stared at her.
Checked her mobile;
Missed her Orpat alarm-clock,
With radium glow for night
(So very convenient);
Checked her call-list,
(Had dialed
Home
At 10:58P.M.
Three hours ago);
Scanned her messages
(Sighed, SMS era had ended)
Deleted, Read, Reread;
Played Sudoku,
Lost lives in Diamond Rush,
Entered Farmville,
Ploughed, sowed,
Planted a rose,
Milked a cow.
And finally kipped,
Only to wake up at cockcrow.

Monday, February 10, 2014

Iron-man

He went there.
Daily.
Unfailingly.
His conversations,
Candid,
Intimate.
And why not!
He had
Inspired
That iron-man,
She had crafted it
In anger.
So daily,
He stood there.
Solitary,
But,
Somehow,
Not lonely.

Linking with Trifextra : Week 102
Linking with VisDare 45 : Scrutiny

Photo Courtesy : Visual Dare

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Rooted

Immobile.
Not because
Of the shoe-bites,
Though
They hurt like hell
And
She could just about
Feel the peeling skin
She goes
Any further
And the tender wounded spot
Might actually
Start oozing.
But that was
The last thing
That made her
Stay.
Lonely
In the
Milling crowd.
Her train of thoughts
Tore her.
If only she could
Manipulate
Her heart
In tandem with
Her head.
Let go of
That fleeting glance.
She stood there
Between
Flickering hope
And
Wavering emotions.
Her red coat
Gathered
Snow flakes.
Overhead,
The falcons flew home.
Slowly,
His
Retreating carriage
Hid in the
Mist.

Linking with Trifecta : Week 111