Stranded No More…

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Stranded No More…

When seclusion callously corrodes
Every inch of your fine being
When it’s all dark and dreary
And your heart is tired and weary
Your eyes too solemn and teary.

Then lose no heart, O comrade!
The gloom will soon evaporate
The beaming rays will finally break
Through the engulfing black clouds
Compelling them to dissipate

Hang in there some more time!
For soon time will turn around
Get ready to smile and welcome
The crystal clear blue skies and
Golden happiness all around

© 2016 Alka Girdhar

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In response to #writephoto Photo Prompt ‘Isolation’ by Sue Vincent..

A Writer’s Heart…

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A Writer’s Heart

Choked with endless jumbled thoughts
This heart, ancient and weary
Like some stored chest of treasures
Somewhat worn, beyond its prime
Yet not worn out and passe.

Carries a lot of weight, of 
Experiences and wisdom galore
Hidden in its pit, secret stories
Of precious moments gone by
Either well-lived or idly whiled
Joys achieved, some denied

Overloaded and bursting now
The crammed chest of heart
Must now be unlocked, with
Magical keys of words, words 
And yet more words

A writer’s heart is indeed
A valuable treasure box
Unlatch its rusty door
Let the lock stifle it no more 
Let the inner voice flow out, to
Set free the riotous thoughts

© 2016 Alka Girdhar

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That was my response to this week’s photo prompt for Sue Vincent’s writephoto:

“A battered, iron-bound chest…Where did it come from? What does it hold…why does it need three keys to unlock its secrets…and where are they now?”

Agoraphobia #writephoto

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Agoraphobia

he thought

he should go out

he told himself
he must go out

the thought came
the thought went out

he stayed inside
he did not go out

©2016 Alka

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agoraphobia

I wrote this poem in 2016, now posting it for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt for #writephoto Inside-out

Being One With Him

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Being One With Him

Ask her. How does it feel to be one with him?
She will have no clue. For she is now a part of him. She is him.

It’s as if they aren’t two souls, but one.
They even look like one, well if you see from the distance
Their cells have long lost their own growth
Blended into each other
They’ve found a newer meaning in this union

But it wasn’t always so…
She started out differently
So dissimilar, so distant they were
But it happened
This unison – where the lost soul merged into The One.

When a small soul meets that bigger soul, then that is what happens
Losing itself – a creeper becomes a tree; a river becomes a sea
That higher soul so pure and benign; habitually embraces tainted souls
Unenlightened souls of mere mortals
Souls that have lost all hope

Many such souls have sought and got
And many more, seeking more and more
One day
They all will find Him
And merge into Him

© 2016 Alka Girdhar

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

My above prosaic poem was inspired by the tree Thursday photo prompt hosted by Sue Vincent of The Daily Echo.

‘She’ is our human soul…losing herself in her beloved or in God.

If you liked this tree inspired poem, then here’s another similar poem You Lose and then You Win. I’m sure you will like it.

Colouring-Decolouring

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ColouringDecolouring

 

You are dark, she is fair
She is black, he is white
We are brown, they are yellow
Are you brunette or blonde?

We coloured people

With discoloured hearts
And uncoloured ways
Turn more coloured on Holi
And yet less coloured

Because the Festival of Colours
is a great equalizer.
Its c
olourful masks uncolour
our fake crude colours,
and we are no more
rich or poor, big or small
literate-illiterate, light or dark.

Merely simple human beings

living life, enjoying moments.
Just as we are meant to do

© 2016 Alka

~~~ ~~~

May your life be full of right colors that are devoid of any bias.!

Victimized

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A Victim

On blood and debris
Her suitcase lies scattered
Stunned by smoke and screams
She sees helpless lives blown to tatters
From her heart she curses the heartless haters
She knows for sure her life is changed forever
Blessing other scapegoats who are like her
She sadly mourns the death of humankind
Whose fault it is, who pays the price
Wonders why she was victimized ever


© 2016 Alka Girdhar

Prayers for all those who were victimized at Brussels! Some flowers too…

Price

In Transit…

yllo

 

Early Ephemeral Signs

The weather man declares
Here’s your last day of summer
Be prepared, relish the change

I wonder at their confident claims
And look for subtle signs of change
Nature’s fleeting moods and frames

Yes! Yellowing greens, falling leaves
True! Shorter days, stillness in the air
Not too hot, and not yet cold here

Summer’s silently slipping away
Auburn autumn’s not too far away
Winter will soon be on its way

~~~

Transitory Thoughts

Toddling childhood
Romps away
Youth a guest
Never overstays
Fleeting desires
Melting moments
Nothing remains but
Cobweb of memories of
Tangled mesh of wishes
That refuse to untangle
One day, the last breath
Resolves everything
Good or bad, all
Comes to naught, like
Dispersing dewdrops

© 2016 Alka Girdhar

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These are my two poems written in response to The Daily Post’s today’s writing prompt: Fleeting

 

Birthing Pangs & Pleasures – 2016

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Bearing calmly the soft suffering
The pain of letting go; eyeing its unborn
With keen anticipation and hope

2016 stands pregnant; pot-bellied
And fertile, ready to give birth
To months, days, hours, moments

Let it relax and breathe deep!
Let it be an easy birth!
Let all babies glide forth!

Would they be stillborn, or bubbling
With life; hungry and crying
For more joy, feats new evermore?

Merry months, delightful days
Happy hours, beautiful moments
The essence of our very being

Once cuddled and well-fed
They will lie peacefully, to grow
Gently cradled within our lives

© 2015 Alka Girdhar

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Wish you all a very Happy New Year 2016!

This time last year it was my simple poem for  2015  when I was new to blogging

Errors That Are Meant To Be

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Errors that are meant to be

Don’t cry over burnt toast!
Stop wondering at its blurred pic
Oops! For this weird lapse
In cooking and clicking.
Perfection gone missing
Dimmed before brightening
Life finished before living

Missed opportunities
All these could-have-beens
Simple phantasmagorias
Mere shadows of their real being
Imperfect clumsy wholes
Unimaginable new shapes
So enigmatic and puzzling!

Cheers to the unplanned blunders
That were meant to be!
Good or bad, let them be…

 

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The above picture is that of a framed hologram that hangs on a wall, and when seen though my dresser’s mirror, this wall-hanging seems to throw all its glowing ingredients outwards as if it is a three-dimensional picture. I tried to capture it via my camera but see the result…

The one below somewhat shows the 3D effect but blurred still, though quaint and unique as it is.

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~~~ ~~~
Now, this post about imperfections was my response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge prompt for this week:  “Oops! ‘Tis the season to revel in photographic (and/or photogenic) disasters.”

This morning…a burnt toast triggered this writing…

Getting Candified

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Pour some sugar on me

Let it sink deep
into raw and open pores
to seep into my inner cores

Let it gently melt
down my sinews and bones
to trickle into cellular holes

Let some sweet balm calm
the treacheries that pulsate
the heart, memories that ache

Let it gulp all the bitterness
that’s gnawing my goodness
now soften the stiffened starch

Come! Caramalize my soul
make a pudding of me
Let me consume the sweeter me.

Pour some sugar on me

 

© 2015 Alka Girdhar, All Rights Reserved

~~~

In response to the Daily Prompt: Pour Some Sugar on Me
What is your favorite sweet thing to eat?

Too many sweet recipes in my mind. That later. For now, this poem seemed to be an easy response.
‘Me’ in any of my works is not necessarily me. It’s anyone of us.