Secret Language

Hidden under your questions
are cruel assaults that cut
but I can’t hurt you back
‘cos I could never learn
the secret language that runs
through these exhausting conversations
spoken seldom with lips.

I am always open
holding nothing back
but still you ask me
the same questions,
again, making me mad,
‘cos I could never bend
the truth like you do.

© M. Jay Dixit, September heart-to-hearts, 2021 All Rights Reserved

If you enjoyed the post don’t forget to like, comment and follow!
INSTAGRAM | TWITTER
Take care ❤

~Jay

Biting Into The Morning Sun

Feel an early dawn breeze,
the pre-winter coolness,
see the ruby autumn skies
filled with shades of blue
and hear the chirping of sparrows,
as we sit on the porch
with apples in our hands
ripe, red and succulent.

The Sun, blushing red,
is filled with the sweet emotion
of love towards our mother Earth,
therefore it never ceases to shine,
a symbol of hope and perseverance
for all that’s living.

It’s on the brink
of being fully risen
as we bite into the apples
sweet nectar fills our mouth
like the sweet emotion fills the Sun.

© M. Jay Dixit, September heart-to-hearts, 2021 All Rights Reserved

Posted over at dverse poetics: Always in Season‘

It’s hard waking up early under the influence of medicines and not always I can gather up the strength to do so but today I managed to open my eyes before sunrise and decided to have an apple before breakfast, so that’s where this poem came from. I found it very hard to nail this prompt and I think I’ve done a poor job at it, let me know what you guys think of it.

If you enjoyed the post don’t forget to like, comment and follow!
INSTAGRAM | TWITTER
Take care ❤

~Jay

Quadrille: A Farewell Embrace

Our worlds collided
like clouds in thunderstorm
and there was lightning–
two strangers became lovers.

Then you got a ticket to ride
and I went with you to the station,
train’s horn blared,
you wrapped me in your arms,
letting the moment linger on.

44 words.
Posted over at dverse: Quadrille #136 – Let’s Linger.

Poem: Monster

Possibly, I’m dead, mutated
into a ghost
inside your bed,

              like an evil spell
              crushing your confidence
              by meaningless blows—

              as yesterday fades
              with its fake promises
              of paradise

              and pig-headed politicians
              decide
              what’s real and fake.

I’m a shoeless
hunter on a time-rusted
motorbike with tattooed
hands, rotting

in a den of dopers,
smokers and drunkards
crumbling,

I breathe on a mirror
but I don’t see
my breath,

              only a face
              that I don’t recognize,
              It’s your face, smiling

              with promises of paradise
              and of peace,
              love and light.

As into dark
I plummet
from the breadcrumb sky
yeasting aloft
the greening
marbles of Taj Mahal.

I’m a hopeless
beast of burden,
chewing
the fungus
inside your mattresses— to stay alive.
So, I can flirt
with death.

Inspired by the dverse prompt: Let’s have fun, guys! Whatever takes your fancy: let’s have some fun with fungi.

Linked to Open Link Night #300

© MRITYUNJAY DIXIT, 2021. — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Stray Heart

Since you went away, I’m seeing less and less. Each day looks more mundane than the previous one and the nights are dull too. The wind, sunsets and rains have lost their charm. I’m chasing less and less rainbows.

Oh! here I go again, making another compromise–yeah I can do without poetry, no one seems to like it anyways except myself and after all, poetry starts with seeing and I’m slowly getting blind. Deaf too, I can’t hear what this silver singing river has to say or what my own pounding heart has to say.

All things are fading or is it me who’s fainting? Senses getting numb, going back, back into your arms, back to trying making some sense of it all–waiting for the inspiration to strike, for a rainbow to form in the sky so that I can chase it. You call me pathetic for waiting, for choosing to be sensitive instead of strong. But I don’t mind, ‘cuz you are the only one I can cry to, you are my sunshine–the meaning and substance of all my poems.

~Jay, 1/09/2021

Raksha Bandhan

Draupadi Ties a Bandage around Krishna’s Finger

Raksha Bandhan
a ravishing fun tradition
cherished across religions
an annual rite and a
farewell to Sawan

Raksha Bandhan
a ritual which
requires
Rakhi which
is a band and
a sacred thread and
a bond of protection and
an obligation
towards all sisters
and all brothers
across the universe
to never abandon
each other
and to love each other abundantly
and to be each other’s sunshine
when the rain comes.
and shine on and on
Like sweet Lord Krishna!

limitless undying love
shining around like a million suns
Happy Raksha bandhan

~Jay

Though not siblings by birth, Shri Krishna and Draupadi shared a unique and powerful bond of love and friendship for each other. According to the Mahabharata, Krishna was so fond of Panchali that he addressed her as ‘sakhi’. Panchali too had complete faith on Devakinandan and prayed to Him with much devotion. On a beautiful day of Sankranti, the Lord cut his little finger while He was handling sugarcane. Shri Krishna’s wife Satyabhama sent for help to get a cloth to bandage Shyamsundar’s hand while Rukmini, the other consort of Krishna, quickly came to the Lord’s assistance to tie a bandage around His finger herself. Panchali who was close by tore off a section of her sari and bandaged Madhav’s finger. In return for this favour, Shri Krishna pledged to protect Panchali when she would be in trouble.
~Krihnabhumi.in

limitless undying love
shining around like a million suns

The Beatles, Across the Universe

…So I Write

Nostalgia
tainted
with sooty thoughts.

Not in control
of myself
I write

with pain
smudging
colorful memories
painting them black.

Love and light
are lost.

All that’s left
are regrets
that pinch

so badly
I get through

my days
turn slowly
into sleepless nights.

44 words

~Mrityunjay Dixit

Posted over at dverse

Haiku #38

after a hot day
drizzling dusk grants respite
to the thirsty trees.

~Mrityunjay Dixit

Antidotes | Spillwords

Dear reader, I invite you to read a string of my 9 haiku published over at Spillwords

Antidotes

When I was little

My mum told me
that if I should see
a helicopter seed
I must make a wish on it
and it’ll come true.

Now I am older
and I know
that you reap
sweet fruits
if you sow
your seeds with
your mothers’ wisdom.

44 words.

posted over at dverse: Quadrille #127: Planting Seeds

© MRITYUNJAY DIXIT, 2021. — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

If you enjoyed the post don’t forget to like, comment and follow.
INSTAGRAM | TWITTER