missing
life, Literature, Nature, Uncategorized

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While you were searching

my whereabouts,I was standing

next to an oak tree…

when all the leaves came out

of deep slumber and the wintery

dusk descended, it was about

time for me to lurk beneath

those ancient roots and search

in raven labyrinths, the meaning

of icy darkness that possesses

you and me and hibernate with

-in them till eternity…

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Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Love, Nature, poetry

A Glance

 

A glance is enough for the heart to beat

to  transform naivety into shrewdness 

of some kind, many long for it in the ancient past

to moisten their dry parched youth, as the case

it never befalls where it ought to, yearnings

fossilized froze in the corner of heart, birds

never chirp on the skeletal trees, insects don’t

dwell in the deceased fallen barks, dimpled

cheek cupids doesn’t appear for those who

always wait and sigh, no ballads are sung

on the onset of  youth, nor a tear on its passing,

some do age without the grace of a glance

and leave the grim world  still longing for

 one glance.

 

Flower Wreath
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Literature, Love, poetry, Self-Help

Pride of A Flower Wreath

Weaved with a lot of skill and compassion

Oblivious stood erected in disdain 

Persian turquoise, Indian indigo…

You name it, and I had flowers of different valleys

Bathed in egotism, adorning-robe of pride

Relishing my pristine appearance, while

Scorning others, self gloating was my sin

Sure of my fate, to be embellished at 

reception decor Of heavenly virgin bride, 

I Spoke meticulously the tongue of vanity,

My artisan a blind simpleton 

Crafted me with great virtuosity 

A connoisseur of colors, arranged

Silk flowers with tears filled with pity 

But I basking in the glory of self adulation 

Elated, high browned  looked down on him.

On other customary bunches, turn after turn

Dates after dates,  final day arrived wrapped in laced

White Upholstery, escorted in a black Lemo

to a town of a black widows, shrieking wailing 

unwelcomed my arrival, roughly handled and bruised 

was placed on a coffin of one senile old man, whose

only act of courage was a piece of land where he 

was to buried.

 

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)

 

a hand out of sea
Nature, poetry

Oh! Destiny

Oh ! destiny I’ve

been hit hard by

waves of rejection

A grain of sand

I know my worth,

I’ve been shown

seashore too many

times…

Oh! Destiny tell me

it is not a Sisyphean

fate!

What I sought

I never got!

The mighty Gods

conspired cornered me to

the coast, I cried

pellucid tears

deliquesced

into salt sea-waters

solitary with the

dry wells and the 

ruddy coasts!

Oh! Destiny, I

desire a drop

of those crystalline

waters that I can call

my own!

Persian Laila
Humour, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, satire, wit,

The Persian Laila

Having feasted past-midnight, PersianLaila got up lazily at the stroke of twelve. Wearing her sparkling tiara, she rose with a numbing headache resultant of a hangover,

Caused by the left-over French champagne that she drank greedily from the China glass of her Benevolent master.

Her master’s darling she occupied a special place in his cozy lap and abhorred the site of her pot-bellied mistress,

For Laila considered her as a staunch-competitor and purred when ever she dared come near especially at long intervals of midnight drinks .

She would adorn herself on the left thigh of master and lick heavenly nectar only from the corner his pinkish wrinkled hands.

A site to behold midst bubblingchampagne and the smoke of expensive Cuban cigars. Her blue eyes drunk with envy and rage, she fought hard and with everyone for her master’s attention.

On rare occasions of evening strolls, she would walk with snobbish air and displeased countenance on the cobbled streets of rustic New York

Looking down with disdain on all other pussies in the town as she deemed them to be too causal and boring in the appearance,

For Laila came from the Persian peninsula from the house of the grand pasha of Azerbaijan, her great-grandmother the dark-eyed Hoorie was a favorite of the sultan-Suleiman

And what a cherished presence on all matters important of every concern but was slain on one moonless night by the jealous ladies of Sultan’s Harem,

All were fine, till troubles started to brew, for master was a man of excess and one Persian damsel was not enough and yearned for another beauty to occupy the vacant right thigh!

So brought a petite French this time, Annabella who had a legacy of her own, for she came-from the family of Master pastry chef, Monsuier Jean Paul employed in the house of King Louis XII

Both pussycats couldn’t look each other in the eye for both was endowed with looks and style to charm any.

One fine day while the master was away, in a brawl with each other both got their tails entangled, the mistress had enough and decided to sail one of them away…

And who better than the Persian Laila, for she was never in her good books. Hence a plan was hatched and poor Laila was swiftly hurried off to live with an old woman in quite a corner

Of the town and master was told a tale of how she eloped with neighbor’s Valentino who had-no history to boast of. 

Annabella now the reigning queen while Laila spent her time remembering the days of glory gone by.

Desires
Love, Nature, poetry

Lofty Desires

I aimed for the mountain

top while rare florets ooze

from the ground

beneath me, I longed

for the sparkling stars

neglecting the lapis lazulis

laying on the beds of the mighty rivers 

I craved to suckle on the

heavenly nectar, while

bees synchronized intricate

combs in my backyard

then when the dusk spread

its raven wings, I reclined

on my couch, cursing

the Fortuna for the missed

chances in Paradise, while

the orchards around prepare

for the early fruition.

wind's tale
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Legend, Nature, poetry, Spirtual

A Wind’s Tale

Started at 3 pm to look for morality,
Hours minutes pass by,
Walking waiting sleeping
But road to morality seemed long
On the curvy path few are busy,
Some in slumber, some don’t 
really care…

My guardian angel texted ” do not disturb”
Keep on marching, keep on trudging 
Perhaps one must ask what is the way
Met a wasted drunkard 
Stretching on the cracked pavement

Taste this nectar from the gods
You will find what you seek
I too was once like you
Follow the direction of the wandering wind
Swaying, dancing, howling 
It knows what you look.

Seven days and seven nights,
Chased the promiscuous wind from coast to coast.
Shrieking, screeching it leap up to me
With a licentious laughter…
Here you come finally like many,
Did you know ,I was cursed long ago.

To screech and sing in darkness,
For my promiscuity banished long ,
To consummate with hollow vacuums
To make love to woods in the dark,
For my crime, as she said
Two casual tears trickled down her gaunt cheeks
I dared to love thunder under the nose of clouds.
For which exiled to perpetual nothingness,
Fornication is a blasphemy in the book of creator.

While I yell, cry in empty voids,
Thunder is gracing the blue sky.
Morality is the privilege of very few
It’s the luxury of those who dwell in sky
As final words were said, thunder growled in the sky ,
Lighting struck on the nearby tree,
Scared and naked she vanished into woods.

Tanya Shukla

Words
Books, Love, poetry

Words Never Fail

I’ve filled the voids of my soul with

slants of words, the curvatures of

alphabets to gratify the endless

nights of effervescent

passions.

 

In the deepest abyss of malevolent

nights, I’ve implored the meanings

of your desertion through the

arches of letters.

 

The denied kisses through the

strokes of symbols, the dearth

of touch with caresses of

half-formed letters on crisp

blank papers.

 

At times I am riding on scripts

while others overwhelmed

under their weighty connotations,

you see my love words 

never fail!

 

For they can fill up empty papers,

hinge together differing

borders, like the elastic  

ropes you can stretch

them to suit bleak

realities of life.