Grip

Slow down, there’s a lot left for you

Within the maze of your hazy life

It’s hard to see right now, I know

When everyday is the same as the one before

Try to remember that things will change

Nothing stays the same forever

You will find some grip soon enough

There is still time, or so I hope.

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A full moon- Long verse

The moon shines blue in the eerie night

Crickets croak in mellifluous delight

Pitter patter falls the rain on the window pane

A little boy watches it all: curious, wide-eyed

The moon radiates its bright white light

He jumps in puddles with all his might

Giggles at the mess he’s made of his dress

Could he be any naughtier, his tired mama sighs.

The moon hides behind a dark gray cloud

He’s busy with his friends, the football crowd

Joking, laughing, trying hard to fit in

He’s finding his feet, standing his ground.

The moon is a crescent with a star by its side

He’s enthralled by her beauty, his heart can’t deny

Legs turn to jelly, can’t say anything right

Why is love so awkward, he desperately cries.

The moon is a circle cut right in half

Making a name for himself, he’s working so hard:

He runs the rat race to bell the fat cats.

Meanwhile, his wife is his guiding North star:

They embark on a new journey they cautiously chart.

The moon shines blue this eerie night

Crickets croak in mellifluous delight

He holds his little son close to the window pane

And he watches, as his father did;

Curious, wide-eyed.

 

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Six

You smile every time you sneeze

Rub your little feet together

Cry when I dare put you down

Shout at toys to come closer

You have mastered rolling over

Find your hands so fascinating

They’re always in your mouth

And boy, you sure love drooling

You kick the toy piano so hard

Nod your head along to the music

I can’t believe you’re six months already

Stay my baby a little longer!

 

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Western Pullman

 

A shelf for your Western Pullman
Lovers in clear glass domes

Minimal furniture, comfortable beds
Bright curtains with light shining through

White walls and wide open spaces,
Our two little ones running around
Toys strewn in their coloured playroom,
Feet scampering, tumbling, fighting.

The smell of prawns cooked Kerala style
Wafting from a cosy warm kitchen
Smiles, laughter and little giggles
Just us two when they go down for the night.

This is the home that I dream of for us-
The one we will some day have.

 

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Stranger

Hello stranger

How have you been

You’re more salt than pepper

Yes, my age lines run deeper

Funny how we’d talk for hours

Now, words are few and far in between

Two galaxies that spun out of their trajectories

There’s just no getting closer.

Old friend, what have your eyes seen

So many years have passed beneath our feet

Spouses, children, houses and obligations

We’re not the free birds we used to be.

We stand here quietly grasping

Like time travellers thrown down a rabbit hole

You remind me of the person I used to be

It’s not the most comforting feeling

Have I evolved or lost the real me?

We dawdle, smiling awkwardly

Exchange polite niceties

And try to get the hell out of there

Back to our paths that never meet.

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Seasoned

The bittersweet tang of sticky marmalade

Swayed lightly on her toasted tongue

She glared at the tall wardrobe in the corner

Nothing was right in this gingerbread house-

It was all an ugly emotionless sham!

Bang!

Orange jelly wiggled on her shiny steel spoon

As she killed an afternoon fly quite mercilessly:

An innocent victim of her chronic bad mood.

She mourned its death quite piteously.

Struggling to banish this petulant attitude,

She chanted “liberosis” waving her arms about

What a strange spell for a witch so seasoned

And how curious that she not use her magic wand.

Dear Readers,

This has been a response to Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #152 after a very long time !

Our instructions were as follows:

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

The words can appear in an alternate form

Use the words in any order that you like.

1. Lightly

2. House

3. Petulant (adj.)) moved to or showing sudden, impatient irritation, especially oversome trifling annoyance)

4. Liberosis ((n.) the desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.)

5. Tall

6. Banish

7. Officer

8. Afternoon

9. Kill

10. Marmalade

11. Wardrobe

12. Attitude

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

The words can appear in an alternate form

Use the words in any order that you like.

 

 

gingerbreadhouse

 

 

Summer shades

Dip your toes in chilly waters

Watch them wrinkle, stark snow white

Relentless sun chars our tired brown faces

In the peak of summer, there’s no respite.

Sweat drips from every brow in the kitchen

A mighty effort for a meal so light

Icecream, the solace for us poor children

Add some mango for pure delight!

Our precious plants at the window wither

When will rains anoint their shriveled leaves?

Oh lets not think of monsoons in April,

Let the seasons change when they will.

 

summer

Nostalgia – Free verse

Where is home?

The place you stay in

Or the one you visit

Is it a loved one’s arms

Or a corner of their heart?

A bowl of mutton stew

With soft fluffy appams

The scent of jasmine

On a dewy monsoon morning

Squishy mangoes in summer

Angry ants in their leaf nests

Home is in the memories

The ones you turn into a poem

When you’re thirty and wonder

Where is it that I really fit in?

 

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The other side- Tanka x2

A dark storm raged on

Within a joyful facade

Who knows what comes next?

Unpredictability:

The driving force of this life

On the other side

There’s no more endless waiting

Life’s river flows calm

Goodness and light reign supreme

Peace eternal, till we meet.

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Dear Readers,

Today’s poem is written in the Tanka style. The Tanka is a Japanese style of poetry, which has the following syllable count:

1st line : 5 syllables

2nd line: 7 syllables

3rd line: 5 syllables

4th line: 7 syllables

5th line: 7 syllables

What did you think of this style of poetry?

What do you think of this poem?

Let me know in the comments!

Till next time.