POETICbug

Cry of my empty womb

Of flesh and blood,

I write this story,

Untidy, unstrung chords,

Unforgotten lullaby lost,

Crippled cradle cries,

Knitted socks unwind,

To cuddle, to dandle,

A broken toy lies,

As plaits and red ribbons,

Traverse a torturous journey,

Might, mightier, mightiest wins,

Her first breathe incomplete,

Her last cry unheard,

As an un-satisfied family

and a helpless mother,

Stand to witness,

my daughter's brutal murder,

Filled with guilt and pain,

All I have is your wondrous nine months

and now shame,

No flesh, no blood in me remains,

Only your carcass;

And my empty womb laments.

{Even today somewhere in some clumsy corner someone will be forcibly aborting a girl child, mercilessly. To all of them I request, please STOP ! I would not be writing this today if I wasn't lucky enough to be born to my parents. So please try to be lucky for your child whether boy or girl.}

This poem is published in the Fox Chase Review Summer 2014 edition.
(http://www.thefoxchasereview.org/poetry.html)

This poem also features in The Fox Chase Review nominations for Best of the Net 2014. http://foxchasereview.wordpress.com/2014/09/28/our-nominations-for-best-of-the-net/

© Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

With You, forever

"I would be dusted,
Cleared off in ashes one day,
But it would only be the flesh,
That I loved you,
Loved you beyond imagination,
Imagination of the heart,
Would stay back as a memory,
In you, with you and around you forever."

© Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

Shyla

The first drops on the soil
Inundates the air with
The earthy aroma
And her intoxicating beauty
As if she was young again
Fresh and green

Leaning on the terrace walls
Dripped in the first rain
I quietly watch over to my side
Where she is smiling at him
From the corner of her eyes
Reminding him of her charm
And he returns her a flying kiss
As the breeze touches her
She hides her face and moves away
But he holds on
To her hands
Still soft and shivering
Like their first meet
She taps him with poise
And he says in love,
"Shyla your hands look wrinkled.
Are you 16 or 60?"
She giggles like sixteen, replies,
"You forgot again ? I am 72, dear."

# Shyla, the ever young sweetheart

© Copyright Salvwi Prasad (POETICbug)

Haiku - Weaver

This is my second year in A to Z April Challenge 2014.

After the enriching experience of 2013 I decided to continue yet again. And this time more streamlined. As I was learning to write 'haiku' I thought to make it my theme for this year's challenge. I learnt haiku with a image is far more captivating and so I will try to combine my haiku with a relevant photo. I am sure with so many experienced poets participating in this challenge I would get the right kind of feedback for my haiku to improve. There could not be a better forum than A to Z April Challenge to get readers and reviewers for your work. I am thankful for this opportunity to the entire team.

Day 21 - Letter W

WEAVER