A quiet hour...

A silent place
Murmurs of gentleness
Wrapped in lashes
Brushing soft on cheeks
Slowly reaching out...

Waking.

Just being. 

I am blessed. :)

9 January 2013

(Had to. Espcially after reading this from Shail Mohan's FB status update :D
"Shail Mohan:‎"The desire to write grows with writing." ~ Desiderius Erasmus"

And to all those who are here, New Year Wishes! Please do excuse me for being absent from your blogs (and mine :) ) for a long long long time now, and please also allow me to be absent a while more :). I shall pick up the threads, and gorge on your writing... I cannot not :)
Thank you for your patience too!

Clouded Hopes

That cloud, it grew, as it passed
Over sea, over beach, over valleys and hills...

And burgeoning with the heaviness
Of promise, or was it warning?
It arrived: longed for release.

As did she, looking upward
In empathy. Know the portent
Of that darkness, of that weight
Of expectation, of the helplessness
Of being left, to the
Winds of change.

And while she waited, it blew away.
Was blown away.
Looking longingly after it, she wished
She too could grow wings and follow;
That she too, whimsically could just
Up it and off.

A day later, she heard it rained
Where he was.
Unappeased, she forgave herself.
And waited for the next one.

17 July, 2012

On a random thought, while gmail chatting with Soumya, about a cloud that did not rain here :)
Text below: Uncanny, the thought that it took me by the scruff and wrote itself here. :D The last line says I hoped to read it from him :D 
**************************************************
On 16 July, 2012:
"Soumya-Amused: :

  and how is the weather there?

 me: Almost but not quite rainy.. overcast most times... but the intensity of the rains is yet to pick up

07:00 Soumya-Amused: hmm same here.

  but interestingly

  the cloud that goes above your house, the same comes to ys.

  us*

  esp the ones that do not pour

  :)

07:01 me: Now THAT is a thought :D

  One should write about it, no?

 Soumya-Amused: Yes yes.

 me: So I'll read it soon?"
*****************************************************************************And now, am waiting to read yours, Soumya :D!

Implosion

Why is it that the heavy heart
Never slows down, despite my willing it?
Why does that indefinable, infinitesimal
Infernal lump in my throat still allow me to breathe?
Why, even when I drown in self inflicted silence,
Do words impinge, float, escape, and express themselves?
Even as my heart, my soul curl themselves back
Into the fetal form, closing themselves
Turning inward, why do I still go on
And move, and find myself open
Vulnerable

Why cannot I let that period define
And close a labouring life?
Curl my whole self, tightly
Airlessly, compacting myself
Implode, to that zing.

Pulling the plug, within.

26 April, 2012

Def-i-ance

Of freedom,
Bound within
Acceptance. 

Not, let free
In typecast stereotypes.

I've wondered
Ever so often
What defines me-

The willingness to be me;
Or the obligation otherwise

Answers elude.

Till then I'm bound to be

Free, to be pigeonholed.  

4 March, 2011

Worded

A piquant thought nudges me-
As to
Why words topple into me
When the clocks tick midnightwards.
Perhaps they’re tired of hanging out of reach
And think I might just not notice
As they slither down the thought strings?
And so with eyes dry drowned in midnight oil
I grab them, before they squirm out of reach!
Only to array them before me
And wonder, suddenly, where all the magic did go

I should have left them be.
Sigh.

28 February, 2012