One More Yesterday

I wish one more yesterday 

If I could, with you 

To walk along the Marina beach

Where I wished to propose you 

Holding your hands like lovers 

Without any undisturbed winds 

To hear your husky voice calling me

darling and sharing your thoughts 

I wish to see your colourful smile 

For one more time to seal it in my heart 

And walk away towards the grim sunset

Without saying goodbyes and any tears 

I want to purge the memories with you 

In the poems, I wrote for you years ago 

I know that you have read each of them 

I'll light a lamp with ounces of  whiskey 

Like a dark love burning bright at its end 

A poem based on word prompts #moonmystic #atreyasverse #ConverStory and  #ThePush. The image taken from Unsplash. Thank You :)

A Lost Infant

 A lost infant 

A lost bundle of dreams

Weaved during ten months 

Inside the mother's womb

About a lifetime of raising a child 

From the first scan of the movement

To the first  kick on the belly 

Listening to the sweet little things 

With an ear on the belly 

The selection of a sweet name

The shopping for welcoming baby

The decoration of the room and cradle 

A long wait for seeing the face

A long wait for seeing the smile 

A long wait to hear the first words

A long wait to see the first walk 

A long wait to play with the god's gift 

It's a short-lived joy

As the child left this world 

Too early 

It's a pain hard to heal

The tears of the bereaved  mother

The broken heart of a silent father 

 Consoling each other in silence 

Words can't console their loss 

As the image of their breathless infant

Haunt them as nightmares in 

Sleepless nights and hopeless days 

With all their hopes for a lifetime

Buried inside a small casket 

In the graveyard of sorrows 

With wishes for a cradle in heaven

This poem is written in solidarity with my friends who lost their children too early. Some inside the womb itself. 

Once Upon A Dream

 

Once upon a dream

I saw a pretty girl in my life

Unseen before and unknown

But she wandered into my house

Like my best friend for years

And a neighbour for decades

She had shared so many things

Like I am her secret keeper

She watered the plants inside my house

Whispering something to them with a smile

She went outside to buy something

After telling me to wait for her to return

Was she the friend I craved in my childhood?

To play, with me instead of my imaginary friends

Or was she the reflection of my best friend's friend?

Who used to pick up my calls when he was not around

I was curious about her, but I'd never seen her face

I wonder if my mind created imagery of her from the voice!

I woke up in the morning with questions about the strange girl

But I couldn't recollect her face again in my mind, though I tried

My friend, an artist, listened to the impressions I had about her

She made a sketch of this girl with an angelic face

She termed this dreamy girl, the angel of my life

I looked for girls with the face as in the sketch

My girlfriends didn't have that face

I've lost that sketch along the way

But that angelic face is still in mind

I wonder if that dream was a hint

About someone, I will meet in future

I'm still waiting for that

Girl to show up somewhere

Someday!

This poem is based on a word prompt from #loveletters . Image from Pixabay. Thank You :)

A Lone Walker

I am a lone walker

After the sunset 

Along a tiled riverside pathway 

With the company of the silent river 

Under the canopy of plantains and trees 

Guided by the moonlight and lights from homes

Without the hustles of walkers and runners 

It is a realm I crave in big cities for a walk

With crickets from bushes on the sides 

Making noise along with the birds 

The reeds wave along with the wind 

Lonely streetlamps are a relief 

In pitch dark areas I see mirages 

Of individuals looking at the river

I could hear the conversations of 

People enjoying drinks in the evening 

The movements in the bushes scare at times

As the bund used to be a haven of snakes 

I have seen mongooses wandering around 

I see the imageries on the ripples of rivers 

Created by the lights from the other shore 

Seeds of poems give my mind a workout 

Sometimes, the mind tells me interesting tales

The music from temples on the other shore 

Spruces mind at the end of the pathway 

At times, I see men sitting on the stone benches 

Enjoying the peace of evening in darkness 

The walk itself is an affirmation to see

Sunrise on dawn someday 

As I remain chained to the sleeping pill 

My long walks in the past drove me to 

Move to other cities with a belief 

I am walking with an aim 

To escape from here!

This poem is based on the seed I had in mind while walking in the evening. I indeed walk when there is nobody in the path. Image from the Unsplash. 

Decision

Make sure you clear up your mind,
Decide what is best for your future.
Do you see me as part of that journey?
If not, prepare me for your departure.
I will pack all the memories and dreams;
You can keep all the gifts and moments.
You'll still be in my heart as spring of past.
Let's walk away without uttering a word;
Without hugs, kisses, and sad goodbyes!
If you want to go on a journey with me,
Let go of all those dark fights we had,
All the tears and nightmares we shared,
And all those hurtful words we hurled.
Let's make a new start for our lost love!
Let's travel through new places to build                                                                                                  new dreams, experiences and memories.                                                                                                Let's promise to hold on to each other!

A poem based on word prompt #FromOneLine. Image from Unsplash. Thank you :)

Vishu: The Harvest Festival

 Vishu is a festival that evokes 

Memories from the childhood 

During the school holidays 

While I stayed at my Uncle's home

We used to collect golden shower flowers 

To place in front of a picture of Lord Krishna 

Along with rice, fruits, coconut, jasmine flowers 

and other auspicious items at night 

That is believed to make lord pleased 

In the morning, Aunt used to wake me up

And keep my eyes closed to take me to the

room to show the first view of Krishna and other 

Auspicious items for praying for a good year ahead

Then Uncle and Aunt gave coins as part of the elders

Giving younger ones the money for a prosperous year ahead

I and cousins used to go to my relatives' and neighbours houses

To collect coins as part of the custom and we used to save them

It used to be our pocket money for the year as kids 

The  scrumptious meal and dessert payasam 

Those images are still memorable 

It is hard to get golden shower flowers now 

And it's been a while since I celebrated Vishu 

I felt like a kid when my Mum's friend gave me 

coin and a currency note along with milk today

Wishing me a prosperous year ahead 

I felt like I saw Lord Krishna in her

My Mum too gave money like every year

I remember giving coins to the kids in the alley 

On a Vishu, when I was in Pune 

Their happiness was pure bliss 

The farmers that harvest rice, fruits and 

vegetables are the real heroes of this festival 

Images from Dreams Time and Alamy

A Blue Lake of Love

A blue lake of love 

Looks surreal with green backdrop 

The thistle flowers dance with wind 

While flora find the vibes of romance

Let's sail our boat of crush and flirt 

And see how far we can go with wind

I'll try to win your heart, you try to stop

I'll lose in your eyes, you try to evade it 

I'll steal your smiles, you try blankface

I'll glorify your beauty, you try not to fall

You don't have to try anything for me 

I've already fallen in dreams about you 

We can send our poetries into the sky 

Let the wind take them to new shores

While you decide the fate of our future

This poem is based on word prompts from #inkMine. Image from Unsplash.

Characterization

 

Eight years of a regime 

Ruined every social fabric of a nation

Destroying the pillars of a nation 

With a brute majority in electoral democracy

The opposition voices are stifled with the 

Overreaching arms of the government

A witch-hunting of epic proportions 

Even the courts play fiddle to the government

The compromised media give characterisations

To the rebel voices in favour of the government 

Those new media are characterized as Godi media

The social media cell of the ruling party target 

rebel voices with false narration and maligning campaigns 

The female rebel voices get rape threats and character assassination

The voices that question the government are characterized as 

anti-nationals, Urban Naxals, and  tukde-tukde gang 

The journalists who report against the government 

Lose their jobs and they get haunted by fictitious charges

Even court interventions don't give enough relief 

Social activists who work for the rights of the people

They are characterized as villains and they are jailed

With sedition charges that make it difficult to get bail

The tribals are stripped of right over their lands 

Haunted by armed forces and characterized as maoists 

Rationalists were shot dead for campaigning against 

the superstitions and other blind faiths that affect people

The NGOs that work among the poor are characterized as 

money launderers and they lost their right to get foreign funds

Amnesty International is banned in my country and you can

Imagine the plight of the right activists right now 

Many RTI activists have been killed or face a threat

Kashmiries were stripped of their privileges and oppressed  

They're characterized as Pakistani sympathizers  

Things related to Muslims are characterized as jihad, 

ranging from love jihad, UPSC jihad to Halal Jihad

There are hundreds of Muslims living in detention centres

characterized as illegal migrants by the government  

Not to mention the characterization of them as beef eaters

And being lynched in the name of possessing beef or for being Muslims

The students who protested against the citizenship bill were 

beaten up ruthlessly and got jailed on serious charges

The farmers who fought against farm laws were 

characterized as Khalistani supporters  until they won 

Hundreds of youth were beaten up for seeking jobs 

Criminals wearing saffron are characterized as patriots 

My own brethren were compared as Somalians by the premier 

The government characterises political opponents as economic offenders

The followers of an ideology that stayed away from the freedom struggle 

Characterizes themselves as the nationalists and they try to impose 

Their beliefs on the large population from different cultural heritage 

The vegetarians who support the government are trying to impose 

Vegetarianism on meat-eaters with the characterization of sinners

There is a characterization of Hindi as a national language

Though it is only an official language and there is the imposition

of Hindi on non-Hindi speaking states through government policies 

The characterization of Dalits as people of lower strata 

They face atrocities in the form of rape and octraisation 

Now there is an us versus them narrative from the government 

Letting real economic offenders escape from the country 

And stop the people who can speak against them from visiting 

Other countries 

This poem is based on a monthly journal prompt from #anneapart. *tukde- pieces or splintering *jihad-the spiritual struggle within oneself against sin. *Godi- lap. This poem has a political tone as I am not oblivious to what I see in my country. Image from iStock. Thank you :) 

Another Life?

 

The tales of second life 

With impeccable memory of the past 

Often get the curious media coverage 

I wonder if it is a mental ability to know 

About the life of another person in detail

Is it a sheer coincidence of guess getting a match?

Many a day I tried to recollect my past life

Imagined me in different eras and countries

I think  I never had a previous life

I do not think I will have another life 

I never tried the virtual second life 

Nor I will try the metaverse 

If I have another life 

I would love to be a nomad 

I would love to travel and write 

The stories that are beyond me now

I hope I won't go through another love

I hope I won't go through another breakup 

I want to be a wanderer in search of glimpses 

Of  the sceneries that are surreal in the world 

And experience the life of being a human  in that modern era 

But I fear, I might end up in a colony on Mars or some other planet 

As a cyborg, clone, zombie, humanoid, or unknown species of that era

With artificial intelligence, life-enabling gadgets  self-healing and regeneration 

Living among sceneries and experiences beyond my imagination right now 

May be amidst a war with the aliens or the evolved human species'

Without ever experiencing the natural wonders that our earth offer 

This poem is a continuation of the thoughts about life, death, and life after death related to my recent poems in this blog.  Image from Unsplash. Thank you :)  The previous poems in this series are My Final Day On Earth and  What After The Death  . 

What After The Death?

 

Another death 

Another poignant family 

What dreams may have died?

The moment after the last breath 

What will happen to life?

Where will it go?

Afterlife

It sounds like a hope

Is there really another life to live?

From the moment of leaving the body

The soul may wander around 

Will it meet other souls?

I've seen the last breath of my dad 

I've seen him in my dreams and nightmares 

I wonder where he is right now in this universe!

There are those who proclaim that it's their second life 

They tell about the incidents from their old life

Some even find their old families!

Is there hell and heaven?

 It sounds like two magical worlds

Do we get to live another long life there?  

What is the purpose of this life, if it is meant only to be short?

Has God lined up other tasks for us after the death?

Why does he leave our dreams unfinished?

I wonder if I will get another life

As a microbe, plant, animal, human or even an alien!

It is a mystery similar to how this world popped up from nowhere!

This is based on remnants from a discussion I had with my ex-girlfriend about death, afterlife, soul etc during a holy month. Image is taken from Unsplash. Thanks :)  My Final Day On Earth is the previous poem and  Another Life? is the next poem in this series. 

My Final Day On Earth

 

One final day on this earth is special 

I'll visit a church or temple to pray 

Maybe a bribe to get a ticket to heaven

It's a relief for my broken and lonely heart 

No more battles to fight to survive another day 

No more worries to live through the pain 

I'll try to see the sunrise that I rarely see

I'll tell the sun to be gentle on me that day

I'll walk through the park for one last walk

I'll let the shower be my last rainfall 

And the crushed ice be my last snow 

I'll throw stones in a nearby stream 

I'll write poems from my sweet memories

I'll write an obituary for myself and send 

It to a digital newspaper for publishing 

I don't have many people to meet or call

I'll rather leave short goodbye messages 

With the hope of meeting again somewhere 

I'll hail a taxi and travel around for a while

To see the places I love, near where I live 

To bid adieu to the long walks I used to have

I'll spend some time in my vegetable garden

I'll water my plants and treat them with manure

I'll request someone to look after my garden 

I'll throw away the medicines that control me

And try to sleep on my own for seeing dreams

I'll try to wake up to the nightmares of my past

If there is a beach nearby, I will go there 

Walk on the sands and play with the waves

I hope I would last until the glorious sunset

If not, I will go to a hill for a final trek 

To breathe the misty air from the trees 

And embrace the clouds on the grass

I would cook myself a spicy last dinner 

With a dessert, I loved from my childhood

And one last toast to myself with a wine 

I hope I will see my loved ones waiting for me

Like my grandfather saw his, in the death bed 

I'll go with them without any regrets and sorrow

This poem is based on #journalingprompt 'What would you do if you knew you had one day left to live?' The next poems in this series are What After Death? and  Another Life? . 

A Pithy Smile

I'm missing yesterday's smile of you 

It was magical, made of moonshine 

I thought of visiting you again hours

later, as I wished to see it glint again

 

It was your final pithy smile for me

A talkative girl's silent departing gift

Like a touching speech by an orator

Prepared with soulless emptiness

 

I regret not taking you out in a steam  

Train, that whistles like hustles of rain

Through the snow caped valleys that

You wished to see during last winter

 

You were jaded, as I was so jealous of

your friends, who stole away the time

that I wished to keep aside for ourself

I wish I had words to melt your heart

 

I've read your journal about our breakup

You were sad and let the tears sooth the

pain, You were conscious about state of

my mind, but you chose to remain silent

 

A poem based on word prompts from #WriteMap #moonmystic #poetryprompt #BraveWrite #WIPWordSearch #WordSoupDaily#atreyasverse. Image from Unsplash Thanks to Michael Dam 

An Analyst's Block

I was so excited when I moved to Pune to be  

A market research analyst with the start-up, I associated with for two years

It was my dream job and I had to wait for years for an opportunity

I was struggling with a break-up and a sleep disorder

I was unaware that I was under depression

After a slow start, I enjoyed being involved in all aspects of that firm 

I loved researching markets and analyzing qualitatively

with the tools and techniques available

Finding new trends, technologies and updates 

Then the doctor advised me to quit the medicine and I got

a new medicine of lower dosage, My struggle started right there 

I started losing sleep and I couldn't focus on research

I had a short break during an important week as I struggled 

    I would sit for hours in front of the laptop to only write a few paragraphs 

I started getting headaches, and my world moved slowly 

It was embarrassing, as I couldn't engage in tight deadlines 

I started losing my temper and my frustration increased 

I was working on reports on my own and had targets 

I refused to get involved in an urgent report and company profiles

One day, I felt I couldn't do anything anymore and I asked my 

team leader to let me go home and work from home 

The company owner and team leader decided to allow that  

Provided I meet the monthly targets 

For days I sat blankly in front of a laptop trying to do company profiles 

No matter my efforts, it felt it was beyond me 

I had unfinished reports in front of me and I couldn't finish 

Without medicine, I struggled to sleep and I tried walking 

To tire me and induce sleep, and it took a while for it to work

But still, I couldn't write a thing on my report 

Slowly I was able to research and study other markets

But still, I couldn't do the company profiles and it gave me so much stress 

I had to quit my job and return home and had to engage in another field  

I was diagnosed with depression and I came under medication 

It helped me to come out of stress and be more focused on tasks

The lockdown made me sit at home and do research for a project 

I found research exciting again and spent hours every day 

Then I got a chance to associate with another market research firm

And it gave me the confidence to be a freelancer and found work through analysts 

Then almost two years later, I was doing company profiles in bulk 

And I was doing market research reports again with excitement

It was magical, as I was able to do something I felt was beyond me 

It was like a long writer's block for me that affected my career!

PS: I still wonder why I couldn't do one particular task. It was beyond me at that point. I found it easy later. I am going through another phase of it after an ambitious attempt to come out of medicines. The reduction in dosage left me struggling to do the simple task that I used to do with ease. It doesn't affect my creative writing though. Depression has taken away the joy I had with my work. I had to write this to motivate myself again and continue with my efforts. 

Languages of Life

I can't comprehend the language of love

anymore, I feel I am a new born illiterate 

After unlearning the love and it's mirage

I have frozen the memories in my mind  

I have closed the doors of my faint heart 

Maybe, I am getting older to like misery

Maybe, I am finding peace in the voids 

That I didn't try to fill with a new person

I found my old hobbies more exciting 

That I started doing things I gave up 

I learned the art of gratitude to appreciate

The small things that give me happiness 

I am gifting my precious time to silence 

I am hearing the voices from the nature 

I'm delving deep into the novel thoughts

I'm praying calmly to the god for guidance

I'm dreaming silently about a new destiny

I'm giving my pen ink to write new words

It has opened the floodgates of poetry 

In a way, I am relearning languages of life 

A poem based on wordprompts from #inkmine . Image from Unsplash 

Deception

Her moonlit glasses
Hid her bumble eyes
Wandering around to
See the man who fell
For her beguile words
and smile, Her hollow
love had razor's edge
To win disputes with
him, Everytime they
faced fights of egos
She thrived in poems
He wrote about her
He was drunk in his
Innocent love for her
She's just abiding time
Enjoying the glitters of
his company, Until his
purpose in her life ends
He was dreaming about
An impossible life with her
He didn't realise that she is
a mirage that he cannot own
She would fly away like a bird
When she come across another
man, Who is rich and more exciting 

This poem is based on word prompts from #vss365 #crowcalls #vssmagic #ThePush #Wordsofglass #moonmystic and   #FridayPhrases

Image from www.dreamstime.com

An Exodus From Arcot

An exodus that never made any waves 

Under the siege of British colonial army 

Long before the formation of India union

A break away group left the native Arcot

Leaving behind their wealth,and heritage

To avoid life under the captive of enemy

Found refuge in the southern travancore 

Locals ostracized them as the outsiders 

Treating them as unequals in all sectors

They were served tea in coconut shells 

They became a new community with

New narrative and a new resolve to fight

The successors revolted against British 

They chose to seek education for kids 

At the cost of surrendering the identity 

When India became sovereign nation 

They stopped speaking their lingua Tamil

They stopped celebrating their customs 

They became malayalies like the natives

Celebrating the festivals of the Kerala 

They have slowly attained prosperity 

None of them tried to go back to Arcot 

They wonder if locals will welcome them 

More than a century after the exodus 

This poem is about a section of a community that had to relocate from Arcot near Chennai  to travancore/Kerala during British onslaught in 19th century. It changed their lives. They had to rebuild their lives with new realities and identity.  Missionaries gave them education. They chose education over social status. They became a new community with privileges attained for being backward in their new native.

The High School Dictator

This poem is written for a guest post on Jamie Adams's website  https://jamieadstories.blog/  

I wish to extend my heartfelt thanks to Jamie Adams for this opportunity. This is my first guest post ever. Corporal punishments are now banned. This poem is about incidents that happened more than 24 years ago. 

I saw a dream 

I was back in my high school 

Again to learn some discipline 

There were total strangers 

But a man stood out 

He was the dreaded frog-eyed man 

The principal and headmaster 

He had difficult eyesight, 

But he had a good hearing capability

He had strict rules for the school 

The school was silent like a library mostly

Smacking with a stick was legal in 

his era, If you're late, you get 

smacked, We had  fearful days in 

school, Teachers looked for a reason

to expel us from the class, To be 

caught by him during his long walk   

 twice a day, Looking for preys to take to 

the office room, To give warning and smacking 

Students tried to do homework at all costs, 

We tried not to make any nuisance,

Even during class with no tutoring due to fear, 

It's more fearful if he asks to bring our parents, 

He would talk about the performance of 

ward at school, And our parents give him the right

to discipline their wards, He would mercilessly

fail students who he doesn't have faith, In  keeping

the hundred percentage record of the school, 

in the state level exams in the tenth standard, 

Those who survive the cull had extra classes,

And he used to monitor our progress closely, 

We had to get a signature from a parent, 

That we did all the tasks on the checklist daily, 

Without that teacher would make us stand, 

We would hide on the sides of the window,

As he has difficulty seeing around, 

One day he caught me standing during the 

lunch break, I was asked to perform 100 squats 

publicly, With my hands on my ears, The school's 

good reputation was built by him, More than fear,

The urge to get good marks drives students to study

hard, The pride in being part of the glory of the school

help us too, It's funny to think now, he taught us not to

waste food, He used to check our lunch boxes after eating,

He taught us to wear dhoti, By making it a uniform on Fridays,

He was in front to feast us on a special day, The one rupee coin

he gave on Vishu is still special, The school assemblies and his 

address, Remain a distant memory!

I saw my high school principal again in my dream last night. So I felt he is an appropriate topic to write on. I was scared of him and his punishments. He had an aura about him. Image from Adobe Stock. 

Llama

A guy in Dubai drank

Too much liquid of midnight

Celebrating his success in the desert

He wanted to raise a camel as his pet

He  searched for it in online pet stores

He liked the smile of one and bought it

He forgot about it until he got a call

From a delivery company, to receive

The animal he bought from Bolivia

He had no memory, that too from 

Bolivia, He checked his internet history,       

To find the day he shopped online,            

He saw the confirmatory email for                

the shopping, He was amused when             

he saw the llama, Not a camel, it had a            

head like a goat, It was a small animal              

full of fur, it had an infectious smile, 

He found out that it was from the Andes

mountains, He still liked its smile, But 

he wondered how to raise it in the desert! 

He set up a cooler enclave on his farm, 

And he placed an order for a couple more, 

For giving company to his llama!

A poem based on word prompts from #atreyasverse #2WordPrompt Image from Unsplash 

Larkspur Wish'

When the velvet dusk haunts moon,            

I will be waiting for you with            

Larkspur flowers

I want to put them on your pink hair,          

To make you gleam at night with              

shy smile 

I will end my woeful wanderings,

for listening to the soulful music that            

you play

And you will see me dancing wildly to the

music of you, and lose in potion of             

your love

The purpose of my life is to build a new life,

 with you in an estuary of                  

your dreams

 A poem based on word prompts from #atreyasverse #BraveWrite #moonmystic #VIVpoem #vss365 #WIPWordSearch Image from Google 

Temple For You

I want to look for a mount

Like Olympus in the Asgard

Not the haven of the gods

But a kingdom of the demons

To build a big temple for you

In the valley with thick forest

And rocks for an ideal pilgrimage

Columns like in Greek temples

Arches like in the Persepolis

Structure like a mini colosseum

Atop, a pyramid like in Egypt

Minarets around like in Arabia

Flooring with the Italian marbles

Sanctum sanctorum carved in a

Single granite from the Karnataka

I’ll keep a sculptures of your demons

I’ll worship it with my poetic verses

Sprinkling heavenly scents of attar

And bunch of Jasmines that you like

I'll lit the temple with camphor lights

In the midnight I will pour blood on

Deities to quench its insatiable thirst

I’ll offer gifts from the occult priests

Fulfil their wishes with your demonic

Powers that you used to destroy me !

Your greed and arrogance will be the

 Offering for the ooccultist pilgrims

Who have cruel wishes to fulfil at the

Expense of miseries  of their rivals!

 

A poem based on #reevesroses word prompt . Image from MasterFile