Two black bugs and sixteen red ants

Originally published in IBW on Feb 7, 2012

Frank went deep into the bush
Hiding from his father’s stare
Saving himself from Amanda’s eyes

Amanda is more a mother than sister
And he finds her more intimidating
Than the wild bugs in the bush

He eyed two black bugs crawling chameleon
Frank picked one by one balancing in his two wannabe fingers
Dropped them immediately into the empty jam bottle

Then, he looked for preys here and there, all around and over
Not finding anything interesting and little upset
He settled for the tiny red ants on the tree above him

Sixteen red ants, venomous and perfect
Then closing the bottle lid quickly
Frank lounged quietly as he shook the bottle intermittently

The two black bugs and the cavalry of sixteen red ants
Fought historic epic battle till they all tossed for life
And eventually died to the eight year old’s whim.

(C)mimpi

City nights

The night that was ~  23/04/2017

As deep darkness spread over city night

I gazed deep into the dying light,

It smoothly transcended into silhouettes

Forming deft pieces of animated cutouts,

Then melting into intriguing human forms

I stalked till they died to city norms.

24/04/2017

(C)mimpi

Daily salsa

Daily salsa

Danced onto the wheels
Doing wobbly salsa moves
Sparkled like a queen



20/04/2017
(C)mimpi

So what you didn't come?

So what you didn’t come
I sat by the window
Looked up to the playful sky
Winked at the stars
Smiled naughty at the crescent moon
The moon decked in glitters
Ready to have a ball
We exchanged glances
With throbbing hearts
Told our endless stories
Held hands, tickled and tapped
We went for a never ending waltz
The stars twirled and giggled
The night mysterious
Endless and enigmatic
So what you didn’t come?




(C) MouD June 2011

Flower

A Flower Tells Us A Hundred Words…
 

Pristine, chaste, tender, intense
A flower shows us the way to God
Or way to our inner selves, our soul
It brings in a sense of awe, wonder, peace
Love, memories, nostalgia

Every time I look at a flower – dew fresh and serene
I feel, I am looking at the eyes of a naive child
A child, who is eager to be cuddled and touched
I touch the tender petals, breathe the aroma
And leave it there to grow to feel the bliss forever

(C) MouD May 2010

Love me without rhetoric

Love me without rhetoric

Don’t say that I am different,
Don’t say that I am special,
Don’t say that the wind will not whisper without me
Don’t say that I make you feel like all that cliches 
And then leave me

Don’t surprise me when I am dead asleep dreaming
Don’t surprise me with cats-bring-home kind of mess
Don’t surprise me with all the flowers the florist around the block has
Don’t surprise me on the darkest of days with cakes and say it is my birthday
And then leave me

Surprises do not amuse me any more
They twirl me with fearful premonition
Love my normal self, make me feel like an ordinary person
Love me because you really love me and you really do
Love me without rhetoric


(C) MouD October 2010

Absence

'Because you were not there...'

Holiday cheers, sparkles, stars and glitters
Ol' man Santa in red hood and happy sack

The chill in the wind, the hollering crowd
The woollens, the socks, the winter oranges
And the little hearts gurgling

Holidays have the same flavor
The dry leaves that murmur
The wind that whistles dry

The cascading crowd that stifles
And my eyes that glitter of fortified tears

(C)mimpi

Color my heart

Originally published in IBW

The sky splashing colors
Blue red, oranges
Dark green, light green, purples, pinks

The best is the not-so-red color
The virgin red is very close to my heart
Full of hope, power and love

So what it’s not-so-red?
Difference between red and not-so-red
Is just a shade or two

You give the not-so-red
And I will color my heart a shade darker
A perfect virgin red.

Who are you?

Originally published in IBW

Who are you?
Who really are you
You find more happiness in my pains
Than in your own happiness
You await my sad moment to be happy
You highs do not seem to amuse you anymore
You find solace in my humiliation
You stalk me instead of contemplating your life
You smile when I cry
You hate it when I laugh
Who really are you
Who are you?

Happy birthday my girl

Originally published in IBW

The hand pulling rickshaw puller
Struggled his feet through the
Hot and burning stone street
The lady sat fat with lot of extra shopping weight
Her right hand never stopped feeding her mouth
She ate as if there would be no tomorrow
And the puller pulled like there would be no tomorrow
His feet all bare and rough
The soles tough, distracting the stones
The sun was merciless
He eyed a bunch of young people
Gorging on the colored drinks
Two children playing with ice cubes
The lady still munching the snacks
The puller rode like a horse now
He can’t waste any time
He has to meet his little girl
Who’s been waiting since forever
He needs 20 rupees more
To buy her a birthday gift
The gift she’s been wanting since last year
The puller got the fat lady down safely to her house
Took  the money, sidelined the rickshaw
He went to an ever old, shabby shoe shop
Shopped for a couple of chappals
Bought his choice and came home
Wearing the sandals in blue straps
His girl gave him a big hug and a tearful kiss
He finally made her day.

Festive newness

The cumulonimbus sky beckons The concrete nature turning lucid There is something in the air hard to define The fun frolic newness New clothes, new plans, new hopes New sky, new color, new love The old Durga – in this new world Live the festive newness Originally published in IBW