Madam Giselle
feminine, Literature, poetry, satire

Madam Giselle’s Tragedy

“Makeupum Divina lipstickum 

Hail Oh, scentum , perfumee lios

Goddess Stilettum que sara sara”

 

Madam Giselle woke up to one glorious afternoon,

and damn those long-long lashes stretching little

over than the river Nile. Sparkling stilettos towering 

way above the heights of the leaning Towers of Pisa!

Having Insight 24 inches waist Madam stretched her back,

skillfully squeezed her belly to adorn golden Victorian 

corset, but it wasn’t to be easy for Gods have conspired and

were hell bent to bring down the penniless heiress from the

25 floor Ivory Castle.

As madam painted her face white with crushed powders of

corals from the far-off Gulfs in the fashions of Japanese Geisha

Fluttered fake lashes, ostentatious snobbish smiles extending

little more than her chiseled jaws, heavily armored with

 French powder and perfumes.

All the effort to slay any man who dare to passed by, hurriedly made

her way through the narrow allies of apartment suit in a

perpendicular fashion to avoid crushing her precious creases.

Oh so much pride, such high vanity, but she is indeed a beauty!

Tragedy fell upon! A loud thunder as heavens roared

heels cracked the sparkling Stilettos fell apart before her careful

gaze giving way to the bare ankles. It was to be the

first omen,

Acrimonious beings floating  fluttering in air laughing,

giggling; a loud thunder & descended million unwelcome

tiny crystal droplets, soaking the kohl smudged eyes

cascading into pools of black waters….

“Why it had to happen to me” ,cried Madam Giselle

Was my crime to be in vain or was it just a naive disdain?

But a little pride is not bad for a woman of my type!

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countdown
poetry, satire

Daylight Saving

The days of grand Camelot are over,

dark ashen damp dew now hovers; 

The freshly baked pies are a hoax

At least that’s what we have been coaxed

Daylight saving is now fluctuating

Am I still hallucinating? 

When glorious God said let their be light 

he knew not over here it was still night.

Intellectuals and their thoughts

but  there are no causes to be fought

Wordsworth’s English daffodils are blooming 

once again my lazy brain is fuming.

I overslept thinking it was a raven night,

but weather channel said it’s all hyped

get up there is enough light!

Green goddess Springdales has arrived

Wait I don’t see a single twig in sight,

my neighbor’s garden is still white!

 

 

Gypsy
life, satire

Performance

Appearances kept to disguise

the gaunt silhouette 

inside, mindless words

uttered to subdue

million cacophonies of shrunken

brains, smiles and more smiles to

contain the pools of burgundy

pain, plastic tulips 

silver cutleries and the glorious 

dead shrimp lying in bed of frozen

sprouts while giving away

the performances 

of life-time. 

 

Mysterious melody
poetry, satire, sensual, woman

Madam Neverhurry’s Mysterious Malady

Madame Neverhurry cousin

of  Gustav Flaubert’s

Mrs Bovary,awoke at past 12

Suffering from a malady

Known as melancholy,

Casts her glance on the

Day’s chore, bored puts

The blinds back on, deciding

To have some high tea,

Summons, mischievous elves

On fire wings impatient

Yells “to get lost and bring

Forth aromatic mint tea with

Hazel nuts three or four”

On first command the elves

Disappeared, conjuring

A mysterious tea in glasses

Of crystal while the Madame

Put powders and billows,

adorning her buffet with

One Exquisite Ostrich feather

competing with the slopes

of Alps, all while thinking of

day’s chores and bitchy gossips

to be done which caviar to

be served with what exotic wine

at customary evening suppers

while discussing a mysterious

malady  possessing modern ladies

known  something as depression

so much work to do all 

in a day, madam fainted

at 1 while still in satin beds

Personal elves hurried worried

Bellowing some wind trying

to revive with peacock

fans, “oh poor madam,

suffering pangs of

melancholy once again”

 

( Dedicated to all my beautiful women who loves to get up past noon)

 

Inspiration, life

Cold Insight

Hello all,

I hope you all are doing fine, well the cold in my part is not going away. Due to frigid cold all my creative juices have seemed to be frozen , I am being knocked down by strong currents of  weather related gloom, well two things that are keeping my sane are Exercise and Cartoons. I have some divine callings as well, I am often thinking of higher entity as well. I feel I need to be less materialistic and do away with my cosmetics, carbs and insecurities ( my allowance and in-law😉s).

I can be possessive at times over my stuff and people but my new gained cold insight tells me that I need to let go of all the possessions.  Although I don’t take myself very seriously but I need to try to be more humble. Let everything go, and take a holy dip in frozen lake somewhere . Kids will eventually grow up and leave, (cosmetics have already frozen) husband has his life too, what good is holding on? Attachment is the cause of all the suffering as Buddha says and very aptly so! I wish I can take a refuge somewhere in Himalayas, I know I have a monk inside me somewhere. But there are few things I can’t leave, carbohydrates (Chips, Pasta and Pizza), Cosmetics (lipsticks mainly) and Books ( although I read less now a days).

Well Ill catch you all later, I’ve to go to spa for my routine massage and then may be over nice glass of red wine and glazed shrimp, ill introspect more over possessions and attachments!!

Take care !

 

 

leaves
Literature, Love, Nature, poetry

Psalms

When I was young, I believed in

emerald elves & golden goblins,

they lived in tranquilly behind

the tall elephant grasses, a glee

takes over my face when I see

vision of the whispering cloud

A raven grim hovering around

murmuring secrets of azure skies

I can overhear the gentle cries

of sullen crickets in intricate colonies

Unlike man there are no phonies

tremendous peace and calm

prevails amidst melody of nature’s

Scared Psalms !

 

Misfortune
poetry, Soldier

The Soldier

Every time a son fails to return home, 

when the grim raven dusk descends;

A shooting star trails over the northern

horizon, leaving  behind million sparkling

diamonds, a hero is fallen in the battlefield,

my heart makes a shrieking sound, simply

breaking into two halves, his ground beneath

me stands still,birds in the brain stop chirping,

My boy hasn’t arrived home yet…. 

( Poem is dedicated to the brave IAF Officer Abhinandan Vartham, pray for his swift homecoming)

cacophony
Inspiration, life

Move On !!

For few dimes less in our pockets  

don’t fret ,let’s just move on….

Around you are bigger mansions than 

the squalor you dwell in don’t think

let’s just move on… 

Watching your only child play with

herself again, simply smile and

let’s  just move on…

The neighbour got a sparkling new

car, one that you will never own let be

and let’s  just move on….

Once again the boss didn’t bother  to

shack your hand, let it be and 

just move on….

The famed little black dress deceived 

you once more, it never fit you right?

Don’t sink ,just move on…

You waited enough for that kiss whose 

taste you never had …

Move on for there are no penance or

redemption yet, not everything in the

world  has a reason nor everything

meant to make any sense! 

 

 

 

 

promised land
Love, Nature, poetry, Travel

Migrant

A migrant, I’ve no tales

of herculean tragedy

to my name, you see

not every trip is planned

nor every destination

fixed, it was a chance I

stumbled upon few roads

knowing one day I’ll go

back, I walked hesitatingly  

meeting few along ,aware

that home is a person we

go back to, my golden

abode is calling, my time

here is running out but

I’ve one more path to 

undertake before I call

it a day!