Micro tale challenge conducted by On Fire Cultural Movement
That noise irritates my stolen peace
Tide retreating revealing the thirst of rocks
Epics remain silent but not unaware
Devouring the sounds of aching hearts
Soft voice surrounds me as I pull me back
Vision now meets the plain blue horizon.
Courage it cannot be called; valour never
To access a sword to divide one’s heart
I will do it or perhaps hope I will not be called to do it
Decisions are hard, when lost remains your trust in you
compliments and nice words have no meanings for me
I turn away from wonderful descriptions about myself
But why many tasks for me? let me sleep and dream
Away sends me huddled in my arms, a shivering me
My scary thoughts, without a chance to turn back
Choice of each step worries me, nothing hides my despair
Bitter thoughts of failure, sinking down deep with no reclaim
Judge not by the shadows they turn long and short
Sometimes it zooms, but the sun alone can show it
Pure heart only trembles as it is light as a leaf.
The gates never opened for anyone, but the delivery boys
Groceries and fruits suddenly seemed to be not so available
The state fed the helpless and heard their pleading voice
In the “HEIGHTS RISING” all were striving to be humble.
Children bored with English, Yoga and other lessons online
Missed their cousins, the get togethers, busy malls and 7D movies
Snacks made at home, no dream of Pizza Hut visit to dine
What a loss! No picnics ! but a citizen cannot give up his duties.
While some women shared on Facebook; their school photos with new friends
Files and folders piled up for some; as their babies sat on potty, their phones rang.
A nurse’s mom called her on video, prayed for those in the isolation wards
Sharing news fake or not, hoping the markets to boom before the profits sank.
They only had a parrot for company, in a silver painted cage
Not possible to use the lift, no strength to spend on stairs, climbing.
Days remained the same; oats, fruits and medicines for their old age
The tall man brought in provisions, to help he was always willing.
Alone, tired of himself, closed in the room he was worried
Courage was elusive, especially when he needed it every minute
Was there a cough, that came with him along the borders he had crossed?
To keep everyone else safe he chose a long, lonely and scary wait.
The gym and the swimming pool lay idle, untouched, in wait
The beautiful and the strong seemed not to worry about their BMI
When the deadly virus might be hiding to get you by a bait
Then everyone has to stay indoors with a watchful eye.
Streets seemed unfamiliar, life uncertain as her purse grew thin
News not very reassuring, yet there showed some light in the darkness
Daily wages of a woman who ironed is not there now to feed her kin
Misfortune, a curse, travelled around he world, had not made a small mess.
Only a light up there in a corner, on the right side of the western block
Somewhere on the eleventh floor, where an artist might have been painting, is on
He kept looking at it, and kept guard all night, the land had put on itself a lock
It gave him strength for his duty, earn for his home, with the stars that shone.
What else can save the people, now in all nations of this ailing world
But personal hygiene and social distancing to be kept by all, strict
Human race now subdued by the deadly outbreak of disease covid
There is no room for arguments, only a short time for any rescuing act.
SCHOOL WAS LIKE….
By Sherin Mary Zacharia
A layered coat of dust and timeless
Serves to cover me with an ancient charm
My memorable remains lie withered in the
Those were the times when the fables were
Loved by the generations that once existed
Where are those tiny feet that moved
around the mango tree?
The ribbons fluttering in the day light bright
Rhymes no longer repeated, no babbling
Coloured paper not flying in pieces
No inky pinky ponkies, no mulberry bush
Who will chase the theif? Who is the police?
Never have they sat next to each other
Nor played basket, shared juice and lunch.
The bell was dark heavyvand loud then
A key press now boots well into the new
To take notes about a world that had once
With sports, dance, picnics and
More virtual friends zoomed in to video call
Links were plenty, but the souls longed for a
About the migrant labourer who paints the apartments
photograph by Shreya Susan Zacharia
The view, real from top did not scare him
The wind strong shook only his dry brown hair
When a vacant seat beckoned, he doubted his destiny
Everything was fine, hanging by the rope to paint.
A job, an income, which made beautiful all walls
A smile, a hope in a small house distant to reach
Doors assured to open, trains set to hoot, time runs.
A virus cannot turn upside his dreams, he is sure
He worked in the sun and in rain, set to serve his Co.
A decision to hang on to the thick rope from heaven
Kindness and care all around, he kept his word to be safe
When his brothers marched towards their ends tragic
He held on and painted his life’s colours, in increasing faith
Cyclone Amphen was spiralling homewards, killer winds rise
His folks may soon need money, trouble seems to double
He held tight to the long brush as he painted
poems written for the Napowrimo event held online by the group The significant league aka rejected stuff
A chocolate ball Ferrero Rocher But that’s because she tried to be smarter My grandma had given me a Five Star Now I know she has eaten that bar Somedays back my small white Bounty was lost I planned revenge and ate all Lindt to the last Sure I have stolen many a sweet chocolate Did so to stop my sister from getting very fat Guylian is always her favorite I know I was ready to trade it for a Toblerone or so But our love for each other is the sweetest Always we try to give each other our very best
Tears erupt from my eyes when not able to find myself as I search in the mirror hanging on the wall. This is not at all my image in front of me. Many hours i stare without a wink Mist covers my reflection with an umbrella No! It is not me, where is the real me? This is not the self that really I am. How do I dig deep into my mind and discover my true inner self? Wiping off the dust, dirt and grime Brushing away the cobwebs of sad thoughts, l lost confidence and crumbled self esteem Then my true self will be revealed my glowing visage and golden heart will be reflected.
Windows of my room let in the soft rays of the rising Sun Waking me up with the noise of the bicycle bells Busy men on scooters some speeding away on cars
My window reminds me of my worthless thoughts, wingless travelling into the sky. The cat sneaks out through the window Her tail up like a free digit one Hot air blows in, it has asked not my permission Clouds want to fight, shout and flash lights My window throws on me drops of joy Tree tops high, close to heaven swing my prayers up Winged friends flying south, my dreams I wish could fly with them The moon peeks in from behind the coconut trees The yellow light illuminates the street outside My windows shut goodnight.
By midnight the roads will be empty
All the people will be asleep, nearly
The dimly lit streets soon become lively
Comes out the cats rats and dogs that bark
I climbed atop the fence, in the moonlight
I wish no one finds me, an incomplete cat
When she saw some thing new, about me
the artist forgot
I was given no colours but left as an
Drawing by Shreya Susan Zacharia
Nobody sees me, nobody knows me
Who can hear me purr?
I will not be cuddled by anyone
No one will throw for me a ball, far.
What inside my heart will be known
Roads I cross will remember me their own
Meows me gently, heads turn to find me gone
There can be no incomplete cat ever born.
I am complete, my heart, my identity strong
I will write my life’s story, don’t get me wrong
I am a golden cat with boots white
I know it and the colours of my mind are bright
#WHAT I MISS MOST … a prompt given by the poets of #THE SIGNIFICANT LEAGUE AKA REJECTED STUFF
Lockdown has changed
the way we look
the way we live
the way we eat
and of course find a seat
Saturday evenings were fun
a drive with all from home
music in the car
night throwing colours on the streets
Lovely attires we would wear
Me and my sister.
The gourmet smells Chinese sometimes Arabic
Aroma of crispy dosa, North Indian rotis and kebabs
I miss the Falooda, Subway’s
salads and dips
The masks make us look strange but safe.
How long will it be before the waiter smiles polite
and places a menu on the table?
Can I sit on the chair facing the sea, soon?
Will I hear the sizzle of roasted chicken again?
How do I know the chef is ready with the barbeque?
I miss the good times of the week.
I wish all of you health and safety.
My world has slowed down
the globe rotates gently, to keep on
clouds float in the sky aimless
Sun never forgets to rise, sleepless
every news warns to stay inside and wash
each nation fights ,towns shrouded in anguish
people flee helpless to be in their own place
covid19 has left roads deserted with no trace
doctors and nurses work day and night
summaries flash as ministers take steps tight
police on the streets , march in long lines
for violators in town there are the fines
there was a man who sold hot peanuts
now not seen his cart in front of youth hangouts
I look out through my window
on the tree I see parrots and a sparrow
the birds are happy , the air is fresh
some people gone jobless , some no longer rush
these days no weekend wanderings
much joy with grandma’s online recipes simmering
when will the world free itself from the pandemic
may the day come soon with good work of many a medic.
Act sensibly with all the responsibility
our life is neither ours nor theirs.
we are forming the links in a chain
percentiles flicker graphs vary
the numbers change randomly
embraced tight pulled together
engaged in things good and bad
there remain some surprises some accidents
but the chain is never broken
for your right actions you found friends
who told right stories, fought evils together
found homes for the homeless
made followers to feed the hungry
giving only goodness to the next
but greed fixed another link
hatred made longer chains
carless are the covid chains
that shake hands and wash them not
with every link broken does life thrive?
chains are needed to support to care
stronger ones, to pull up our fallen fellow beings
the war is never fought alone
but with each warrior ready
How many hours more for the Sun to go down
under the expanse of the roaring sea
pulling over it the thickness of night?
How many hours left as the moonlight polishes
everything clear and bright
to tell the world it is perfect?
How many hours remain
before this day passes off into history?
It takes with it memories hard and
opens slowly the blossoms scented.
How much time will it take
by which the morning rays befall on earth
turning warm the moist blades of grass?
How long to wait
To hear the bell ring and
my name being called
for the act that is to begin on the wide stage
set under the white clouds.
The scene I do not know
estranged from the plot as the curtain rises
cannot morph myself into the role.
My red gown missing
gleaning my costumes from the wall
they cover not my inner self
dare not hide the real me
unable to slip into the character of another human
far away from my rituals.
How many more moments to spend
searching the strings that have tied me here
and cut them off.
Let the lights glow!
To my wish , set me free.