Vacations are one’s own time
To break free from routine and rise
Over the blue sea on a cruise.
Just lie down and sip some sweet lime.

Learn to ski or how rocks to climb;
Surf the seas; paraglide the skies.
Vacations are one’s own time
To break free from routine and rise.

Works of art and music sublime
Are balm for worn out ears and eyes.
Reading a book can make you wise.
Doing nothing also no crime.
Vacations are one’s own time

Related Post: Museum of Memories

This is my second attempt at rondel, a French poetry form posted at One Stop Poetry

A fling with fate

I saw it in the mirror, I saw it in my face. That this was not going to be my day. The clocks had moved forward. I thought it was 8.45 but time had moved to 9.45. My cell phone was ringing. I sleepily picked up the call. An angry female voice greeted me at the other end. "The cab driver has been calling for the last 10 minutes. Are you coming or shall we move on?" It was that damn girl from the cab again. I had heartfelt empathy for her boy friend whoever he was . I said "You please proceed. I am working from home today"  and cut the phone. I was not keen on enriching my knowledge on what constituted responsible behavior. I hoped she would not call up again to educate me on the same.

 I congratulated myself on reading the signs well and staying out of harm's way by not going to office that day. After all fate had limited options to ruin your day at home. So thinking I went on to open the fridge to pick up my morning cereal and milk. The minute the fridge door opened, crimson fluid began to seep out and soon the whole kitchen floor was painted red. What kind of a nightmare was this! Then I realized.  It must be a nightmare only. Probably I had still not woken up. I had woken up from a dream which was still within another dream. If what I say sounds crazy, I suggest the reader to check out the movie 'Inception'. Now I had to find the 'kick' to get out of this dream.

But then when nothing like that happened for the next 5 minutes, I decided to investigate further. I soon located the source of this blood like liquid - a tetra pack of tomato juice. It had got soaked and had begun to leak. But where had the water come from? I noticed almost every item in the fridge was wet and soggy. Then I remembered my room mate mentioning something about defrosting. I had not paid much attention then. But I was paying dearly for that mistake now. Seemed like he had gone ahead and tried to defrost. I had heard of people becoming victims of frost bite. But I was probably the first victim of defrost bite. Hunger was biting into the inside of my guts and the only edible item that had survived the melt down  was the juicy Papaya I had picked up the previous day. I was thankful for the small mercies. I quickly retrieved the Papaya from the fridge and moved it to the hall table.

I decided to quickly freshen up and have a bath before cutting the Papaya. Nothing like a bath to clear the head. I definitely needed a clear head to handle a knife. I was sure water would have stopped in the bathroom or the drainage pipe would have got clogged.  I had faced both these situations before and walked in bravely into the bathroom ready for anything. But your opponent has no fun if you have begun to anticipate his every move.  So my foresight had probably stalemated fate and the bath turned out uneventful. Maybe my hard luck had ended. My lovely papaya was waiting to be cut. And then I should get on to my office work. Phew! What a day it had been.

With these pleasant thoughts I entered the hall after my bath. My mind was hardly prepared for the scene of terrible violence and mindless carnage that was awaiting me on the table. My dear papaya  had been the victim. Lying there on the table torn to shreds, it was hardly recognizable. I could not withhold my emotions seeing the fate of my Papaya. It was with a heavy heart that I went on to investigate the perpetrators of this dastardly crime. They had left in haste and had left behind their traces on the table and the floor - little footsteps. I followed the footsteps that lead towards the balcony - and there they were! The felons themselves - a pair of monkeys caught red handed. Orange handed in this case though for the papaya was nice and orange. But what is the use when there was no means to bring them to justice. I took the remains of the Papaya and flung it at them with full force giving vent to my emotions. They neatly dodged and scampered down the pipe. So there went my last scrap of food.

I decided probably fate was indicating a day of dieting for me. So thinking I at least decided to have some water. Nothing as refreshing as a glass of cold water when emotionally distraught. I was hoping the monkeys had done nothing to the water at least. Thankfully the water was still there. Pure and clear Kinley water, reflecting the color of the green vessel kept near the water dispenser. But then wait a minute! There was no green vessel near the dispenser. Then what was the green reflection I had been seeing for the past couple of days? A closer examination revealed that the source of greenery was not outside the dispenser but inside it. A thick layer of moss had got formed at the bottom of the dispenser. And we had been drinking water out of it all this while. From a practical stand point whatever would happen out of drinking such water should have already happened. So one glass more or less shouldn't make any difference. But then mind does not always work by logic. After seeing that moss, I could not have a drop more of that water!

In Hindi movies, they have a dialogue that the hands of law reach very far. I had now realized same can be said of fate. You can't escape fate even shut safe inside the 14th floor of an apartment. This fling with fate had made a stoic out of me. I had seen it in the mirror, I had see it in my face. But yet I had refused to accept and sought to escape. But now I had learnt my lesson. 

Related Post: The Cursed Credit Card


Priceless pearls of 

Ancient wisdom are

Preserved for

Eternity in these plain

Rolls of tree pulp

My first attempt at Acrostic poetry (First letters of the lines form a word) has been posted for Theme Thursday meme : Paper  .

Narnia Series

I had entered my third year of engineering. A tempest was raging in my head. I was trying trying to find the delicate balance between the demands of a mundane civil engineering curriculum that had failed to hold my attention, the spiritual aspirations to follow on the hallowed footsteps of the great saints and last but not least the mind's revolt against the austerities that following saints entailed. Usually the struggles tended to intensify during the exam times. The conclusion of the examinations brought a welcome release though clouds of anxiety over the exam results still loomed ominously over the skies. So the minute the exams got over, I was out of the college campus on my journey to paradise, the oasis in my dessert of conflicts, 'Moor Market'. Moor Market was where I found my magical wardrobe that helped me escape the real world and enter the magical world of books. Moor Market was a treasure trove of abandoned books. I could go on and on about Moor Market but then this article is not about Moor market. So it suffices to say it was a place close to the Central Station in Chennai where vendors used to sell second hand books on the streets. And in one of the stalls, I came across an old little book titled 'The chronicles of Narnia - The Last Battle' by CS Lewis

Read the rest of this post here on my fantasy blog.

Sword of Truth

The Sword of truth its way through hacks

Not time nor tide can block its rise

Pretense that builds castles of wax

The Sword of truth its way through hacks

Sugar that coats and hides the facts

Cloaks that deceive and shields of lies

The Sword of truth its way through hacks

Not time nor tide can block its rise

Related Post: Legacy of Bharatavarsha

This post is my first attempt at an ancient French poetry form called triolet (ABaAabAB). You can learn more about triolets here. This post has been posted for the picture prompt at Magpie Tales Edition 58

Master of the skies

Picture by James Rainsford

I am a master of the skies

No earthly chains me ever binds

A place to rest my heart that finds

I lay my feet and close my eyes

A flying bird of paradise

Has no care if anyone minds

For he's the master of the skies

No earthly chains him ever binds

A statue honors he who dies

But honors not the fly bird blinds

Too high his skies for the mankinds'

Lowly ways he deaf to their cries

For he's the master of the skies

Same Poetry Form: Vacations

This is published as an attempt at a French poetry form called Rondel. To know more about Rondels, check out here. The poem is also posted for the picture prompt challenge at the same site

cat and dog rain - Limerick

A cat and a dog it rained.

The dog, too well trained

stood upright; on his nose

and tried to touch his toes.

The cat his calm just maintained
 Related Post: Goose under Fire

Our Primeminister - Clerihew

Our prime minister, Mr. Singh,

Really hard to his chair does cling.

He really doth deserve a large medallion

For his loyalty staunch,to the Italian.

Related Post: A Ray of Hope at Last

Written for Lots of Laughter for the prompt -clerihew. To know more about clerihews, check out this site.

Violet Blooms and Clover Leaves

Early violet blooms
New beginning to herald
Springs new greenery
Clover, four leaved or three bring
Some lucky tidings; some not

Similar Post: Beauty of a Rose

 this time an attempt at Tanka.(5-7-5-7-7 with 2 different ideas linked by third line) I came to know about Tankas on this site. Found it very interesting and was excited to try out immedeatelt. Image taken from Magpie Tales - 57 Image prompt

Of Love Lost

A helpless babe in the cradle, wailing,

Me you nurtured with love and showed I can

On my own feet stand the, whole world hailing.

Spurned I your love and outside to, play ran.

An ignorant child no right nor wrong knew,

Me you loved and, taught me wisdom of lore

of earth, of ether both age old and new.

Spurned I your love, seeking gaiety more.

A broken man wounded, fresh from defeat,

Me your love healed and ushered a new zest

To stand, to fight, to face the battle heat.

Spurned I your love in my, for success quest.

To love and to, lose was, always your fate;

Mine is; to lose, and to, love wee too late.

Writer's Note: My first attempt at Sonnet dedicated to my mother. I have tried to follow the rules of the regular Shakespearean sonnet. (Rhyme scheme abab cdcd efef gg with 10 syllables every line and alternating short and long stresses). Though I have managed to maintain the rhyme scheme and 10 syllables in every line, could not bring the alternating short and long stresses. Guess that is too much for someone writing the third third poem of his life. Hopefully one day I can.

Usually it is good to leave the reader to intrepret the poem her own way. But Then as a new writer on the block who understands the low attention span of his audience I feel it necessary to add a note. One generally tends to take mother for granted. The first quatrain tells how mother dotes over her baby, but as a baby, one is more interested to run out and play the moment one can walk leaving a disappointed mother. The second quatrain shows how as a teenager, the mother teaches you a lot of things and gives you the value system and educates you about the ways of the world. But you are more interested in movies, malls, video games, friends , girl firends, parties and all kinds of entertainment. Again you leave behind a disappointed mother. The third quatrain shows as a grown professional, every time you face a disappointment, mother is one who is there to give you solace and encouragement. But you are more bothered about career and work and have no time for old mother. Finally the concluding couplet brings out how only when she leaves you, you realize her true value and repent for all the love you did not give her over the years.  

Related Post: Rupture of the Umbilical Cord of the Heart 

For whom the bell tolls

A book of faces