Poem: Mockery

He helped her to her home

                homed she felt in his company

Accompanied his pocket, a rose, a dream and a little comb

                combed, groomed, he was all set for flattery

Flattered was she by his boyish affection

                Affected was he by her imperfect spirit 

Spirited they were together, it was perfection

                Perfected to be each other’s true grit

But that evening was as blue as blue ink

                Inked on a paper, his words took a stand

Stood on a knee, he proposed; her eyes didn’t blink

                  Blinked to see a Red rose in his Right hand

Handed slyly, the epistle was crumpled in his pocket

                   Pocketed back was the truth, which tried to shock

Shocked but with no Ruth, yet she expressed fret

                   Fretted by her awe, he began his talk.

Talked like a jejune, he confessed his intent

                  Intended something else but he staged another act

                

                “That was just a gift,

                        which you always wish

                    To have an idyllic drift,  

                        like in poems so bookish

            That was all it was,

                        A moment from tomorrow

            Which you will pause,

                       With the one you’ll laugh and sorrow”  

                                

Acted like she believed his false sketch 

                She Sketched back a cordial lock intact.

-Ashish

Touch of Love

Malhar would never leave Alimah’s hand. This sounded too quixotic to their friends once. And they always proved their friends wrong.

Although they had been acquainted for three long years, they had never felt any trace of affection for each other before that night of their college trip. They sat opposite to each other, around the bonfire with the rest of their friends; their eyes articulating.  And the fire, on that dark, starry, chilling night, kindled the love in them.

Alimah could not get over the thought of Malhar’s strong hands holding hers, earlier that day, to help her walk over the wooden log bridge to cross the recklessly flowing river. And he could not forget the softness of her shivering hands in his. They looked at each other and they both knew they were meant to be together, always.

She woke up on the second year of their togetherness to find a void space on her bedside. He had already left for work early, without uttering a word. She wished she had not expected any surprises on their anniversary because she had got none. And this feeling shattered her even more. She remembered the last year when he had taken her on a long drive to the Western Ghats and they halted on a small tea shop while it drizzled and they walked hand in hand along the green valleys. This year, there was no rain. Everything seemed dried up, even her tears. She had cried enough for past few months. She had tried enough to bring back the fallen pieces together but failed. 

She decided that she would expect the worst now. She made up her mind to face a divorce, she was ready for it. Maybe, he would return with the legal documents in the evening, she thought. She got up and like all other days, started with her daily chores. 

While dusting their bedroom, she found his diary with a bookmark stuck between it, in a drawer next to their bed. She couldn’t resist to not read and turned to the page where Malhar had written the latest entry. She read it. And by the end of it, she was already up on her feet, about to runaway to him. And while on her way, his words reappeared in her mind. He had written everything that was needed to be said. He had written everything that was needed to rekindle their relationship. 

Alimah stood in his office's reception and a thought struck her that how would she defend herself for reading his diary. But she had no need to solve that query. 

Malhar's voice sent chills down her spine. "I knew you'd come", he said. Alimah turned back to find him standing there, smiling. Alimah couldn't respond. But, a tear rolled down her eye. And that was enough said.

He held her hand. He felt the same softness in her shivering hands. And she felt his strong hands. He looked into her eyes, confidently.

He knew she would definitely read his diary if he kept it in the right place. He knew what to write. He knew he chose the right words. 

Malhar leaned forward to embrace her. And outside, it rained again.

#BringBackTheTouch

-Ashish

Thankyou Indiblogger
and Parachute Advanced Body Lotion

Poem: Memories Will Dwell

Today, my boat has reached its shore; 

but now I miss the sailing even more.
While this odyssey reaches its epilogue
,the next boat awaits at its prologue.
 Another voyage is about to test my valor
but sadly, now I’ll be a lonely sailor.

The time has come to bid a painful farewell, 

and to take away the pearly memories, 

captured in a delicate sea shell. 

***

That was a carefree era, 

when we expected nothing grand, 

small things made us happy, 

dancing in the rain and aroma of the wet sand.

To be perfect, we were never bound

and life was a whimsical playground.

Meeting those people so down-to-earth, 

gave a whole new reason to my birth. 

Varied emotions, soft like soil,

and hard like rock,

only to live them again,

I Wish I could reverse the clock.

***

A few days from now,

I might be on cloud number nine,

like a bird, touching the sky,

but will the freedom be mine?

The air will be full of music

but the sounds will be melancholic.

To color the black and white aura, 

memories will help to garnish.

And like flavored smoke,

of the shisha,

this time will vanish.

***

-Ashish

Poem: Diary Blues

Dear Diary,

Today, I’ll share with you
a story of a boy
because you are my only ally.
So, lend me your ears
and a few moments from your years.
Here it goes…

“There lived a lonely guy

he had no friends, no brothers

or nobody who would die.

Nobody to serve cold dishes,

no malicious foes,

or to make any ill-wishes.

He desired no miracles,

neither prayed for no gifts,

nor was he lucky for free-falling apples.

He was his only priory,

an introvert for a speaker,

and his only  listener, a dear diary.

One fine day, God showered a surprise,

and his life turned into a nightmare,

gifted him friends for reprise.

They became his oxygen,

someone for whom he would sacrifice,

would walk into a lion’s den.

The foolish fish jumped off its bowl,

in expectation to find more water,

into a world that offered no soul.

Unaware was he of the fire,

following the paradise,

which would light up his pyre.

Absent from the real surroundings,

lost in the music so divine,

he trusted in the imaginary bindings.

The god-gifts took him so high,

up above the world,

and dropped him down, to die.

“Why did you stick to the ones who lied?”,

with a lump in its throat,

on his death, only his diary cried.

Do not expect no amends,

the boy lived and died alone,

and that is how the story ends.”

Ashish

You Might also like: Poem: Zero Mile | Back into Harmony | A Dream

Poem: For Kohl's Sake

For the painter,

who created this abstract so aesthetic;

For the musician,

who composed this song so sympathetic;

For the poet,

who penned down this poem so rhyming;

For the illusionist,

whose incantations made it so mesmerizing;

And for the kohl’s sake,

I’ll never let your tears congregate,

into a salty lake. 

For your Eyes,

so affable and yet so enigmatic;

For your Voice,

that I listen to everyday, so acoustic;

For your shoulders,

which divide my burden, so agile;

For your lips,

which smile to make me smile;

And for the Kohl’s sake,

I’ll not let that smile fade,

to silly reasons of heart-break.

For the blues,

that I played in your dearth;

For the disparagement,

which brought me down to earth; 

For the malefaction,

which pricked to make me anaesthetic;

For the lies,

to treasure our bond was so plastic;

And for the kohl’s sake,

I forgive you for being equivocal 

and pretending like a fake. 

For the fairy tales,

that we imagined, so melodramatic;

For the nocturnal talks,

when we shared our notions, so telepathic;

For the embracing hugs,

when you were overjoyed, so euphoric; 

For the hilarious gags,

when we laughed out loud, so sarcastic;

And for the kohl’s sake,

I’d never want to share you

even for the biggest piece of cake,

never for the kohl’s sake. 

Poem: Zero Mile

Hello Reader,

Valentines Day is near and to contribute to this season, here is a small poem. Hope you like.

"At every dawn,
she came, with anguish,
she couldn't hide
and sat on the riverside.
Opening her diary,
she penned down her blues,
to win versus her sorrows and woes.
Once done with her storytelling,
she would leave with a convincing Smile.

Me, from the other side of the stream,
would adore her innocence, her charm.
Every sunset, I would wait for her
and try to give a sign, an alarm.
The sun sat, and so did the hope,
everytime she got up to elope.
For once, I thought,
"Would she ever notice me?"
as the distance was that of a Mile.

Then the calender turned,
to the blessed day,
when we met, eye to eye.
Trust me, it was as whimsical as a lullaby.
I waved to her, she waved back,
a moment that nobody could hack.
From then on, every dusk was salvation,
WE would play, chat and translate in gesticulation.
The days were pacific for me, for her,
that she came, with a cheerful cast,
and return back with a Smile.

This splendid connection,
of shore to shore,
survived only for days of four.
She was standing on her bank,
showing off her engagement ring,
glittering, just like the teardrop in her eye,
narrating me the story of the mousetrap,
of ordeals, forced by her family and ally.
She gestured me to meet her in the deep.
She stepped in and so did I,
as we had no time to weep.
The earth didn't, but the water homed our love,
where the distance, between the banks,
was zero Mile."

Ashish :)

Poem: Words get Bitter

Hey Reader,
a small poem describing my anger towards everything that was happening against my wish. Now i don't want to keep it inside me.



Of the many avatars,
Here is one more of mine.
Talking to me and to all others around,
Loud, clear and fine.

The time is now past,
for you, to test me.
The time is now past,
For me, to tolerate you.

Smile is what the world can see,
Not, what’s on the backstage.
The cover may be dancing free
But the pages are burning with rage.

Give me a will against my heart
And watch it pump the venomous blood.
Boiling inside for too long, is desperate,
to flow out like a flood.

The time is now,
For you, to listen
The time is now,
For me, to spit it out


My world has made me think so dark
That even the brightest day has lost its spark.
The poisonous words are waiting like a dart
To poke,
right in the middle of your heart.

Poem: A dream

Hello reader,

I saw a dream last night. It was very beautiful.
Expressing the same in this poem...

                                                        "Standing on the edge

of the roof,

that girl,

in white gown,

was holding a white flower.

She was plucking the petals

and the breeze carried them.

The petals flew down,

to the ground,

like droplets of shower.

There were no more left,

petals and hopes.

She decided to cross the threshold,

the voice inside her said.

The droplets falling down,

were now tears.

Then out of the dark,

like a dream, she saw a light,

a hand that wiped her tears,

pulled her to a safe place,

and assured,

no more fears."

That's all folks. :)

You Might Also Like: Zero Mile

-Ashish