Mad/Nonsense: A haiku, a small tale and a limerick

laughing just like that

sitting alone in the room

the screws of mind lost

Okay, I am going to share the tale of a mad woman with all of you today. Well, she isn’t mad by psychological sense, but she actually acts mad at certain stances, like when she laughs so hard that she can’t even speak. And even more so, she would fall down chortling; sometimes swinging back and forth; at other times, completely at hysterics with laughter.

Or take another instance, she went to take a shower during the winters but the water wasn’t warm;  so she decided to make use of the cold water instead after all. I was sitting in the room, when I heard a long-pitched wail from the bathroom and I jumped up, fervently asking what happened. And you know what, it was just her expression of feeling cold. Yes, that moaning animal cry was just an expression.

There was once a queen named Rose

always wearing a red dress, gross!

out her judgement she had read

blurted out, “Off with your head”

through her mucous flowing nose.

* I am not good at writing humorous/nonsensical stuff but I tried my best. This is in response to the Nonsense/Madness Prompt. Among shared are a haiku, a limerick and a little tale of my experiences with a slightly mad woman.

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Sylvia Plath- her voice still echoes around…

Here is my tribute to Sylvia Plath; a villanelle-

her voice still echoes around

the lone bird, lost in the mirrors of time

faded, yet there with a fluttering sound

 

hear, take it in, let it be found

moaning in pain, narrating the crime

her voice still echoes around

 

her body decaying in the burial ground

she is gone, leaving behind her life’s dime

faded, yet there with a fluttering sound

 

the years she spent but being bound

a prisoner to her own mind’s rime

her voice still echoes around

 

leaving nothing behind her, no expound

just her work, her prayers, so sublime

faded, yet there with a fluttering sound

 

oh Sylvia Plath, you are indeed crowned

the queen, amid the humanity’s grime 

your voice still echoes around

faded, yet there with a fluttering sound