Synergy

Thanks to Sunday muse for this amazing visual prompt!  

A stitch in time

Saves nine

Then

Three stitches should be fine

To claim what is mine.

Us.

 

2 Equal halves

From different hemispheres

A tectonic shift

Perpetrated by a single thread

A simple yes.

 

An apple a day

The adam and eve way

Keeps us healthy and gay.

 

The harder I tug

Stronger the hug

The prickly institution

needles us now and then

A needed constitution

It keeps us grounded and in zen.

 

 

 

Destiny's Child

 

For the Sunday muse 

 

 

The lines of your palm

Are laced with napalm

You will keep searching for calm

Yet your hands will keep you warm

From a world full of harm.

 

Your path you walk is only yours

Your umbrella cannot protect you

From the puddles underneath

You will weather the wet &

Become a bonafide vet.

 

You will survive,

You are destiny’s child

The roads you walk will

Always be the ones not taken

Not out of sheer rebelery

But an innate sense of revelry

So child!

Don’t rely on fate,

Your destiny is in your hands.

is what I would want my palm reader to say xD 

Breathe

Completed 12 years of blogging last week :) 

As Shattered promises of tomorrow

Splattered all over my bedroom

I pulled out my pipe

Decided to exhale smoke

Rather than inhale hubris

for a change.

And listened to the tunes of yesterday

Since history is doomed to repeat itself

Maybe this once

it will bloom by itself.

Any which way

I am not going anywhere

I have nowhere to be

Except be me in this moment

Right now.

And inhale in all the terrible glory

Exhale all the grime and gory

Soaking in the momentousness of surviving today.

Nirvana

 

 My poem is response to the below sunday muse picture prompt. you can find other entires on the link here

 

I stared at god

With my sorry eyes

Was he a benevolent being

Even 

after all he is seeing?

Or 

just another soul fleeing

from 

What he was actually feeling

In pursuit of a deeper meaning?

His eyes look tired

All seeing

Pain ensuing no doubt

A deity is a constant state of being

Feeling for all of humanity

I hear his silent prayer,

When he sees his little kitty,

For all my seven lives

I gave him a thankful purr

For giving me strength

We embraced,

I was born.

 

Wordsmith

 

The world spinning

I don’t see

When I am in the zone.

Words are all I have

To weave art

To create

 A quick restart.

Maybe it is out of fashion

To get your hands dirty

With all the ink

and  mental stink.  

Fragility is art

I cup the words with my

Tired hands

And when it stands

On its own merit

I show it off like simba.

Sometimes I just let it dry out

And adorn my wall.

Other time I just mush it

Into senselessness

And devour the meaningless of it all! 

For the awesome picture prompt by Sunday muse  

and sunday pantry in Poets and Storyteller's United

A new hope

 

Collective bad dreams

Spit us out of our

Stupified sleeps.

 

Denuded desires,

Chasing the ghosts of

Gone glories.

 

Midnight oil burned,

Moody mindscapes

Caught frozen in

picturesque landscapes.

 

I didn’t know what to do,

But she stood with me

With a lamp in her hand

And somehow that was enough.

Written for the Sunday muse and PU's Sunday pantry. Based it out of the struggle my team is going through this season. 

Wanderlust

Once upon a time

Being a wanderlust

Was seen as a mental disorder

By flat earthers

(irony duly noted)

 

Then we had the likes of Columbus

Find his ‘India’

And kill a lot many Indians

In the inane name of ‘colonialisation’

And killed many a civilisation

In the name of observation.

(irony again noted)

 

Then came the modern ages

Where every instagrammer

Pronounced themselves a wanderlust

And travelled the roads always taken

As long as they got a selfie

And a pic for their tinder bio.

 

Out of the corner of the eye

In a lorry packed with explosives

Came in crazy corona.

Travel was now confined to

The end of our streets

And inside our eye

Where the mind meets

And give us little treats

From the camera of the past

To vacations visited last

And memories gone by fast.

 

Home which was once a retreat

Has now become a place of deceit

Where we now work and relax not

Suddenly our third eye and an old map

Is all we got!  

 

Written for Sunday muse and Writer's Pantry

I see red

There is no doubt, 

the world is filled with a myriad of nincompoops

Today's world especially. 

I heard a right winger legit swing these words on National Television

"The older generation must sacrifice their lives for the sake of the economy"

NINCOMPOOP! 

I see red everywhere, 

but this sunday morning I have decided to take the all appeasing blue

a bold one nonetheless 

and paint YOU COULD GET CORONA TOO.

Don't be that idiot who thinks 

the virus will swing by you 

and not harm you. 

Not too old

too smart

too insignificant 

for the cornea less corona. 

But you can definitely be too stupid. 

Can't believe this is the gift 

I am getting for my well deserved retirement.

Teaching common sense to the so called well educated generation.

You can balance work with a life only when you have a life.

You might think I am being Captain Obvious

but that has what it has come down to really. 

Simple, rudimentary, life saving instructions

which we somehow are incapable of  listening to it seems!

Maybe I should just use the red paint after all.

Silver Linings Playbook

By Samyuktha J

Once upon a time

she did give a damn.

She reacted to every crime

On every page of that depressing newspaper.

The creases on that paper

Started residing on her forehead &

 the corners of her mouth

Her smiles few and far between

Had the air of melancholy

Of a loss felt before it was born.

She grew apart from her people

Better than to fall apart she would say.

Then one day I saw her at Joe’s and shocked to hear her sing

Once upon a time

I did give a damn.

Now I would rather dine on my dime

And definitely some more wine.

Life is too short and my dog’s life shorter

Can’t waste any on things that I cannot change

And definitely not on things designed to make me cringe

Salut and Bon Apetit!

My inquisitive eyes were question enough

She smiled a benign smile

Her eyes crinkled with joy.

“One Sunday morning

I was reading the paper in no man’s land

I didn’t feel the heat nor the beauty of what was around me

Nor did I feel my loneliness or the danger surrounding me

I was feeling older than my age and carrying the burden of the world

When I suddenly looked out of the paper

And saw a wolf in front of me.

Peaceful and wise staring at me

I found beauty in the beast

And possibilities of violence

If I moved too much.

Then I Realized the whole point of my life

Was to look at him ,

look at what was around me

And not darned piece of paper!

I tore it to pieces and was searching for a dustbin in that wasteland

And when I turned back he wasn’t there anymore

But atleast I was."

I smiled. 

 I know she did give a damn

but this time

To what really mattered

To what was in front of her

Life~

Written for the sunday muse

Bottle Tree

Alas! 

I am just a glass bottle hanging from a tree, 

oscillating in an orbit of pain

to the tune of my circumstances.

My emotions are somewhere sealed

inside that airtight bottle,

I think they are transparent

But ofcourse!

They are actually invisible to the onlooker.

And he asks,

What are you a glass bottle doing

clinging on to a bare tree?

I'm better off with my fellow bottle mates.

But once our paths collide,

Won't we just crash and break 

and let loose that noxious subtance 

which man calls love and

I call pain?

Written for Sunday muse's picture prompt.