I slept again
past the dutiful alarm
past the chirping birds
way beyond the slanting morning rays
slept with no dreams
like a log
like twisted vines
buried in the quilt
to shield the meddlesome light
if that’s a crime
feel free to sue me
but quietly please
don’t wake me
Do I love my Job?
A life to live
A job to do
to find a purpose
and meaning too
In that duration
in between the two
of the beginning and the end
I am glad I have a job to do
I love my job
I love what I do
for i am the instrument
of the divine in me and you
The golden onion #99wordstory
The eyes filled to the brim. The tears welled over. They were held back for long. She was preparing yet another ungrateful meal. Bruise on her arm hurt her less than the aching heart. The bruise she knew would heal. But the tear in heart would stay sore. She picked the onion, the golden one. It had a papery yellow-brown skin. But she knew that it held a juicy white flesh beneath. She took the sharpest knife. She wanted the perfect cut. She sliced with the practiced hand. The white flesh bled. Her happy tears mixed with the blood.
https://carrotranch.com/2023/02/27/february-27-story-challenge-in-99-words/
#99WordStory
If I could be someone else
If I could be someone else
who would that be
will there be flaws
or would it be the ideal
the perfect one, immaculate
or with blemishes and scars
what would I prefer
I do wonder
I think and realise
I would prefer
the one who tries
not for the day
but forever always
The divine Alignment
Heavenly bodies
floating in deep black
glowing bright
in reflected glory
Aligned apparently
in a single line
a divine spectacle
or a human perspective
myopic and restricted
trapped on a floating rock
making imaginary shapes
and spectacular stories
not true
yet more than true
grouted by law
in the confines of the rational
and flights of faith
seeking truth beyond the rational
coming together
in a divine alignment
The favourite drink
Rum or Vodka
or maybe some whiskey
a combination sometime
whatever seems risky
choice is irrelevant
of the favoured spirit
insobriety is the destination
with whatever means that’s legit
but it is not in the elixir
there lies the fun
it is in the arms
of the only one
Demure – yet not
Demure
She sits
None of the hair frayed
Flashs of colour
peeks through
The prim dull greys
The naughty and wild
Securely hidden
Reigning in the crave
What the cloths hide
what lies in the mind
The eyes betrays
#TankaTuesday #Ekphrastic #Poetry Challenge No. 308, 2/21/23
That, What is us
There it lies
Separated by time
and the wrinkled age
Still intact
In the warmth
of shared blood
In the resonating beats
Of the pining hearts
In the words and rhythm
Of our song
That, what is Us
My worn out Shoes
My worn out shoes
holds many memories
Embedded and buried
Deep within its weary sole
Witness and participant
In those resolute and thoughtful steps
Of the many tough treks
And some easy strolls
Scrapping the ground
Raising the dust
To propel me forward
to play my rightful role
It lays tattered
Wounded and battered
With Splayed stitches
And some ghastly holes
Yet comfortable
In a neat fit
Moulding and Moulded
The feet it snuggly holds
I often carry it proudly
And seldom in shame
It’s my skin
A part of my very whole
It has come to rub on me
As I have rubbed the me on it
We have become each other
As together we grow old
My worn out shoes
Are like me, I gather
Holding memories happy and sad
Deep within my very soul
Achu – The Mahout
My father turns 84. He celebrates the thousand full moons. He had a childhood dream of becoming a Mahout. He celebrates his 84th birthday with his wife who turns 75.
Achu
The young Mahout
Is all of 84
For this young heart
The age
Is just a mere score
Bathed fresh
In milky light of thousand moons
He is up for many more
Centre of attention
Full of charm
He is Always in the fore
A poster boy
Has a place in every heart
One that we all adore
All our worries
And our many frets
In him we could conveniently pour
A meticulous planner for Sure
But Till the job is done
He wouldn’t let out a snore
A patriarch now
His grand and dynamic legacy
Is kind of a lore
Of his large persona
We are a mere shadow
Every passing year he glows even more
Achu
The young Mahout
Is all of 84
Even today
To proudly sit on a tusker
He would be happy even more
My Tales Within 