glittering raindrop necklace
clinging to a naked branch
reminiscent I smile
spring sky explodes
jewel rimmed clouds shine
love’s smoky visions
In deep puddle
raindrops creates a ripple
wrinkles on moon
moonlit night
along the garden fence
Passion flowers
matchstick lights
your eyes catch fire
my lips burn
Satin sheets rustle
I inhale your warmth
our feet hug
(Image courtesy Internet.)
April Showers, hail storm and cool breeze delighted Delhi Residents today. The play of sunshine and clouds created lovely images in the sky. Here are four pictures from my terrace.
See more at http://www.associatedcontent.com/slideshow/15166/clouds_illussions.html
We all know about the damage caused to our eyes by today’s stressful life. Here are some tried and tested tips to make your eyes sparkle again.
See more at http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1633008/for_your_eyes_only.html
April rains.. swollen rainclouds.. pregnant ..ready to deliver . I watch the sky looking for some solitary eagle ..none.. only the dark floating drifting clouds. I open my arms to the universe above and close my eyes. cool breeze kisses my face softly .. a reminder … A raindrop falls on my closed eyelid and mingles with the tear which has silently come to the corner of the eye. The sweet and salty river glides down.
more rain, a sudden downpour , I stand still. The breeze turns into strong wind and carries with it the intoxicating smell of the wet earth. Parched ..like me.. i feel like the earth .. Mrinmayi .. OF THE EARTH …..how true ..how well he knew…
Drenched, I run my fingers through my hair.. cursing the day I cut them short they end before they even begin.
Slowly I open my eyes to the wet world and watch the trees jeweled by the water clusters. spiderweb necklaces of raindrops. A leaf curls and bends. A single raindrop hangs precariously ..teardrop…
Misty Blue sky …the sun desperately trying to peep from above the jeweled rim of a cloud. I am filled with sudden warmth.. again a reminder .. You.. I shiver as the warmth releases the cold wet feeling from my vulnerable body.
I cross my arms around me ..water dripping from clothes clinging to my body… color rises on my cheeks.
Nude feeling … your memory drapes me.
poetry in rain .. nothing could be better than that .
Tell me, is the rose naked…? by Pablo Neruda
Tell me, is the rose naked Or is that her only dress?
Why do trees conceal The splendor of their roots?
Who hears the regrets Of the thieving automobile?
Is there anything in the world sadder
than a train standing in the rain?
Day 7 .. A full week of fun writing. I chose the dirty prompt .. what else would you expect from me but then the poem turned out to be something just what I had not expected. That’s the beauty of writing poetry .
“Today is our first “Two for Tuesday” prompt of the month. On these days, I offer two prompts. Don’t worry: You don’t need to write a poem for each prompt (but you’re more than welcome to if you feel up to the challenge).
Prompt #1: I want you to write a clean poem. Take this however you wish. Clean language, clean subject matter, or cleaning the dishes. Of course, some twisted few will automatically link “cleaning” with hired hitmen. That’s okay, as long as your poem is somehow linked to clean.
Prompt #2: I want you to write a dirty poem. Take all that stuff I wrote in the first prompt and twist it upside down. The opposite of clean is dirty; so, do what ya gotta do to produce a dirty poem. (Gosh, I hope this challenge doesn’t get too messy as a result.)”
My contribution for day 7
UNTITLED
Little hand prints in red
On the door knob
On the walls
On the furniture
Up the stairs
On the terrace floor
I found him sitting
In a corner
His clothes
Smeared with paint, dirt,
Grass and twigs
His hair ruffled and
Sticky with grime
A twinkle in the eyes
His cheeks flushed with glee
A look of content and pride
Smiling I kissed his forehead
and cleaned up the mess.
Years later
I found again
Handprints in red
Dark and dirty
On the burning tar
They had dragged him
Through the blood-streaked dust and dirt
His body smeared by the color
Of communal animosity
I found him slumped in a corner
His shirt reddened from the
Fire of his heart
The same twinkle in his eyes
A look of content and pride
Of having saved some lives
I kissed his forehead
And smoothed his
Ruffled hair
He smiled with his
Bloody mud caked lips
“Mother, I hope someone will
clean up the mess” He said
And closed his eyes and slept
Tikuli
