Ocean – A Haiku


Ocean – A Haiku

She drags herself to the ocean shore.
Pigeons in the sky lurking,
As the ocean listens to her whisper!

***

A Haiku after a long time. Do give your interpretation.

This is the 81st poem under the poetry journal “Isn’t She A Cape Crusader!” which aims to add 100 poems under 100 days. I missed fifteen days.

Read it and let me know in the comment how it was. You can read another seven (recent) poems on this blog page.

Do follow this blog for the daily update and share it with everyone who cares for poetry.

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Freaking Out!


Freaking Out!

She gulps the word

As she fists her way in

To the gate of merry times,

Laughing but no sound of chimes,

The past seems to have

Left her alone

Dangling in the crowd of future

For the emergence of an abrasive character

The man touches her for the closeness

She refuses to be aroused

No one understood the reason behind her absurdness

She needs is a watchful friend in silence!

***

Back after 2 days of break (was busy in two theatre performances)

This is the 80th poem under the poetry journal “Isn’t She A Cape Crusader!” which aims to add 100 poems under 100 days. I missed fifteen days.

Read it and let me know in the comment how it was. You can read another seven (recent) poems on this blog page.

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The Bees She Eats


The Bees She Eats

She almost lip syncs
The hymn of a cry
From the Yellowhammer bird
But never dares to pry
It’s like a sadistic cupid
Making a loveliest honeybees fry
Tasting it by inhaling the aroma
And when asked about the ogre smell
She probably wouldn’t lie

*
After the song is over
She rubs her anecdotal personality
To bring the magic of senile
It’s affectionate but dissociative
And grumpy from inside
When she realizes how exasperating it is
She plays the spastic move to cool off her mind.
It’s like she dumps the cupid
Gluttons the honeybees dish fried.

***

This is the 79th poem under the poetry journal “Isn’t She A Cape Crusader!” which aims to add 100 poems under 100 days. I missed thirteen days.

Read it and let me know in the comment how it was. You can read another seven (recent) poems on this blog page.

Do follow this blog for the daily update and share it with everyone who cares for poetry.

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When Nature Talks to Her


When Nature Talks to Her

In here,
The sky is high and shy,
Never seems to be covered
By ridiculous skylines;
There are farms spread everywhere,
Teasing the empty barrack,
Surrounded by wires;
She could see all species of birds.
*
In here,
A bee passes through the petals,
Accidentally plunges the anther into the ovary,
“What a beautiful birth story of a flower!”
She murmurs
Then turns her camera
To capture other part of nature!

***

This is the 78th poem under the poetry journal “Isn’t She A Cape Crusader!” which aims to add 100 poems under 100 days. I missed thirteen days.

Read it and let me know in the comment how it was. You can read another seven (recent) poems on this blog page.

Do follow this blog for the daily update and share it with everyone who cares for poetry.

Thanks!

A Mother Nature


A Mother Nature

At the centre
Of the gluttonous plate,
One keeps the ideas to peel;
She comes and crushes
Only to see an unidentifiable fruit,
A few pieces of brisket and a small seed;
She takes the berry,
Plough in the farm
And waits there until it becomes a full-grown tree.

***

This is the 77th poem under the poetry journal “Isn’t She A Cape Crusader!” which aims to add 100 poems under 100 days. I missed thirteen days.

Read it and let me know in the comment how it was. You can read another seven (recent) poems on this blog page.

Do follow this blog for the daily update and share it with everyone who cares for poetry.

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Whistle-Blower’s Travel Diary


Whistle-Blower’s Travel Diary

When she bares herself
In the middle of the big town,
She scarily sees,
Rushing roads,
The short sentence winner,
The figurative cannibalism march,
And the murder of innocent gawker;
*
When she frees herself
In the middle of this small village,
She eternally observes,
The rustling sound of wind,
A long conversation seeker,
The translative emotional journey,
And the life within the all-time grinner.
***

This is the 76th poem under the poetry journal “Isn’t She A Cape Crusader!” which aims to add 100 poems under 100 days. I missed thirteen days.

Read it and let me know in the comment how it was. You can read another seven (recent) poems on this blog page.

Do follow this blog for the daily update and share it with everyone who cares for poetry.

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She’s A Golden Child


She’s A Golden Child

She comes in white,

Wearing red clothed shoes of her size,

Her office is nearby,

She goes by walking,

Sometimes she is singing,

Sometimes she is watching,

A paint shop and some trees,

She probably wants to think more than that,

But she is stuck in the moment rush,

She feels eccentric,

Coz, being alone is nice and comfy,

She looks for truth in the mirror,

Gives company whoever is nearer,

Lights up for the occasional photographer in her,

Laughs like a clownish girl,

Talks as a foolish dreamer,

Although, having a dream is a puzzling tug,

She keeps mimicking a parrot for a change,

Heaps her quirks for an eye-sight range,

She’s missed herself as a golden child,

Wrapped in the jungle book,

Never be the queen someone else’s mind.

She’s like a funny golden child.

She’s like an endearing golden child.

She’s a golden child!

***

This is the 75th poem under the poetry journal “Isn’t She A Cape Crusader!” which aims to add 100 poems under 100 days. I missed thirteen days.

Read it and let me know in the comment how it was. You can read another seven (recent) poems on this blog page.

Do follow this blog for the daily update and share it with everyone who cares for poetry.

Thanks!