Poem: I Read The News Today

I read the news today, oh boy
about a cheated man who left the game
and though the news was rather sad
and gruesome to say the least
I just had to laugh

They had found his note on the bed
it was soaked in his blood
“I did this for you, Love” it read
He had poured his heart out for her
this fella, must’ve been a romantic
the knife had hit his aorta
and he had died instantly

What made me laugh
Though ashamedly, I confess
was the Love’s comment
“He had a heart of stone”
This kind lady had told the press.

I sipped my morning cuppa
and moved on
to the next headline:
“Not just Kamla Harris, Joe Biden too
has Indian link”

© mjaydixit 2020

Posted over at dVerse — Poetics 428 — Poetry as witness

As if on cue

Shades of sunset on my window pane,
chirping birds are perched on the sill,
outside is still: Windless hot dusk.
I am sitting at my desk by the window,
watching tangerine clouds towering the neighborhood
and dripping wet clothes hanging on clothesline.

~As if on cue~

Here comes the faint sound of police siren
and the 6’o clock curfew warnings made on megaphone.
Sunset shades have faded from my window pane
and all the birds have flown.
Tangerine clouds have turned dull grey
and the wet clothes have stopped dripping.

Form used: puente

© MRITYUNJAY DIXIT, 2021. — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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Sunday Rainbow

When you come around
the rain bows down.
When you fall around
trees and lands and minds
like a bow bridging
heaven and humankind,
even the reigning sunshine
relatively feels jaded.
No one knows
from where you begin
or where you end.
No one really knows
where you come from
or where you go.
But please don’t leave me
when I get old,
you’re so refreshing
so sweet and cold
Sunday Rainbow.
Everchanging
wherever you go,
shooting colours
everywhere you go,
like arrows from a bow.
I’ll miss you to death
if you ever left
Sunday Rainbow.
Like love you’re undying
unlike us; who are dying all the time.
My mind leaps up when you come around
and ends up in a realm beyond
reality
and like Lazarus
I’m reborn.

A/N: In this poem, the muse of an artist is metaphorized as Sunday Rainbow. The poet holds his art of writing poetry very dearly and deems it as a rare thing, he also hopes he won’t lose it as time goes by.

Posted over at dverse: Poetics: Build a Bridge

~Mrityunjay Dixit

Revolution

calls for
strong resolution

revolution
calls for
acting on one’s
own voilition

revolution
calls for
ending phony allusions
to old generations,
breaking
illusion of evolution
and it’s the solution
to problem of
pollution

river or ocean
revel volution
of water
caused by evaporation
and make rain
Rain falls down
due to gravitation
when seasons change
due to
Earth’s
Revolution.

Ps: to ‘revel’ means to celebrate in lively and noisy way, ‘volution'(meaning rolling or revolving motion) is here used to depict the phenomenon of Water Cycle.

Also linked to dverse where merrildsmith is hosting tuesday poetics, prompt: Write a poem (in any form) about revolution.

Thanks for reading!

© dixitmrityunjay, 2020. September heart-to-hearts

Quadrille: Playing With Fire

You tasted sweet
Like that last sip of wine
But now you’re sour like vinegar.

You tortured me with lust
but today, honeybabe, I’m warning you–
don’t bother me anymore.

Don’t you play with my mind now, babe.
‘Cuz you’ll be playing with fire.

44 words

posted over at Dverse Quadrille: Come “bother” up a poem

~Mrityunjay Dixit

Noisy Neighbours

Finding the in
to a story in mind
is half the pleasure
of writing.
From where
should it begin?

It's raining heavy outside
he has closed the door
switched off his devices
and is trying to get in
the flow
but failing.
The neighbours 
had twin daughters
two years ago
and they're growing up fast
they're growing big thorns
straight up into his ass
"children make noise
get over it"
their parents say 
everytime he complains
which is almost everyday
The hell of it is
they don't sleep at night
which is his time to write
they sleep at daytime
when he's away
waitering
at Burger King.

Tonight they're crying
louder than ever
he can even hear
some adults groaning
and bawling like babies
He's losing it
those haters 
they don't want me to succeed
he presses his hands
tightly against his ears
gets up and screams
at the top of his lungs
"Shut the fuck up assholes
I'm trying to write a fucking
story in here"
the sounds from outside
the distractions
subside

Next morning
as he's getting ready
he reads the local news
on his mobile
Last night
Due to heavy rainfall
A tree got uprooted
and snapped the
electricity line
One of his neigbours
had also died
the mother of the twins
She was electrocuted
when a live wire 
fell on her
as she was coming home
from work.

Well at least
he got a good story
out of it
He'll find the in
at the Burger King
he's already getting late.

Breaking The Illusion of Happiness (a sonnet)

I look behind the wall of illusion
At you all lost and death-fearing souls
Your breathing impaired by hurt emotions
And your minds tainted by your tyrant’s goals.

You’re enslaved by your perverted free will
Committed to do the deeds you regret
As you abandon the things that really fill
Your hearts with love and your minds with right rest.

When you will break the wall and look within
You will see there’s a world where souls are free
Where you’re free to change the flow of living
And to share your love like air from a tree.

You’ll find peace like calm that sets after rain
A reparation, A way, give any name.

~Mrityunjay Dixit

When I Walk.. (a sonnet)

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Sonnet XVIII, William Shakespeare

When I walk upon this sandy sea shore,
Leaving behind the prints of my bare feet,
Got nowhere to go; not a single chore,
Then I begin to collect your piece.

Like footprints on the sand; you're fleeting too,
Fleeting like this sunset at horizon,
I try to draw you; knowing I'll lose you
like sand through hands. You're dancing on and on.

Dancing so swiftly on the Nature's beat,
Blackbirds follow you but you dance not caring,
Hands waving free; silhouetted by the sea,
My feet are getting wet as the tide comes in.

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
so long lives this and this gives life to thee.

~Mrityunjay Dixit

The Turtle’s Smooth Shell

I imagine a turtle
drawing its limbs
inside its smooth shell
in fear, is it like that?
When we hide our senses
inside our insecurities–
smooth on the surface
but a beautiful mess underneath?

image

posted over at dverse

~Mrityunjay Dixit

Flash Fiction: Heartbreak

If you are a dreamer, come in.

 Invitation, Shel Silverstein

James was a 21-year old undergrad with literary aspirations, occasional suicidal ideations and a broken heart. She didn’t deserve him. It had taken three months to come to that conclusion but you know that old saw; better late than never.

Stuck to his bedroom door was the following quote, “If you are a dreamer, come in.” He was a big John Lennon fan and so was she or at least she pretended to be, who knows?

They had met in the freshman year and were inseparable for two years. His heart still ached with the memory of their third date. That night he had lost his virginity. They both had came together.

Posted over at dverse

~Mrityunjay Dixit