Durga

image source here

Like Durga Herself I am home

My mother celebrates our coming

She waits like Menaka* for the whole year

For this festive month

Alas! Where is Giriraj** my father?

There is joy everywhere

Nature drapes herself in beauty

Human-butterflies flit and enjoy

Pandal hopping***sucking honeyed festivity

Alas! Autumn’s misty eyes shed leaves

On this auspicious day

My only prayer for the daughters of my land is—

Be Thou Durga

Ride the lion of faith

Destroy Evil forever and bless one and all

                      

*Menaka is the mother of Durga

**Giriraj is the Himalayas, the father of Durga

***The makeshift huge structures where the beautifully handcrafted idols of Goddess Durga are kept and people enjoy seeing them. There are thousands of such podiums where idols of Durga are installed along with stunning artwork and light décor throughout the cities, towns and villages.

 

 

Posted for Abhra’s prompt Modern Mythologies @ dVersePoetics

Magic

image source here

Rabbits raining from an empty hat

Or the beautiful lady being cut in halves

Man walking on the flowing Thames

Or Criss Angel coming out breaking chains

We see you

Amazing magicians!!

And your art!!

 

A tangerine sky strains the sun from dark hours

Myriad life forms to sparkle forever

For unbearable life there’s death’s caress

Law tied cosmos can’t dream of a chaos

We can’t see you

Amazing Magician

Where Art Thou?

 

Posted for the prompt Magic @ Poetry Jam

Create a Festival

image source here

String lays of all tongues into a sparkling garland of rhythm and dance

 

 

(This is written in American Sentence of seventeen syllables)

 Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Heritage Day @ Poets United

Playful Clouds

image source here

It’s time  

Clouds ought to put forth

Their white sail

Smile indulgingly

At the Kans grass

Be happy

Seeing their pretty faces

On the placid sheets of water

Where honey talks are going on

Between the blue lotus and the bee

And look at the glistening fronds

Swaying gently and beckoning

The festive days

But the naughty clouds

Won’t listen to you

Putting on black garbs

They’ll pass time

In nightly carousal

And if you are alone like me

Waiting for the loved ones

To return home safely

Then you are their chosen victim

They will break into your house

Turn everything topsy-turvy

And make you dance

All the while they are in

Their play is our ordeal

Will they ever know that?

 

Posted for Alan’s prompt Clouds @ Poetry Jam

Space

image source here

Frosty light squeezed in

Between hues of fall and spring

A white space of chill

image source here

A wordless cold war

Sapping color, warmth and love

A bridgeless vast gap

image source here

A space odyssey

The blue planet bids farewell

Ties are still intact

Posted for HaikuHorizons prompt “Space”

&

Shared with Real Toads

Protesters*

university students raise their voice against atrocities
of police & demand ouster of Vice Chancellor
image source here

The darkness

Hid them all

Even their suffering

But their musical voice

Clapping of hands

Pulled the sun hard

From the dark horizon

The hostile sky was forced

To smile in colors

Of rainbow

I know

That color band is not for long

Will there be a storm?

If there is let there be

I love their song

Halla bol Halla bol**

                

*Braving rains thousands of students from Presidency University, Calcutta University, Jadavpur University (JU) and other educational institutions marched on Kolkata streets on Saturday in a show of solidarity demanding resignation of JU VC after the alleged brutal police action on students inside JU Campus in the early hours of Wednesday.

 

**Raise your voice in Hindi

 

Posted for Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

Travel

image source here

Some people are crazy

Bitten by the wander-lust bug

They would vie for

Looking at the same sun

Same moon and the same blue sky

To carve out a new meaning

They would risk their life

On the moon soil

Scratch their head

If they could have a mermaid dance

In the Mariana Trench

In the pacific

And some would delve deep

Into their soul

Listening to the song

Of consciousness

Entreating them

To open their eyes

To the cosmic dance

In their whole being

Through countless births

 

We all live for this craziness

Because this is life

 

Posted for Gabriella’s prompt Travel @ dVerse Poetics

Harvest

                                                   source here                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

In this land of festivals

Paddy harvesting

Brings color and joy

Many States

Celebrate harvesting  

In diverse names

In Kerala it’s ‘Onam’

‘Bihu’ in Assam

‘Nabanna’ in Bengal

Tamil Nadu’s ‘Pongal’

From north to South

And east to west

All want to live in joy

In harmony and in peace

So in the name of harvest

No one misses the chance

To sing and dance

Design Rangoli*

In the hope

Of bringing good luck

Seeking happiness

And embracing tradition

                    

*Traditional Indian decorations and patterns made with ground rice, flour, colored sand, sawdust or flower petals done usually during various festivals keeping both the art form and tradition alive.

 

 

Posted for Mary’s prompt Harvest @ Poetry Jam

September

Kans grass under a turquoise sky: image source here

I saw her

Tip toeing

In her deep turquoise sari

Embroidered all over

With white fleecy clouds

I saw her

Drinking

Dewdrops from leaves and grass blades

And hanging out the feathery banners

Of Kans grass on the river banks

I saw her  

Wiping off

The salty sweat of weary workers

And loosening their fetters of duty

On their busy fields

I saw her

Weaving

Joy in every heart for celebration

Of the coming festive season

Her Sheuli garland, lotus petals sing fragrant songs

 

 

Sheuli flower: image source here

Posted for Grace’s Sunday’s Mini-challenge: September Sky @ RealToads

&

Shared with Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

Sea

image source here

The words

I see have wavy face

Their space

Boundless and unfathomable

As I walk by their shores

Every single sunrise and sunset

Of everyday wear a virgin look

I think of tides, currents, expeditions,

And history of course

 

The words

Breathe salty air so closed to life

I dive into their depth

Holding my breath

Ah breathtaking truths, beauty

And dark hollows

Come in sight

No one knows if ever any light

Will there reach

 

The words

Are here from

Time immemorial

Breaking on the shores of heart

Reflecting a world within a world

Spoken, written, sketched, etched, sculpted and sang

By genius and common man

For me, you and all

 

Posted for Peggy’s prompt Sea @ poetry Jam

A Birth

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In suffocating pressure

Heart and soul burn

Gasp for a dot of air, light

And pray a million years

To be released

From the hellish dungeon

Once out

Days of

Planning, Cleaving, Bruting

Begin; days drag on

Till bathing in acid

Is done meticulously

Only then the pallor is gone

A radiant luster peeps

The whole body glows

The diamond smiles

All suffering ends

Without darkness

There is no birth of light

                

Posted for Anthony’s prompt @ dVerse Poetics – Bringing Light To Darkness

Three Witches

image source here

Weird sisters

Dance around the light

Regicide

                           

 

Posted for Mag 236 @ Magpie Tales

 

An Ordinary Life

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The first time I saw you

When our garlands were exchanged 

On the wedding night

The first time I touched you

When our hands were tied by mantras

There was happiness all around

With tearful eyes my baba and ma

Gave my hands to you

To take me far away from them

Love was not at first sight

But there was no dearth of promise

By God’s grace we could give

A loving home to our only child

A very ordinary life

May not be with much color

With pomp and grandeur

With loud laughter and songs

Or feet aching dancing

Neither any rocking earthquake

Nor spewing of lava

Avalanche or quicksand engulfing all

I wonder why we are not

Bored to death

But we are not

May be because

The life is so ordinary

                   

Posted for Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

A Day in Progress

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I’m on the brick pathway as chiming clock tells me to move on. It takes a few steps from my door to reach there. As I walk I grieve for the vanishing thickets with their birdsongs and all the trees that have made room for the concrete. Vultures hover for a stray dog’s carcass. The narrow lane is littered with cow dung and dog turd. My rickshaw puller comes to take me to school. He grieves too. The battery driven eco friendly Totos have arrived in my town carrying more passengers, plying with more speed and less fare.

              

Blazing blue above

Black glasses cover all eyes

Brave sunshine school kids

 

Last minute preparation for Teacher’s Day Celebration is in full swing. Sweat streams as teachers and students rehearse their one act play and others remain busy in their own work schedule. One red and yellow batik print cotton shawl is needed for the dance recital. The teacher responsible is asking us if we could lend one. Ah flashes of lightning, strong wind and torrential rains rejuvenate every spirit. We all wait for a cool bright 5^th September*.

 

My clean red brick road

Sparkling eyes dispel darkness

Soft prayer ripples

 

 

*5^th September is celebrated as Teacher’s Day all over India in fond memory of the great teacher, philosopher, scholar and the second President of India Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan (1888-1975).

 

This is my first attempt at a haibun. I am not sure if I did the form justice.

 

 

Written for MTB d’Verse 

Stormy Weather ( A Tanka )

image source here

Flashing nails tearing

Clouds into thousand pieces

She pines, heartbroken

Storm in a tea cup rises

All armchair politicians

 

 

Written for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Stormy Weather @ Poets United

                                                     

 

Jeans

source here

I really am an antique piece

I walk in sari, prefer flip-flops

A lady height impaired

 

Not extravagant

Never swoon over new fashion

Yet I like jeans

When next gen wears them

 

Not all varieties

 

Tattered or pencil ones

Are my eyesore

 

And

 

I am totally a fashion police

If an Indian lady my age

Puts them on

 

Why?

 

It’s….umm…..a faux pas

 

Why?

 

Jeans give them a droll look

So devoid of roots

 

I’m in a pall of gloom

 

Written for Laurie’s prompt Jeans @ Poetry Jam

The Speaking Tree

No one’s here to talk aloud

Talk, talk, talk aloud

My lips are sealed

My word weary soul

Rests, rEsts, reSts

Songbirds wrest peace

From a whirlwind

And drop it into my heart

My eyes wearing the sky as kohl

Sees a world emancipated

From the fetters of word

I hear my magnolias speak

In brave, bold, fiery colors

Of those drops of blood

That were, are and will be

Shed, shed, shed everywhere

Wise, old leaves lying on the ground whisper

Assure me of Time, Peace, Birth and Fall

Colors, colors, colors reign here

My world speaks in hues

And connects all

 

This is for d’Verse Poetics where we are writing poems on Claudia Schoenfeld’s art

I chose Claudia's my magnolias but I could not get it published for some unknown error. The sketch is wonderful and I wish someone would write on it. However I am posting mine.