slow and thought out?
i’ll be put out:
the pout,
berating the deliberate,
seeking to embrace
rash impulse,
reaches across
and tugs.
i give in, de-
liberately pro-
longing
the moment.
O! Dear!
P.S: Linked to Trifecta (http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2013/05/trifecta-week-seventy-seven.html)
Flowers in Violet by Kim Nelson
violet ground
and cyan dust,
the fading silhouettes
of flowers past,
we flutter to the dust
in a heap of pale yellow
weathered petals
and memories of a violet spring.
Linking as a real but late Toad to the Imaginary Garden for Kim Nelson’s Challenge- Violet (http://withrealtoads.blogspot.in/2013/05/sunday-mini-challenge-violet.html)
a wet Milan
clung to my over-sized coat
in dewy splotches
that shivered and fell,
brooked into clean green
water- still, then slow and quiet flow,
the shrubs on the bank shrugged,
nonchalant in the presence of beauty.
Linking as a Real Toad to the Imaginary Garden for Kerry’s Challenge- The Prelude (http://withrealtoads.blogspot.in/2013/05/kerrys-wednesday-challenge-prelude.html)
but he says no to labels
and bubbles:
blood is but water-
colored and we are all air
and space, some with pace too
says he and runs, shouting-
but we’re of the same bloody blood;
now, file for libel!
P.S: Linked to Trifecta (http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2013/05/trifecta-week-seventy-six.html)
This Sunday, I learnt of wing collars, paisley ties and gingham checks. There was more on the length and width of the ties, the fall of the trousers and fashion-tips on cuffs. Cuffs, collars, ties and checks- who ever said man is free?! When are we moving to silver shackles?
The earth flush,
Freshly wet,
No more a hothead
As the water flows
But a rain-portrait,
Suffused with a fleeting sense
Of self as can be.
I’m waiting too
For such a moment.
P. S – Linked to Trifecta
was that you?
in the pic?
the stance, the tee,
the shoes-
i just thought
he said in a rush.
no, no, not me!
not that tee! not me!
thank god he said
no hair or heave
other distaste,
sludge in public!
i shushed-
a stance? how can that be
when all i do
is trapeze-tease
on the middlest of lines;
i fled
into the open elevator
and whooshed out,
thinking
of ink and office mags
and how they smudge.
P.S: Linked as a Real Toad to Izy’s Document of Discussion in the Imaginary Garden (http://withrealtoads.blogspot.in/2013/04/document-of-discussion.html)
yellow, the color of summer
hotly side-stepping
age and rules yellow
and then the red i see
in streaks hers
and orange reflectors
on toes-
an ageing medley,
the ditty-
tired.
i want her to stop,
pause the dance,
cool it with a splash
of blue
icy.
mulch am i?
raining on her
in summer too?!
She had shades of darkness to wrap around. Her iris glinted blue now and then green again. The pupil was rock-black at night and slate-grey in the day. Me- I was just dust on her cheek, dust she might decide to sweep away with a flood of her salty tears.
Will you drop me
A line,
Say you’re fine
As a thread
Come loose on my home-
spun frock.
The frock fits no more
But write me more
Of you,
Find fine
Lo(o)se thread?
P.S: Linked to Trifecta
rash-me-ramble 