Random

A sense of end

And almost-closed chapters

Yet new is on hold

Old and stale

Tired in body and soul

Is spring ready?

Hope and fear

In equal measure wait

Bold goes missing

Gift

It’s big and shiny and purple

Too much bling, she said

Like those ones in Vogue

I am not Vogue

A long while

It's been a while.

Putting pen to paper, laboured torture

giving way to that quiet satisaction

Feeding an inexhaustible cyberspace with

tidbits that receive little response.

Feeling pretty, dressing to impress

one who is rarely impressed

Caring enough to summon up that power

peculiar to a female nation.

Dreaming a dream you know exists

in the future, an as yet unseen future

Yet knowing without doubt that

it will be lived even without knowing how.

Oh it's been a really long while.

Watermark and her prompts

Prompt 8

The hand on the iron bar
Comes off smelling of rust
It’s somehow harshly male
And uncomfortably familiar.

The smell holds memories
Of train compartments
Summer heat and anxiety
Of a love being left behind.

It’s going to need soap
And happy thoughts
And pretty fluffy things
To make it go away.

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Prompt 16

Dark is a difficult skin tone
It needs a Halle Berry or
A Sheetal Malhar or
A distant cousin

To make it glow and resound
And fill a room with light
To stop you mid word
And leave you spell bound

Mesmerizing dark is
Impossibly distant
To attain it, it needs help
It needs red.

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Prompt 2

She sits sipping her tea
Her special Chrysanthemum tea
In the corner that she knows
Makes her feel picture perfect.

The pineapple-shaped timer rings
She can feel the grumble rise in her
As the inevitable task approaches
And the dread of an oven to be opened.

Her eyes close for a moment
And then come open guiltily
The salt shaker awaits
And so does the evening ahead.

A kind of pretty

Skin so luminous, it could light up the dark
Eyes so large, so limpid, they look a bit whipped;
Long-limbed as if made for a walk in the park
Slim of waist, generous of bosom, large-hipped.

Thighs made for pleasure and not a magazine cover
All curves, no sharp lines, except for a nose -
Now that could do with a make-over,
With more ease, less force.

Clothed in unstitched drape, fluid, unformed,
Easy to disrobe, to just shed;
Ornamented, baubled, adorned,
With precious jewels or even flowers red.

She's a painting, gilding for a wall,
A tea-stall fantasy, a million calendar themes;
The goddess in the pandal, even an MTV filler doll,
Yet she's just kitsch, inspite of a collective billion dreams.