Failing projects

Like so many before
You have failed this one too
It wasn't as though,
It was too tough to do
At first you were riding the wave
And then trying to get thru'
But in the end, on the way
Life took over you

Recipe for hot drink

Crush a little ginger
(It is a spice, if you didn't know)
(It is also a root)
(Wikipedia says so)
And gently drop it in a cup
Boil water, make it piping hot
And dribble some honey
Right into the water pot
Drink it, take a big swig
Take deep breaths
Look out the window
Let your face portray depth

We meet

The thought forms in my head
Like a small white cloud
Puffing up in a dark sky
And it is magic
Because that idea reaches a form
In your mind, separate from mine
Far away , and maybe
I have never laid eyes on you
Nor you on me
And yet in this cloud
We meet

Picture from outer space

A view from up above
A darkness forms the base
And bright spots light up
Where marks have been made
By the human race
The man who takes the image
The image is entirely his
But he leaves no trace
of taking this click

Painful pasts

A day to forget for ever
Or one to remember
For the million lives
That were taken
For mere fanciful ghosts
In the minds of men dead inside

Little by little

My memory is fading away
Little by little a chunk breaks off
And falls into that hole
Where memories go to be lost
And never be recovered again

With you

I wish I was there with you
As you play your little games
As you climb higher and swoop down
As you playfully plunge a little
And then chase each other around
I wish I was there with you
My lack of wings holds me down

The bus and the flyover

A single push of my leg
And the bike cruised forward
As I sat one with my vehicle
The breeze lifted my mood
And I sang with the wind
As I climbed up the flyover
And at the same pace at which I moved
This giant bus moved under me
A little bit of poetry in motion
Is it weird that I want to blog about this?

It creeps closer

I know that it is coming
I can feel it in the air
It is barely moving
But I know it is there
Tomorrow it will be here
And I wish I knew what to do
But I have perfect vision when  I look back
And am blind as bat for what's ahead 

The side-effects of binge eating

I lay in bed
Filled with regret
Looking for a way to stop
the voice in my head
Tears have been shed
But the pain just wants to make me drop
That's it I said
Never again will I eat chocolate

Too little too much

A bit too self-assured in her actions
Too much self-doubt in her mind
A recipe for disasters

A little world

I look at the little world below
I see little ducks swimming around
A few tyres float in the water
And  shapes loom inside the pond
It is a little messed up...
 just like the wide world around it

For 10 minutes or less

This blog: 
An effort to be clever
For 10 minutes or less everyday

No joy

Gladness
envelops the heart that knows
There is no joy in numbers

Summer and childhood

The smell of mangoes
A starry night
A sister's hugs
Branches bending low with fiery red flowers

The river does not run dry

The river does not run dry
The fount that feeds it runs eternally
The mouth that drinks from it moves on,
to other streams and falling rain
When it moves on, it cares not
But the brook tumbles by itself
And by itself.

Lady outside my window

Like one of the clouds she floated in the sky right outside my window. She even looked like them. Among them she appeared to gently bob up and down. Soft white with light blue daubs and flecks on her. As clouds passed by she lingered on. A little while later I looked up to see her radiant, rising above as the sky darkened. The darker the night, the brighter she got. Now the world is dark and the light that she emits lights up my dark room. Good night sweet moon.

Blogger's subject

There is a moment in the day
When there is a pause
There is noise
But there is a thread of silence in it
A sudden awareness
The mist clears and the blog writer awakes
Her mind marks that moment in the day
That moment forms her subject that night

Dirt within

Scrub a little to reveal a lot underneath
But beware, it is not always gold under the dirt
Sometimes it is something you never thought was there
Sometimes it is that which you never wished there would be

Paper

Going through each paper,
one at a time
 memories come flooding back
 from some of them
while others take a while to recognize
Then like the hand of a massive hauling machine
Each paper goes into the dump