Spring garden

blooming spring  flowers

bees humming on the green fields

warmth of air seeping within

 ~

brightness pierces sight

noisy buzzing of the bees

warm air intruding within

Poetic form:- Sedonka

Taue (Rice Planting) Haiku

reflecting shadows

puddles of water on fields

workers in sedge hats

~

fields filled with water

men descends to place seedlings

gilded performers

~

women in kasa

traditional performance

the paddies planted

~

bow down in prayer

planting the mother earth’s womb

promising fine crops

~

young girls singing songs

hoping for a good harvest

time for festival

~

aura of dances

enhanced crop’s vitality

melodies in air

* Written in response of Carpe Diem # 220

Eagle’s Flight Haiku

The weather has taken a different turn. It is amazing today. Cool blissful wind is flowing, the leaves rustling and the sky, a big expanse of white.

I saw an eagle taking flight, so hence the haiku;

gliding in the air

an angular, yet straight flight

the king of the sky

leaving for her journey

Hello bloggers,

I got a wonderful opportunity to work with the lovely Merbear and you know what, we ended up creating this poem together. Please read and share your views.

leaving for her journey

She was binding her hair in a bun

Readying herself for the journey ahead

Which may take her to distances unknown

Bring in her the sense of being alive

She had never felt ever before

She was leaving behind all her fears

For the adventure that awaited her

 .

Her stomach coiled like a snake

Past torments licking at her heels

Dare she run so fast and proud?

Her life not worthy of a fairy tale

She sighs so loudly she startles herself

Trapped emotions needing to meet air

Praying to breathe air

 .

The stream of tears fell down her cheeks

Which she didn’t even care to wipe away

She was looking for a happy ending

Which she had to find herself in her own way

She picked up her hand bag of happy memories

And moved ahead towards her cage door

And pushed it open, it wasn’t locked

 .

Desperate echoes of her soul

Beckoning to her aching heart

Calling her to where she needs to be

She trembles with trepidation

Limbs weakened by the struggle

Her life never drawn before

By her own personal design

 .

She was never meant to be free

Doubts crossing her mind

When she had just seen the sunshine

But she would never return back

And thence, she flies away

Its true leaving is difficult but

Once you have left, it is easy not to turn back

 .

Then the breeze whispered her name

A lullaby warm and soothing

Like balm for her battered soul

Bringing her back to herself

Oh, she thought she had been lost!

Smiling inside herself with pure joy

For her true path was known all along

 

Frock: A 100 Word Story

Copyright – Janet Webb

The not-so-red, slightly pink frock was hovering in the air and it appeared as if  an invisible girl was clad in it, hung there by the side-railing.

Momma, see that pretty frock,” the girl walking along her mother by the street, pointed towards this piece of cloth.

“It is pretty.”

“I want it,” her eyes glinted with hope.

“I’ll ask dada to get one for you.”

“But I want this one,” she tugged at her mother’s arm, restraining to move any further.

“Don’t whine.”

“But…”

She was pulled up in the arms and taken away, her eyes adorned with tears.

Note:-

This is written in consideration of the Friday Fictioneers writing prompt.

Homemaker

He was about to go out when she interrupted, “Best of Luck for the meeting. Come, I will get for you a bowl of curd and sugar for good luck.”

“Don’t you know I don’t like to be called while going out,” he sneered.

“I am just asking you to do so for your own success,” she reasoned.

“Please don’t think about me and do your own work,” he angrily replied, “I haven’t married you so that you could become a hassle for me.”

“I am just trying to keep you happy,” she said in a teary voice.

“If you want to keep me happy, just do what you are asked to do.”
“And don’t cry in front of me.”

“A burden… yes, that is what she is,” he mumbled to himself, leaving for the office, without giving a single glance to his weeping wife.

“Why?”
“Why can’t he love me?”
“Why can’t he just accept me?”
“I was not married off to live a life like this.”

She cried and asked the open air, these questions and then cried even more.

Wiping away her tears after a few minutes, “I must not let these thoughts come to my mind,” she told herself.

“These are demonic thoughts.”
“I must respect my husband. He is everything I have got.”
“I should try harder to please him and continue to do so even if he doesn’t pay any attention towards me.”
“I am a wife and I must fulfill my duty as the homemaker.”

She had all but forgotten the ill-treatment she was subjected to by her own husband and went off to the kitchen to prepare the meal for the day.