What you do

With that.

Lay it

Someplace high

Don’t let it be stomped upon

Its precious secrets squashed

Spread all over the road

For all to see

Yet don’t hold it too high

Or it may topple over


Millions of dearly held dreams

All over the pavement

Where he walks

Crushing its every beat

With the harsh tread

Of his heavy heartless feet

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Careful.”


The Lonely God

Here I sit upon the hill

Where I was placed so long ago

With rituals, ceremonies

And immense pomp and show

Much feared and celebrated

Everything  that happened  attributed to my ‘divine’ will

Bathed, anointed, glorified, so revered

That I lost sight of my own flaws, my innate failings

Each day I was inundated

With requests and with pleas

“A little more money”; “A good job”

“Please god some peace!”

 I looked on helplessly

Wondering at the irony

Of men with brains and limbs

Begging from a ‘stone’ like me

I ‘left’ them to their fate

The human race

To hunger, to pine , to starve,

To cry, to die, destroy and hate

They bore it stoically waiting for the ‘miracle’

Their eyes  blind with devotion just couldn’t see

The paradox of my creators

Relying on a ‘miracle’ from me

For long they bided for me to reveal my ‘holy’ plans

But when it finally seeped into their rhetoric drugged minds

Nothing could make me act

Not gifts, nor sacrifice, no amount of time

They left…

Their belief though vast turned out to be but finite

Their love though copious turned out to have a limit

Their patience though immense was tested

On the day when they could take my indifference no longer

When just seeing my stony face wasn’t enough

When the promise of a future heaven was no longer sufficient

They stopped coming

The children, men and women

In that order they fled

The priest hung on for a little while more

The  look he gave me as he went beseeching…

As if to say  I am going too! now!

At least now take an action; prove you exist

Prove that the dreams I showed those people were real

Show that you care; that you are really there

That we are your children

And that you are in control of our lives

I remained silent

Stonily I watched as he too left

Now I sit alone ; Perched on my throne

Surrounded by the paraphernalia of their dead faith

A faith I didn’t deserve

A faith I didn’t demand

A faith that was thrust upon me

By the  statue maker’s hands

A faith that expected  miracles

From a piece of ‘stone’

A faith that absolved

Them of their own indolent ways

and hateful deeds

I can’t say I don’t miss them

Those faithfuls who called me ‘God’

The endless chants of ‘devotion’

Their long list of demands

Here I sit upon the hill

Forgotten and forlorn

I once had a crowd of  followers

And then I was ‘alone’

Writing 201 – Day 7

Prompt:Neighborhood                 Form: Ballad                   Device: Assonance

writing 201

My skin

Finally caught up! the last from the pending assignments of week one.
Prompt: skin         Form: prose      Device: internal rhyme

It tells me all I need to know – My skin. That person there, sitting on the back seat pretending he is fast asleep. He is a creep it screams with goosebumps . And that one right there – the one with the innocent boyish smile. That one needs to be feared. Yes the smile is genuine but it has a power, power to make you weak. A weakness that you do not need. Not now! Not ever! It tells me with a shiver. My skin – it speaks, It speaks of times gone by. It speaks of tenderness and care. The touch of my mother. So long ago, the memory barely there. And yet it remembers. Somewhere in its blemished, calloused folds – it remembers and craves. Craves not in a pounding, throbbing way but in a duller subtler way. Like an ache so mild that I do not realize it exists until it dissipates. For a moment. For a moment, when you lie next to me , your baby – soft , dimpled skin touching my limp, lined one. It tells me , it is whole again and luminescent and unrestrained. My skin – It overflows, expands, heaving little sighs of happiness. The knots untie, the bruises heal and the years of craving are fulfilled. My skin – it becomes perfect –  just for a moment right there!

writing 201


Still playing catch up. Day Two:

Prompt: Gift  Form: Acrostic   Device: Simile



Silently her solemn eyes convey

Her inner strife

At six she has already seen the

Macabreness of life

Ending her innocence with a gift she didn’t ask for



Not been able to weave in a simile.






writing 201

The Veil

I am trying to catch up.

Day 1 of Writing 201: Poetry – Prompt : Screen ; Form: Haiku; Device : Alliteration


Vilely, I call her name

Her valiant eyes defy me

Through the vigilant veil

Vilely, I call her name

Her virtuous eyes deny me

Through the vigilant veil

I love the economy of Haiku and am amazed by the way changing a couple of words changes the essence of the verse.


writing 201

Trying my hands at ‘Limericks’ – Writing 201

I have signed up for Writing 201: Poetry and though I am starting out four days late I intend to catch up! Here is assignment for day Four.  Prompt: Imperfect  ; Form: Limerick ;  Device: Enjambment.

I have always enjoyed limericks but never ever attempted to write one. Have written four for this assignment. Though the last line is two in ‘Clueless in Wakaloo” and “Bookworm’s Choice”.


Imperfect Me

Too short,  too thin

my crooked nose, my clumsy chin

Broadcasting to all

my many faults

Does putting me down make you win?


Perfect World

Song-less birds, Leaf-less trees

Fragrance – less flowers, Sting-less bees

Skies without white puffy clouds

Young minds devoid of  doubts

Anomalies – I wish never to see


Clueless in Wakaloo

Once an old man from Honaloo

Walked a thousand miles to Wakaloo

But when he got  there

He was filled with despair

Why he had traveled; he hadn’t a clue


A Bookworm’s Choice

There was once a bookworm named Ted

He loved to eat his breakfast in bed

Happily he gobbled on Stephen King

Rowley, Hemingway & Charles Dickens

Biting into Plath; he requested some Rumi instead

I would appreciate any tips and advice from seasoned poets.


There’s a part in my heart

that sings ding-a-ling-a-ling

it says it misses everything

the joy, laughter & friendly baits

hushed conversations, impatient waits.

There’s a part of my heart

that’s forever an optimist

it draws suns, rainbows and endless bridges

this part goes rap-a-tap-tapa-a-tap-a-tap

how bad can it be?

another chance another dance

this is the only life I have you see

I am holding down this part

stifling it making sure its never free

some black holes swallow

the brightest suns

and unlike what  some wise men say

following ones heart doesn’t always pay.

Too many truths

There is my truth
And then there is yours
You believe in yours
Even though I know mine
Is the only one
That exists
Which one of us is lying
Maybe neither.
There is no one truth
Only what we believe
Or even
What we wish to believe
In this tussle
Of truth, beliefs and wishes
Wishes always win
Or maybe they always lose
Either ways
I feel defeated.

One of those days

There are days when everything seems wrong
There’s no solace in the sweetest songs
These days don’t come often
But when they do
Would you think me selfish god
If I come looking for you
You know me god
You know I am true
It’s just this
That I don’t often come to you
It’s not because I don’t believe
Infact it may be that
I believe too much in you
I believe you exist in everything
See everything I do
I hope today god
I hope my belief is true
Cause today is one of those days gods
One of the days I need you