20 Lines A Day

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Earth Songs

In early morning earth tunes up its harp.
Emerging from the flat dark night, the sharp
shrill bird songs call me from my silent sleep
where I in cottoned quiet cannot keep

my consciousness awake. I spiral down
to places where my dream becomes my town.
I star in my own movie, watch the flow
of action, but then with the morning’s glow

remember nothing. Now the flutes sing tunes
and I come into wakefulness. Day croons
its melodies from sunrise into bright
surprises. Could these gifts have come from night?


2 Comments

I hide within a quilt…

I hide within a quilt

gazing at the ceiling

pondering over things

and finally, getting tortured

by my conflicting thoughts-

the night goes on

and I  succumb to sleep

with no dreams.


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Untitled

If I had married a poet
he would sing me to sleep with simile,
march into morning with metaphor,
brew the coffee, set the table,

a woven placemat for him,
a green one with lilies for me.
The white porcelain teapot, steaming

with water for my cup, two sugars, a slice of lemon,
and his strong coffee, black, no sweetness
except for the flavor of him
across the table.

We look, see much more,
speak, don’t speak.
The air is charged.
But,

he is not a poet.
He listens to my words,
understands my simile, my metaphor.
We have combined

our differences.
He is morning. I am night,
I the moon and he the sun
who has become my poet.


6 Comments

Night

Off and on I have been trying to work on Palindromes, which I find so-ooo difficult. Not sure if this works at all, but I offer it as my poor attempt.

Shadows

Fading dreams

in deep black.

Dark shadows appear

then sleep

comes when least expected.

Time passing

reading

insomniacs all reading,

passing time expected least

when comes sleep.

Then appear shadows

dark, black,

deep

in dreams.

Fading.


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Writing Rondeau

The dark red blood glistens in the night

The dark red blood glistens in the night

Narrating the story of British Raj’s might

How a kind boy was killed at first glance

where now his lover is forced to dance

Who will, against this injustice, fight?

.

This deed of the Raj can never be right

the story behind which I now write

That kid was of no proper civil stance

Now his dark red blood glistens in the night.

.

What was about him, that the Raj fright

Was it his, against the oppression, fight?

He was not even given a last glance

Drowned in the black river at first chance

Now his lover dances at the same site

Where his dark red blood glistens in the night.

The story, I am narrating, through this poem- is loosely based on a Hindi prose- “एहिं थैया झुलनी हैरानी हो रामा…” by Shivprasad Mishra “Rudra”.

Poetic style- Rondeau

A french form of poetry consisting of 3 stanzas, 13 original lines and 2 refrains of the I line of the poem.

Rules-

1. 8-10 syllables per line.

2. Structure with rhyme scheme-

A

A

B

B

A

.

A

A

B

A(R)

.

A

A

B

B

A

A(R)


3 Comments

The Blitz Poem

Beautiful sky

Beautiful love

Love so fair

Love so sly

Sly is who I am

Sly is the world

World so dreary

World is a dream

Dream in the night

Dream of the day

Day quite warm

Day with a charm

Charm act outward

Charm so fake

Fake is who I am

Fake is this world

World freedom

World enlightens

Enlightens the path

Enlightens my soul

Soul concept of life

Soul concept of death

Death for me and you

Death so inevitable

Inevitable circumstance

Inevitable depression

Depression kills

Depression controls mind

Mind your own business

Mind so lame

Lame is who I am

Lame is the world

World so sultry

World where I live

Live in the shadow

Live in the oblivion

Oblivion choices

Oblivion sky

Sky so high

Sky so blue

Blue waters

Blue cheese

Cheese of cow

Cheese I love

Love is who I am

Love is the world

World is yours

World is mine

Mine

Yours…

Well, I hope you are not angry for reading this poem(yes it is a poem) which is full of meaningless phrases and words.

But I loved writing it and I hope you are also going to love it.

Blitz is a 50-line poem, completely made up of small phrases. Rules-

1. Line 1 should be one short phrase or image.

2. Line 2 should be one short phrase or image, using the same first word as the first words of Line 1.

3. Line 3 should include the phrase, using the last word of Line 2.

4. Line 4 should include the phrase, using the last word of Line 2.

5. Line 5 should include the phrase, using the last word of Line 4.

6. Line 6 should include the phrase, using the last word of Line 4.

7. Line 7 should include the phrase, using the last word of Line 6.

8. Line 8 should include the phrase, using the last word of Line 6.

9. Keep on repeating the routine till Line 48.

10. Line 49 is the last word(only) of Line 48.

11. Line 50 is the last word(only) of Line 47.

If you have any questions, do ask them. And try it- I know it is a little time consuming and a little confusing as well, but it is quite entertaining when we write it.


Stars Challenge

When I was young I’d lie down in the grass,
look up, and try to count the little lights
that shone on me. They had a certain class,
those stars illuminating my dark nights.
What makes them sparkle, twinkle? Help me know
the science of their shining midnight show.
No, no, I much prefer the mystery
of skylit jewelry made of filigree.


1 Comment

other voices

Sometimes I
admire the
moon for it
cannot match
the sun’s glory
so it finds
it’s own patch
of sky to
brighten.

Sometimes I
admire the
nightingale
for it is drowned
out in the shrilly
shouts of other
fowls so it
finds its own
silence to
liven.

Sometimes I
strive for the
sun yet I
can’t reach it,
so I aim for
the twinkling
stars instead.

Somewhere
over the rainbow
the colour black
is weeping,
but then she
realizes the
mysterious beauty
of the night.


A Rispetto

How interesting to see that I’ve been writing many these, but with a slightly different rhyme scheme. They go abab ccdd. Anne, I think I’ll use your topic, if you don’t mind.

My Brain

With all its neurons doing what they should,
my brain stays wide awake and in the light…
unless, that is, a seizure draws a hood
of darkness down. Then all things turn to night.

I love to use my brain and use it well,
but hate when seizure throws it into hell.
Most times it functions in the brightest sun,
although I’m never sure what I have won.

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