2 by 2 inch cloth

I held the 2 by 2 inch cloth in front of me,
Just like David stood triumphant over Goliath,
It blocked the glaring Sun, teasing my eyes,
We may be in harrowing times so often in life,
The hunch of fear on our back,
Pulling us down on the knees,
We hope for a saviour in hapless surroundings,
And forget there is a David in all of us,
Holding the 2 by 2 inch cloth,
To block the Sun and fight the belligerent Goliath.

Image Credits - Google Images
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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Blood on the Blackboard

Submitting this post to #MondayMusings - 9th November 2015

As I watch the world,
From my room today,
I see a tiny shoe under ashes,
A blackboard dripping blood,
I hear cries, loud and deafening,
Pristine souls preyed upon,
What I see the most is?
Morality, stripped naked,
While cowardice smirks us all,
This day is evidence of,
When “Shame” as an epitaph
is written on humanity’s tomb.
Every day there is;
A coffin buried,
A pyre on fire,
But if this is an offering to pseudo faith,
Then the coffin is heavier,
And the fire rages higher,
Now cruelty musters up,
Hope stands helpless,
We, the common, need to hold together,
Beyond numerous barriers,
To protect the lives of many
and memories of the dead.

Image Credit : Write Tribe
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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Why do I complain?

This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 57; the fifty-seventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​Madhu Vajpayee, the author of Seeking Redemption and Shades Publications, the publisher of Friendship- Bonds Beyond Time.

I speak of my miseries,
Like it is difficult to bear.
I share my sorrows,
Like that is all is left.
I cry out my failures,
Like success had me “spare”.
I expose my wounds,
Like healing will never be there.

And then –
The homeless man smiles and says,
“Hold my hand”;
Ushers me to his land of nothingness,
where every moment he struggles;
The bone freezing breeze,
The gut wrenching hunger,
The diseased pathway bed,
The rotten smelling dress,
The happy families passing by,
The stories of love,
The success of aspirations,
The everlasting feeling of being unwanted.

As I stand there with my numb soul,
I think to myself,
“Why do I complain?”

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 03.

Image Credits - Blog-a-ton
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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Sand, hand and the beach

 

This week's Blog-A-Rhythm prompt is the image you see here.

Sand, hand and the beach,
A classic combination to dreams,
Building castles or bunkers,
Minds working on their hunger;
Hunger to achieve.

Sand, hand and the beach,
A trip to relaxation for each,
Away from mundane dramas,
In nature's lap to breathe;
Breathe in sanity.

Sand, hand and the beach,
A rendezvous with "me",
After the tiresome lonely juggle,
To sit under the lamp-post and muse;
Muse about happiness.

Sand, hand and the beach,
An artist's imaginative field,
A canvas to creativity,
To carve and sculpt an idea;
Idea as fragile as life.

This post is submitted to Blog-A-Rhythm Wordy Wednesday #4_28 October 2015 #PicturePrompt.

Image Credits - Blog-A-Rhythm | Aditi Kaushiva
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad

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The secret of her bruises

This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 56; the fifty-sixth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write.

Like any other mundane Monday morning,
Boredom heavy on my shoulders,
Legs resisting the walk till the bus stop,
I board the everyday crowded bus.
Taking the window seat as usual,
I sip in, a little of the fresh breeze.
She comes and sits beside me in an ironed sari,
Unknown and beautiful,
We exchange courtesy smiles,
How I notice that bruise in her smile;
Leaking drops of blood,
She quickly wipes and casually says,
“I accidentally hit the wall”,
That is all and we part ways.

Next day still mundane,
The same routine walk and the bus,
A certain coincidence,
She sits beside me again.
Only today her sari has few creases,
And her hand burning in scratches,
“My cat did this in love”,
She says, answering my concern,
That is all and we turn our ways.

Third day, I wait,
Wait to meet her before the bus,
The bus leaves and another arrives,
Yet my eyes could not have her sight.
Then, fourth is the day when she comes,
I reserve her seat beside me,
To see if she is fine,
Avoiding everyone in the line,
No scratches, No bruises;
But a plastered arm;
And a packed journey bag,
Her first day smile was the last,
I sense an ache in my heart,
Finally she shares her secret,
Before the bus could start,
“No cat, no hit from the wall,
I have a partner who is brutally cruel.”

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 02.

October is also #DomesticViolenceAwarnessMonth

Anybody could be a victim to this menace, men, women or otherwise. However, the stories of close companions that I have heard have been mostly women. Hence, the protagonist of my poem is a female.

Image Credits - Blog-a-ton
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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This is the moment to believe

This is the moment,
I wish to tear myself
Let that knotted blob of emotions
Ooze out of me.

This is the moment,
I lacerate skin deep
To eradicate from within
Every ounce of that pain.

This is the moment,
I scream, shout loud
To vacate a space in my brain
For calmness to rent.

This is the moment,
I am awake, alert
Of myself,
And my being.

This is the moment,
When my failures inspire
No dreams should I desert
To latch on strong and believe.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

WOW Prompt (September 12 - 13)- "I was inspired to follow my dreams"

Image and Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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If I could eat the air over The Everest

TWEET this!

What do I do ?
In a world full of you,
who disagrees to agree,
with every thought that is free.
Free like the ;
freedom to say what I say,
to care or not to care,
to own that space in the world,
where I can write my name in bold,
to break a frame of me,
to be and just let be,
to ride on the smoke of a bike,
then fly hinged to a kite,
to type, retype and erase,
that which I dislike in a phase,
or nothing at all yet in a zest,
I could eat the air over The Everest.

Doodle and Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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To Independence

This post has won the Blogadda WOW badge.

There's a mountain somewhere that waits for a path,
There's a river that urges to clean her dirt,
There's a land, parched long to crop,
There are hands stretched forward in hope,
There's a border always on fire,
There are riots within that never retire,
There's a town congested in her smoke,
There's a cyclone awaiting to choke,
There's a stampede of billion desires,
So many superstitions yet to expire,
But this day,
A reminiscent of her freedom stories,
Inordinately hopeful;
Mother India smiles, free from all worries.

[Just like we have a lot of worries in our lives, so does our nation, India. There is this one day, our birthday, when we forget all the worries and smile in joy. So does our nation, India.]

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

WOW Prompt (August 15 - 16)- "Mother India smiled, free from all worries"

Image Credits - Sand Artist Sudarshan Patnaik's creation for this year [Google Images]
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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Sans luck's charm

 
Luck
smiles on,
in a charm;
What more you want?
Instead have believe.
Perseverance to strive,
Unabashedly sanguine,
Even on wretched ship, looks fine.
Just like this, an artisan's sculpture,
Sculpt a life yourself sans luck's charming smile.

The form of this poem is ETHEREE(Forward). It has an interesting play of syllables in each of the 10 lines giving the poem its structural appeal.
The Forward Etheree has increasing syllables with each line from 1 - 10.
The Reverse Etheree has decreasing syllables with each line from 10 - 1.

This post is also shared at International Bloggers Association (IBA).


Image Credits - Writer's Ezine_Arti Honrao
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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Tribute

There are souls that ignite minds,
Giving wings to fly, above and high,
Shining bright as they live along,
In simplicity their kind dwell,
Hoarding aspirations,
Achieving goals,
Inspiring the common as they soar,
When they walk beyond the horizon,
To those lands far, far away,
They leave behind their success trail,
And a legacy for us to emulate.

(A humble Tribute to one of the most loved man of India.)

Image Credits - Google Images
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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Whoop, Screech, I say "Hi"

Chit chatter, whoop, screech,
We come in a group, hanging on trees,
Dancing and jumping on branches together,
Babies holding onto their mothers,
“Naughty little troop” is our name,
We love playing so many games.

Brown round bodies, hands and feet,
A long winding tail; bananas we eat,
We love each other and live in a pack,
Just like you, we also laugh,
So, now do you know, “Who am I?”
Think a little while and give a try.

(Few lines and new rhymes for the kids to enjoy.)

Image Credits - Google Images
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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Where are the little brown birds ?

In the large open veranda of my old house,
A tree stood beautifully tall.
Chirping gleefully on it,
little brown birds there were,
Swiftly flying and hoping around,
“Noisy little creatures”,
My grandpa would shout.
In some nooks and corners,
Or branches of that tree,
They built their home.
Come evening, they would all be gone.

Time moved on and I moved out,
Leaving behind the brown birds and my home town.
Some holidays, one summer when I returned,
The house was there but that tree no more,
No tweeting; no noise;
On the veranda floor.

I looked in the nooks,
And those corners where;
some hay and twigs used to play.
All clean and tidy, everywhere,
Now aesthetics of the house
had to be taken care.
Saddened and in dismay,
I boxed in hope to see them.
But since that eventful summer day,
I have not spotted a sparrow again.

Let's plant a tree,
and build their nest,
And wait for a while,
Till the little brown birds,
Return home.

Image Credits - V.V. Krishnan -The Hindu (Google Images)
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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Blue

With a pearl white background,
The bright blue lilies adorn well,
Then on the side,
at the edge of the vintage wooden fence,
The blue bicycle rests.
A series of shades of blue –
light; dark;
navy; sea;
cobalt; teal; azure;
and the classic denim,
Hang from the clothesline.
Since yesterday no one picked them up,
And I am happy no one did,
For these shades add colour to my blue mood.

I sit on this chair,
Overlooking my neighbour’s lawn,
where the blue lilies and bicycle stay.
I search for my fountain pen
And the royal blue ink,
To write a few lines on this bluish scene.

Image Credits - Google Images
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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To, The bold me

This post is selected for the Tangy Tuesday picks (June 30th, 2015) by Blogadda.

Losing self and esteem that holds me strong

I trudge through the right and many wrongs

Visit memories where there was

confidence in abundance

To know how I survived

moments that choked me

to breathlessness;

I want that

Bold me,

Again.

This poem form is ETHEREE(Reverse) which I learned very recently. It has an interesting styling of syllables in each of the 10 lines. This also gives the poem a visual appeal.
The forward Etheree has increasing syllables with each line from 1 - 10.
The reverse Etheree has decreasing syllables with each line from 10 - 1.

Image Credits - Google Images
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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Diamond Dew

This post is selected for the Spicy Saturday Picks (June 27, 2105) by Blogadda.

To the beauty of the ladybug,
A leaf stares awestruck,
Each day to express his love,
He waits for the sun at dawn,
Clad in serenity when she walks,
He gasps; no words fall,
Another sleepless night goes by,
Wandering in her thoughts,
The leaf decides his final call,
To express thy love to the ladybug,
So when she comes again,
With the glistening morning rays,
He gifts a diamond dew and proposes.

Image Credits - Writer's Ezine_Arti Honrao, Google Images
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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What’s Divine?

What’s divine?
A conscious belief or
Forced tradition,
May be an eternal argument,
Of HIS existence and beyond,
I know not of the power,
Because I'm touched by the love,
Not in exchange; in exchange of,
Incense sticks, prayers;
Candles, promises;
Or fasts and flowers;
Rather unconditional.
I speak of THEE, to THEE,
like a friendly bond,
Sharing and accusing,
The little nothings and everything,
From finding my lost eraser
to guiding me in my lost path.
And when I see around me,
A world so strangely beautiful,
in its differences and union,
I believe there’s an unknown artist,
Busy in HIS timeless design.

This poem is published in an anthology, HEAVENLY HYMNS by PoiesisOnline.

Image Credits - PoiesisOnline
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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Royal Sweetness

A bite into its juicy fibrous body,
Your taste buds are excited,
with the strike of sweetness, so royal.
Your nonchalant pleasure,
Trickles down from the corner of your mouth,
Sweltering heat, no time to bother.
The aroma itself is enchanting,
Draws you cunningly towards itself,
No matter what resistance comes.
Until each strand of its flesh,
Has consumed your appetite,
And soaked your soul with satisfaction,
It continues to embrace you with its regal delight.

Another poem on the Summer season - Summer's welcome kiss

Image Credits - Google Images
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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The China Clay Cup

Early morning when sleep is still comfortable on your bed,
She comes down with her armour and shield,
A broom in her hand and a basket to collect the dried leaves,
Smoothly, she sweeps the road and side-walk too,
All this, for a petty pay and some food.
You get up in your lazy mood,
Call her for that extra work,
And when she is done and dusted through,
You wait her up for tea and rusk.
You search through your kitchen,
In the dark corner behind the cupboard,
with one hand in, you find something.
The half-broken china clay cup from last year,
In which you now, pour her the hot tea,
You give her as if it is special,
And she soothes herself well,
For she is promoted now,
from the rusted tin can to the china clay cup.


Image Credits - Google Images
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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The Nocturnal Darkness

“I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night”
I so agree with this beautiful quote by Sarah Williams.

I sometimes wonder is light the solution for darkness or just the absence of darkness? If that was the case then we would not fear when there is light. But we do. And if light was a solution to darkness, the Creator would have never brought night so beautifully after the day. There is excitement in the uncertainty of the darkness just like it is with life. I believe darkness gives as much hope as light does. It is important how we perceive it because there is charm in everything, even darkness.

I am always fascinated by the darkness of the night. Somehow it attracts me.I feel comfortable and relaxed. In fact I am more focused in what I do, particularly during the night time. I prefer to work at night and more often the laptop light is just enough for me. In fact while searching the net, I found this word,nyctophilia (noun) which means love of darkness or the night.

There is peace in the silence that persists. There is no one to disturb you but your thoughts. I feel all the energy that drained out in the mundane jobs of the day gets rejuvenated at night. This definitely helps me create my poetry the way I envision them. So for me ‘switching on the lights’ signifies that which helps me switch on my inner self. And in my case it is darkness.

Like always my closing paragraph is a poem.

I wait for the nocturnal darkness,
The silence and the calm,
To the rhythm of heavy breathing,
When every sound becomes distinct,
Like each of them is free,
Standing out from one another,
No more fading into the noise.

I wait for the nocturnal darkness,
That clears my mind,
When the neurons summon thoughts,
To weave them together
into the vision I perceive.
In this low decibel around
when I can hear myself out,
I talk about the dreams
that otherwise sleep would steal.

I wait for the nocturnal darkness,
For such relief I feel,
To be what I am,
Blooming like the jasmine.
Unperturbed by none's presence,
It spreads its sweet fragrance.

I wait for the nocturnal darkness,
For the thousand stars to arrive,
Giving me hope to shine like them, bright.
That which light brings to many,
Is hidden for me in the night,
And when I switch on my lights,
I get that darkness enough,
enough to know myself right.

This post has won the Blogadda WOW badge.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
WOW prompt (May 16-17) - 'I switched on the lights'

Image Credits - Google Images
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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Escape the block

I desperately scribble on the paper,
As if it would write something onto itself,
I barely get a line completed,
All I want is to escape this block,
This block in my mind; in my life,
Where stagnancy has become permanent,
A hurdle after every inch of movement,
Every time I start afresh,
The same confusion bites again,
The gap between the two questions,
What should be done?
What I want to do?
Never seems to collapse,
I wear a barbed tiara,
It will give bruises and cuts,
I know and I fear them none,
What I need is the dose of courage
to escape the block –
in my mind, in my life.

Image Credits - Google Images
Poem © Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

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