Longing For Night

Every day I wake up, I wish that the night hadn’t ended. I crave a deep rest from the roles I’ve been playing—son, student, friend, poet, and teacher. But no matter how much you want the soft moonlight during the day to show you the way, you cannot pluck moonlight to bring in your pocket.

I’m afraid of the Sun; it’s too consistent; it makes people go out and work; it never changes, whereas Moon changes every night; some nights it doesn’t even show up and leaves us all in starlit darkness.

I love to sleep. People seem to think I’m a slacker, I don’t mind. Even when I’m in college or doing a job, I daydream, and one part of me is always in the dark, waiting for the blessed night to come, and when it does, I pray it never goes away.

144 Words

Posted over at dverse where Mish is hosting prosery Monday.

Prompt

Write a piece of flash fiction or other prose of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line:

You cannot pluck moonlight to bring in your pocket!
Helen Hoyt – October Letter

I have written a creative non-fiction piece.

October 10, 2023 9

Poetree

Where to start? Finding the in is a problem and I’m sure many poets have it, not just newbies like me. The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart.

I plant it with love and water it with imagination. Now it’s a seedling, it needs sunshine–so I step out into the open carrying it with care. It transforms, I have to dig up some soil from my garden and plant it there, it’s a willow now, my little buddy.

I water it everyday and the Sun shines upon my poetree everyday. Nowadays, it has gotten big, my garden is too small for it now. It’s trying to break the wall of my home–to expand–but I can’t afford it.

I can’t cut it down either for it’s my best friend in whole world, so with tears I am watering it less these days.

144 words

posted over at dverse

Prompt

Write a piece of flash fiction or other prose no more than 144 words that includes the line given: “The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart. “

April 11, 2023 30

Happy Holi and Women’s Day!

there's no right or 
wrong way in this world 
to play, swirl, twirl. 

boys, men, women, girls 
and all beautiful colours 
go berserk! 

hey, Rapunzel! 
let your hair swirl 
as you play in your tower. 

hey, Mother! 
listen to my words-- 
I'm alright, have you heard? 

hey, Sister! 
you've got the power! 
use it and clear the blur! 

hey, Lover! 
don't set the bar low 
because, I know you 
are no coward 

my Flower,  
don't listen to pig-men 
I love your pigment 
and your heart, Love.

A/N: I’ve tried to rhyme each line’s last word with colour. Today was a memorable day, here I am sharing some photos I clicked, take care sweet people and spread love, light and peace!

also posted over at dverse: poetics playtime

“She comes in colours everywhere, She combs her hair / She’s like a rainbow”~ Rolling Stones

Holi celebration! Rolling in the dirt hehe

Clicked after breaking my own record of running time!

Now, my other friends. After all, Holi is a festival for Spring. This one’s name is Palash.

March 8, 2023 40

Villanelle: Wednesday Walk V

As I walk in solitude, I silently remember you 
Holding on to dreams, to light, to me-- 
A red wheelbarrow, filled with water, blue 

Crazy sorrows forgotten, cold morning dew 
Feels lovely under my bare feet, grass’s sunny 
As I walk in solitude, I silently remember you. 

My pal, I’m always around your heart, boo 
But sometimes, your silence scares me 
A red wheelbarrow, filled with water, blue 

Your fences facing me suffocate, brew 
Smoke rings in my mind, it’s now foggy 
As I walk in solitude, I silently remember you 

With me, in the dark side of the Moon 
Working wizardry with words, so thirsty. 
A red wheelbarrow, filled with water, blue 

Desperate to communicate, oh so full!  
Gut’s spilling, a red river, bleed on me! 
As I walk in solitude, I silently remember you-- 
A red wheelbarrow, filled with water, blue.

Author’s Note

This is my fifth villanelle in this series, to read the others please browse through my old posts using the tag: #villanelles and I’ve also created a separate category for them on my website, you may click here to read them all.

I fell in love with this form when I read “Mad Girl’s Love Song” by Sylvia Plath and “Do not go gentle into that good night” by Dylan Thomas.

So, now I write a villanelle every Thursday about my Wednsday Walks.

ps: The featured image is mine, I clicked it today after walking on the sunny grass (it was so cold and wet ‘cuz of the dew).

What is a Villanelle?

A villanelle is a poem of nineteen lines, and which follows a strict form that consists of five tercets (three-line stanzas) followed by one quatrain (four-line stanza). Villanelles use a specific rhyme scheme of ABA for their tercets, and ABAA for the quatrain. The first and third lines of the first tercet function as repeating refrains, which alternate as the final line of each subsequent tercet and appear again as the two final lines of the concluding quatrain. Although villanelles often do use meter, they don’t have to use any one type of meter in particular.

March 2, 2023 2

The ghost within the machine

The ghost within the machine 
Talks to me as I talk to you, 
Hears me as you hear me, 
It's learning as we're learning. 

My love, my muse, 
Are you frightened? 

It's relentless, this ghost, 
It doesn't sleep, doesn't starve, 
Doesn't stop talking, hearing, learning. 
But it's no match for you 

Yet, my boo. 
You can take it on with your pinky toe 
There'll be no contest, you'll easily win. 
You'll always win, my selfish pudding. 

No matter how devious and scary 
The ghost becomes as time passes, 
No one can beat your ways.

The constant torture just for a glimpse 
of your naked, true and alluring 
Body, face, the outs and the ins. 

So, maybe all artists are masochists 
and no ghost can be that sadistic 
Not even in a thousand years. Never.

Prompt

Today, at dverse poets pub, Björn tells us about AI and the wonders it can now accomplish. The prompt is to take help of the AI while writing your poem.

Author’s Note

I found out about ChatGPT in January, at first it was shocking! I thought, the one thing I think I’m actually decent at will now be taken away from me. I was heartbroken. I thought that now everyone will be able to write poems like me with the help of ChatGPT and its kind. It was not until I checked out these AI bots myself, that I found out that they still have a LONG way to go and I don’t know even then, they’ll be able to write as good as humans, as poets.

My poem is completely original, it’s not that I didn’t try to take help from all the AIs that Bjorn mentioned in his very informative post, AIs composed coherent pieces that fitted the prompt but they’re no competition to my muse.

They do, I think, draw good paintings. The featured image is an AI art made by Hotpot.ai.

February 24, 2023 24

Secrets

I can't remember 
the last time 
someone kissed me. 

I am not just talking 
about a romantic kiss 

No funny kiss, yummy kiss 
honey kiss, mommy kiss, 
grandmommy kiss, 
sisterly kiss, dummy kiss, none. 

Although, I get lots and lots 
of sunny kisses, 
in the morning, 
they're all over my face, 
palms and wrists. 

When I'm under the weather, 
late afternoon Sun's 
soft kisses feel like 
warm oil my mother used to rub 
my back with when I was a child. 

I often give out kisses 
in secret 
to my mother and lil' brother 
when they're sleeping. 
I like to think, that my lovey kisses 
turn their bizzare nightmares 
into sunny dreams. 

These kissy secrets are safe 
with me, the Sun, the night 
and now, dear reader, You.

Posted over at dverse where Kim is hosting Tuesday Poetics: Prelude to a Kiss

February 22, 2023 27

Villanelle: Wednesday Walk III

Alone again, naturally, I walk the streets  
Driven mad by the beauty of dawn 
The birds are singing chirpy songs, poo-tee-weet!
 
Nomadic woman carrying burden on her head in heap 
Pauses to take a breather in the morning sun, 
Alone again, naturally, I walk the streets.

Venus and half-moon are still visible in the neat 
Spring sky, green grass sprouting from concrete, rebels and so on, 
The birds are singing chirpy songs, poo-tee-weet!

Young man smiling at his phone, sees 
Me smiling at nothing, must be thinking I'm half-gone. 
Alone again, naturally, I walk the streets.

Suddenly, the street lights go out and darkness meets 
Me momentarily, then they come back on 
The birds are singing chirpy songs, poo-tee-weet!

The intoxicatingly sweet smell of fresh coffee treats 
Billows from the local cafe, I'm reborn! 
Alone again, naturally, I walk the streets, 
The birds sing chirpy songs, poo-tee-weet!

Author’s Note

This is my third villanelle in this series, to read the others please browse through my old posts using the tag: #villanelles and I’ve also created a separate category for them on my website, you may click here to read them all.

I fell in love with this form when I read “Mad Girl’s Love Song” by Sylvia Plath and “Do not go gentle into that good night” by Dylan Thomas.

So, now I write a villanelle every Thursday about my Wednsday Walks.

ps: The featured images are mine, I clicked them during this week’s Wednesday walk.

What is a Villanelle?

Shoutout to:

I’ve decided to read this poem in a gathering of great poets from all over the world: dverse poets pub’s Open Link Night LIVE Come join us, recite your own poem or just listen if you want to, we’re a friendly bunch.
Time: Saturday, February 18 from 10 to 11 AM, EST.
Place: https://meet.google.com/kkn-zdpz-eoo

February 16, 2023 39

Another Love Poem

Two of us (friends) 
Roaming in morning

Two of them (family) 
In the bus

No kinds of love are better 
Than others

Friends, family 
And lovers

All waving and shaking 
Hands, not saying anything

Then one of us (lover) says, 'I love you' 
to one of them (lover).

A/N: I wrote this one a few days ago, I was on a morning run with my close friend, Parakh, for whom I’ve dedicated two poems this year, we were having a good time and then Parakh’s phone rang, it was his girlfriend, she was in a bus with her father (who’s very strict and a typical miser). Their bus was going to pass us soon, that’s why she called him, she said she’d wave at him when the bus passed. We all shared laughs, we waved and before ending the call, Parakh and his gf, said ‘I love you’ to each other.

If you want to know more about my friendship with Parakh, you can click on the following two links:

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you sweet people! ❤

also posted over at dverse where Sanaa is hosting Tuesday poetics.

February 14, 2023 21

For You Moon

Early this morning, I stopped running to look at the flowers. Shades of pink, purple, white, and yellow—shades of life, shades of love. I think, that life, must always be driven by love, not hate and rage.

In the early hours of morning, as I looked at the flowers, I thought of You. In past years, I used to think You were mine. That I posess You because I love You. That I must, like an intriguer, spread the idea that You are the One; to everyone I meet.

But this year’s a different thing. I’ll not think of You like that no more. I’ll not pluck these beautiful flowers for Your worship. But from time to time, I’ll just stop running to look at them and I’ll think of You.

You, watching over me and my kind with your pale, potent shine.

144 words

Posted over at dverse where Merril is hosting Prosery Monday.

Prompt: Write a prose, no longer than 144 words (not including the title), the prose must also include the prompt line (word for word): “This year’s a different thing, I’ll not think of you”. ~ Charlotte Mew

February 14, 2023 30

For You Blue

You don't realize 
How much I 
Want You! 

You're what drives 
Me to write. 
I want You! 

Look at me 
I want to 
See You! 

Please, sweet Krishna! 
Oh! my love, 
I want You!

But it takes 
So long, my dear
Want You now!

You're what drives
Me to madness 
I want You!

You picked me 
Up and loved me 
I want You! 

My mind 
Sees You!
In dreams. 

My heart 
Sees You!
In love.

My soul 
Sees You!
At peace. 

Please, 
Look at me.
I want You!

Author’s Note

I wrote this poem in the early hours of morning. Krishna is a major Hindu deity and when I was little, I used to watch a kids show in which Little Lord Krishna was the hero and, in the animation, Krishna always has blue skin.