Spider webs

Spider webs

Thread by silken thread of maybe
Of once used, discarded identity
We weave together a story of me
Designed to capture no other prey
But ourselves , our idea of what is to be
Entangled in our own webs, long to be free
Enmeshed , enchanted with our creations to varying degree
Yet we refuse to discard our absurd understanding, see
That we need to discard the me, to know reality
That the answer lies not in webs of complexity
But in the spaces between, where love breathes free
And in those moments when me is suspended , I agree
Is when I truly am , unfettered, to truly be.

--shubha

Fashion shows

Fashion shows

Crimson rouge spreads slow
Gold glitters on sun kissed brow
Autumn fashion shows

--shubha

I see you

I see you

Every morning and night for a minute or two,
In the mirror ,face to face, I see you,

I see the smiles, the sighs, the vanity and the grays too,
I see your triumphs, your struggles, through your excuses, a few,

Between what is expected of you,
I know you sometimes feel, that your hopes and dreams are see-through,

But for those few moments we meet each day, I see you,
And acknowledge you are important too.

--shubha

Someday , we must outgrow poetry

Someday , we must outgrow poetry

Someday, we must outgrow poetry
Leave behind half broken lines, meter
Chewed out essences of spent emotion
A world sewn together by our joy, our pain
Where a few words strung together
Cry out our momentary state to the world
To be fossilized for posterity
Where they can only come alive
Through shared feeling, their imagination

Yes, someday we must outgrow poetry too
Outgrow it with grace , effortlessly
Like we outgrew our jeans , our dolls
Sometimes, our dreams
Realize , that this is but a moment's place
It snapshots naught, but our world in that instant
And cataclysmic as it's shattering may be to you
It is still only yours

Yes, someday you must outgrow poetry
From your own perspective
That you may see her through others
That you may feel her ,for herself
That you may know her without words
That you may be free , even of her
That you may learn to read
The poetry of silence

--shubha

Taffeta dreams

Taffeta dreams


Rustling desires stir
Silken vines coil trunks, sap joy
Taffeta dreams snare

-shubha

The Journey

The Journey

Fire test

Test of fire burns
Hungrily consumes labels
Strips identity

Solitude

Hurt heals in wet drops
Understanding clothes in waves
Balm of solitude


The introduction

In reflecting pools
Of peaceful contemplation
Our introduction

--shubha

P.S  A few lines that came to me in response to three separate prompts , test of fire, solitude and self introduction on an online poetry group, The Wordsmiths. I have tried to string them together to tell an universal story of search  . 

Stench of coffee -- coffee stories

Stench of coffee -- coffee stories

She awoke with a start
Looked at the glowing numbers on the clock
Blow ! Late again ! She would have to hurry
Yet , she felt so fatigued , spent

Caught a whiff of coffee
Familiar nausea rose in waves
She swallowed , fighting it down

Her poor hubby
Had actually considered
Giving up his morning cup of joe
To avoid offending her sensitive nose

Of course , she hadn't let him
She knew how much  he enjoyed it
How much they had both enjoyed it
And yet that smell
Seemed to get hold of her insides
And pull them out

Navigating the break room
At work , to get to the bathroom
That she visited so often now
Was torture

In the kitchen , she found a plate
With still warm English muffins
Spread with peanut butter
Fresh squeezed orange juice
Her favorite breakfast
A hastily scribbled smiley face
On a post-it in his hand

It should have delighted her
But strangely repulsed her
She couldn't bring herself to eat it
What was happening to her ?
She wondered as she grabbed a banana hungrily
Banana? she loathed banana

She smiled, hand on her stomach
Giving up coffee for a few months
All these strange tastes, cravings
Was such a small price to pay
For the blessing growing within her

--shubha

Spring awakening

Spring awakening

On tiptoe , with gentle footsteps
Hope glides down a sunbeam
To dance in a patch of sunshine
To caress a sleeping, frozen earth awake
The wind blows her gentle kisses
Stirs deep within her an urge
To thaw , to open , to love
As she blooms, slowly unfurling
Spilling some of her secrets
Spring dawns to heady fragrances
Of wet earth, blooming hope

--shubha

P.S. In response to a prompt on an online group, wordsmiths with the following words , Wind, Fragrance ,Dawn,Spring, Patch of sunshine ,Footsteps and Caress .

A thousand caresses

A thousand caresses

What is this spring
That plays hide and seek
Like dappled light
In a patch of sunshine
In the woods

To bloom with fragrance of love
Momentarily , then wither
In the shadows that always follow

To dance with a lightness of step
That fold in their rhythm ,footsteps
Of impending loss

To throw cares to the wind
Flirt joyously with freedom
Only to rake them ,cares, carefully
Gather them with the brokenness
Of too much fragility

To awaken to a dawn of possibility
Knowing all the while that
Endeavor of the burning day
May consign lost hope to the darkness
Of nights' despair

To let the caress of a moment
Awaken a hope of a forever
Still knowing that cuts follow caresses
And we live and die in life
In a thousand caresses and cuts

--shubha


P.S. In response to a prompt on an online group, wordsmiths with the following words , Wind, Fragrance ,Dawn ,Spring,  Patch of sunshine ,Footsteps and Caress .

Between walls

Between walls

Those walls of my refuge
Old, stolid , flaking cement
With every bomb dropped
Bearing the bullet ridden stories
Of our lives torn apart

Those walls that still held up a roof
A false sense of security
A hope of a home
Those walls ,left behind

And these walls , so tall , forbidding
Topped with barbed wire
New, a bulwark of fear , hate
Raised, to keep us out

And between these walls
My life breathes in ragged gasps
A past torn asunder
A future in limbo

My bewildered tale
Travels dazed mazes
Between these walls

--shubha

P.S. A few lines that came to me in response to a prompt, "walls" on an online poetry group, The Woman Inc speaking to the refugee experience. 

Checkered stories

Checkered stories

In checkered squares
Of excitement, victory, defeat
A story of kings, queens, knights unfolds
In moves, strategies , playfulness

Kingdoms won and lost
In between these checked squares
Of black and white

A childhood blossoms
Runs free with friends
Disregarding wins , losses
Focusing on fun in playing
Blooms in all shades of color

--shubha

P.S. A few lines that came to me at a children's chess meet and I couldn't help but admire the blessed elasticity of childhood that rises so eaisly over trivialities of losses and wins .

Reaping poems

Reaping poems

Fertile soil of my imagination
Till with emotion of every season
Sow the seeds of many a impression
Water gently with thoughtful rumination
Watch over, prune with exacting deliberation
With gratitude, reap poems of Your benediction

--shubha

P.S  A few lines that came to me in response to a prompt , "farmer" on an online poetry group. 

Dust bowls

Dust bowls


Myopic greed rains
Farmers drown in debt's despair
Grow arid dust bowls


--shubha


P.s. In memory of the many farmers driven to suicide because of drought and debt. In response to a prompt of ."farmer" on an online poetry group .

Be a farmer

Be a farmer

Sow the seeds of good
Till, weed this field of your heart
Reap satisfaction

--shubha

P.S. A few line sthat cme to in response to a prompt of farmer on an online poetry group . Inspired by a quote from a discourse by Sri Sathya Sai Baba .

Many seasons

Many seasons

We live in many seasons
All at the same time
Know the nascent promise of spring
The fullness of summer
The separation, acceptance of Autumn
The deep inward journey of winters' quiet
All these seasons we carry within ourselves
To explore , experience in turn
And in amalgamation of the experiences
Discover ourselves
As an amalgamation of these seasons

--shubha

Groping fingers

Groping fingers

Groping fingers reach
To pinch her bottom in a bus
Surreptitiously,
A chance brush
Against her breasts
In a crowded street
A whistle, a catcall
In a college campus
Laughter at her harried shame
Molest her privacy in lonely stairwells
And now on desterd sidestreets
On public roads
Restrict her sense of independence
While the onlookers look the other way,
This is not their fight
It is not their mothers, sisters, friends or wives
While the perpetuators expand their territory
Of where women may not walk freely.

--shubha

P.S. A few lines written before but ones that I felt a need to share after the shameful incident of mass molestation of women in Bangalore on New Year's Eve.