No Getting Away

Danger at the doors of people
And all the heroes now are hung
Snipers positioned on the steeple
Danger at the doors of people
Influential liars with guns pointed at peepholes
Son, tomorrow no victory songs would be sung
Danger at the doors of people
And all the heroes now are hung.

The form loosely resembles a Triolet

Posted over at dverse. For today’s prompt: Opening lines..Beginnings

M. Jay Dixit, 2021

Poem: A Spring Rain

There is no friend as loyal as a book.

Ernest Hemingway
Rain came down
so swiftly
it blew a bird away.
Anyways, afterwards it was calm.
No trees swayed.
I was sitting in the doorway
reading Hemingway
when I saw
down the muddy alleyway
a finicky runaway cat
disgusted by spring rain
coming my way.

44 Words

Posted over at dverse, where Lisa is hosting. Prompt: Today we have to write a poem of exactly 44 words and we must use the word “way” in it.

M. Jay Dixit, 2021

5 poems, 13 words each

5 + 13 = 18: 8 + 1 = 9
(9 is a lucky number!)

Hello fellow bloggers and readers,
After getting inspired by Ingrid over at EIF, I decided to try twitter poetry! It is a new experience for sure, the twitter community is not.. how should I put it eh.. as ‘supportive’ as WordPress..hmm well that I guess would be a hard word.. but it’s true when compared to this awesome community. There, if you are a beginner poet and you write a good poem and you “hashtag it” with all the right tags even then the chances are slim of it getting a lots of “hearts” and even if it does, you don’t feel that fun connection with the community like you do over here.

However, I find that if you participate in poetry challenges, which are usually prompts that are updated everyday, then your poems get much more exposure. For a week I have taken part in 3 challenges. Everyday I write one poem (that is #ApoemAday challenge by Ingrid but she’s cool even if you don’t post everyday and ain’t that sweet!) of exactly 13 words (that is #Poetryin13 challenge, duh! but there’s a twist) including 2 prompt words (which are from #Poetryin13 and #vss365).

So far, I am liking it. It’s like doing brain gymnastics. Here are the poems and I hope you enjoy them! Please feel free to give feedback/advice 🙂

Prompt words: “Shadow” and “Merrily”
Prompt words: “Blossom” and “Filter”
Prompt words: “Micromanaging” and “Stigma”
Prompt words: “Enthusiasm” and “Euphoria”
Prompt words: “Obstacle” and “Telepathy”

Deadly Combination

A very short story.

Todd is a twenty-five years old taxi driver with literary aspirations. He possesses an old ford, 3 pairs of jeans and a broken heart with a weakness for whisky and weed. 

Sweet huh?

These nights he gets drunk and stoned in the earnest. No one to stop him now, not anymore.

#

The clunker ford’s rear-view mirror reflects the morning sun’s slanting rays into Todd’s eyes, rousing him out of sleep. 

He moans and covers his bloodshot eyes with a hand—they’ve turned into twin magnifying glasses and will soon set his brain on fire. His mouth tastes as if a cat used it as a potty pot and his bones—

With the other hand he rummages in the glove compartment and takes out his blue horse notebook—’Sometimes, the great bones of my life feel so heavy‘, he writes down, feeling sceptical but satisfied.


144 words
Prompt line: “Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy” from Spring Azures from the book Wild Geese by Mary Oliver
Posted over at Dverse: OLN

M. Jay Dixit, 2021.

Tanka #3

On an old Neem tree
Whose trunk is black and sooty
Sits a lone white dove.
If only I could repair
my wings and fly to find love.

Posted over at EIF where Ingrid is hosting Tanka challenge!

What is a Tanka?

A Tanka is a Japanese form of poetry. It has five lines and thirty-one syllables in 5/7/5/7/7 format, giving a complete picture of an event or mood. It has an ‘upper’ and ‘lower’ element, and a ‘turn’ from the former to the latter.

M. Jay Dixit, 2021

400+ Followers!

Hello fellow bloggers and readers, September Heart-to-hearts just crossed 400 followers! I am so glad that I didn’t stop blogging. I was going to, you know and I almost did around ‘September’ last year, yeah I know, the irony of it!

I had special plans for that month poetry–related but when it finally came and I realized I was turning 21 and I pictured myself graduating from my college in a few months, with no job in hand and my preparation for GATE exam (Graduate Aptitude Test of Engineering) was also getting nowhere, I got depressed. I began to question my life choices and thought why do I even bother with poetry, it’s not like I am getting any rich by writing?

The exam is on the 14th of Feb. I have just over a month to revise and prepare the little stuff that I know. I am not going to ace the exam this time, that’s something I do know for sure. I also don’t want to compromise on the job/Masters University like I did with my college. So that leaves me with the final option of taking the year off for study and give my exam in 2022.

Sometimes I feel torn, it’s not that I don’t like my studies, I haven’t flunked in any of the subjects, professors like me and all but I fear something I dunno, it’s a weird feeling. I’ll plan out my days till the exam , starting from tomorrow. 6 hours of planned study would be sufficient–seeing, right now I only study 2-4 hours, I know that 6 hours will be good.

I am NOT going to stop writing nor I am going to stop playing my guitar or do my morning runs. Those are the things that make me happy. I’d have to stop reading novels and watching TV though. I can do that.

This rambling post was a part self help note to myself, I guess. I’ve never taken a year off and staying at home another year after 2020, is gonna take a toll on me, I just know that.

In the end, I’d like to thank you all for always being there for me even when I was not there for you. I’ve made great friends in this community. Friends that inspire me, friends that make me laugh, friends that help me see things in new light, I am grateful to this community. Lots of love and take care.

Rain Falling Down — Square Poem

Rain falling down on railroad tracks,
Falling drops in platform above gutter.
Down in gutter--a rat bathing,
On platform, a man is eating.
Railroad above rat is now shaking,
Tracks gutter, bathing eating, shaking waiting.

It is ‘not’ a ‘Classic’ square poem because those poems should have the number of syllables per line equal to the number of lines. Rather, mine’s a Carrol Square poem.

While you can read the lines in the normal way i.e. horizontally, the poem can also be read in columns. Either way, the poem reads exactly the same!

Lewis Carrol was a genius mathematician and great poet, in this poetry form he has embedded his knowledge of Matrix. Carroll created a 6×6 square poem, but it can be done with any length.

I Often Wondered by Lewis Carrol

I often wondered when I cursed,
Often feared where I would be –
Wondered where she’d yield her love
When I yield, so will she.
I would her will be pitied!
Cursed be love! She pitied me…

It’s pretty easy to do this with random, nonsensical words. The amazing thing is that each line of the poem does make sense – with a bit of mental gymnastics – and the poem hangs together pretty well as a whole.

I found out about Square poems when I was going through an old (and by old, I mean VERY) dverse post by Samuel Peralta here is the link to it.

When I was ‘going’ to college (I mean before the Lockdown days) I used to commute daily. I never thought I’d miss that part of my life but I do. In the evening when I was coming back home, more often than not–the train was late and more often than not–I was alone. So I used to observe the people, the tracks and stuff until the train came. I loved playing the role of an artist (at the time I wasn’t into poetry that much but I was beginning to get into it). Rain Falling Down must’ve come from there.

M. Jay Dixit, 2021

Garbage Painter

'Why you smell so awful
like someone took a shit on you'
I asked my brother 
when he came back 
after taking out
the trash
as it was his turn today
The garbage man seemed to be
on a permanent holiday
he was taking the lockdown
too seriously

So my brother walked down to the slum
in the hot summer heat
where there was a garbage dumpster
On the way there he told me
he slipped on a piece of paper
and fell down
with all the trash over him
A rotten apple hit him
in his closed mouth 
and he puked

After disposing the garbage
and spewing his breakfast
in the dumpster 
he bent down
to look for the piece of paper
it was a painting
it showed a kid
climbing his way from the darkness
towards the Sun
The poor kid's mom probably thought
it was trash
when she found it littered
inside their small slum home

My brother picked it up
rolled it into a ball
and threw it in the dumpster
'another garbage painter'
he muttered
and came 
home

Inglenook

Dawn breaks
Winter fog
Down the street
Dogs bark
at dawn birds’
Chirpy songs
of morning.

There’s still
No trace
of morning
Out my window
Just the sound
of my lovers’
Boot heels
Wandering.

Lonesome
as the Moon
of morning
I wait
in Inglenook.

44 words

Posted over at dverse: OLN

M.Jay Dixit, 2021

Haibun: Bittersweet New Year

Fifteen years old and waking up on a new year’s morning to the tap-tap of rain on the roof and tick-tock of family clock on the wall of the dining room. Saying little prayers before meal on a table filled with family and singing old songs together after dessert.

This new year I didn’t hear the sweet melody of rain nor the harmony of clock. Just the howling of cold mountain winds and the silence of stationary hands as I got up and went to the bathroom of my bachelor’s apartment. The cracked toilet seat bit me in my thigh, I missed my friendly bathroom and my mother’s pie.

In the evening as I was walking up to my door, I remember thinking of wanting to go home when I saw a familiar black guitar-shaped case leaning on my door with lots of mail stamps posted on it. I smiled as I walked in with my old guitar in one hand, closed the door behind me with the other, put the case by the bed, took out new batteries from the drawer for my wall clock and changed them and then tuned my guitar to play some oldies, the smile never left my face.

The time has flown away:
Talking with an old friend
Bittersweet new year

M Jay Dixit, 2021

Posted over at dverse: Happy New Year

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