a rekindled fire

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a fire-play —

temptation, orange, blue,
many dawn colored hues,
rise with its remaining sighs
before my shuttered eyes,

gate-crashing the portal for
a bite-sized world,

lives enmeshed, unfolded
and tread upon, within
a singular blanket
of agony, of warmth.

days rising and setting
(the sea abounding
calmness) —

one page folded, two picked apart
to take control over the command

for a rekindled fire — scarlet,
sinful, still,

in tomorrow’s land –
singing my hair to a crisp,
narrow-tread – spiraling
higher and higher.

~

Some obtrusive rhyme there — I still feel awkward using them unless in a form. I have admired Ferlinghetti’s usage though; would try to be less out-there next time. For now, it works for me.
Linking it up with the Tuesday Platform at With Real Toads
Image source

***

I have been working on a new Insta handle for over a month now, for literary and creative posts: @anmol.ha.
For contact, you can reach out to me through my multiple profiles, enlisted here.

a moment of detachment

i stopped having tea last month but have had
a lapse only once, I am cutting down on caffeine,
on sugar, on white carbs, on the world I see,

a capricious mood is hanging on my window,
dry flowers stuck to the shade, coloring the sun
that makes its way in, I don’t feel but smell warmth
tingling my nostrils, I sneeze out despair and
set up a guest room for the spring to rest and stay.

flames flicker on my skin, I don’t mind being burnt
by the season that lasts but as long as I close my
dry, lifeless palms, a few rhetoric seconds of delay.

i stopped being stopped for a day, and it felt strange
and yet not in a positive way, the birds shall fly
to the lands new, talk to strangers familiar, I stay.

.

For dVerse Poetics, where we are writing to the art of Danny Gregory.

I am on Instagram. You can find me at mypeculiarself.

Wakefulness

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Clicked a few hours back when I was on the bus… did not sleep a minute. Blurry because of the bus tremors.

coursing through the cities,

glorified by the lights that gleam

through the lustrous layers of fog,

dense with the sleeping breaths,

and awake, feeling its presence

from within the windows shut,

counting the seconds till we can,

because that is all we got to do,

.

we are the comrades of the night,

warm to know the other one is there,

strung with the same wakefulness,

even if distant, even if it wouldn’t last,

while I pass through these cities, towns,

half sitting, lying, on the sleeper berth,

chewing a sapless gum, to count up

their comforting numbers in my head

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

Embers: Composing Tan Renga

scattered in sand

embers of a saltwood fire

face to face with stars

~

bright red still smoldering hot

touch not, but savor the warmth

* The challenge was to compose the Tan Renga: I have written the second stanza in order to do so. The first stanza is by the poet Jane Reichhold.

* Written in response of Carpe Diem’s Tan Renga Challenge