Monday

It rules
the head
if not heart;
providing
for the
notorious
playmates
that keep
humans
slogging
through the
weekdays;
This monarch
turning away
from recent fun,
yet making plans
for the next.

Her freedom

It was her ticket to freedom
or so she thought..

lying naked on the floor,
that rapidly changed color
from her innocent blood,

facing the half open door,
that once held secure
her imaginary family roots.

the rapidly changing floor
drew monsters around her
like zombie carnival.

Nearly dead she lay there
lacking all color and beauty,
that once helped her in hiding.

Like flickering candlelight,
life played games in her body
deciding the last threads.

The feelings were in place
and the reasons too for once,
death embroidered the scene.

a scene of theft and murder,
of wishful hatred and plunder,
of price one pays for others.

It was her ticket to freedom
or so she thought ..

==

I swear I do not know the complete story. I need to re write this with full background and filling in the picture a bit more. but I do hope you try to make a story here till then ..

Written for OSI . Sunday Scribblings , Sunday Whirl

He

a love like birdsong,
found reason to be subscribed,
he rescues my pain


==

This is dedicated to the love of my life ( though I doubt he will read this unless asked. and might not understand unless explained :P )

Written for Haiku Heights , Carpe diem , sunday scribblings

Death

around his death bed

the winds howl her blue feelings

paradise looks dull

--

Written for Sunday Scribbling , Haiku Height , Carpe diem

Black Coffee

It was the same cafe,

or so she thought;

the smiling face at the counter,

guiding everyone about

every cup billed for,

recommending just the right one,

scoring more smiles

from the kind old coffee lovers,

a nod from the new ones,

and an occasional "thank you".

It was all the same

or so she thought

till he read her thoughts,

knew how she sheltered

her pain within the coffee

and sipped on,

ignoring the black coffee

she so hated,

but upgraded her taste still.

Written for The Sunday Whirl , OSI , Sunday Scribblings
Linked to Open Link night - the one place that never ceases to inspire me :D

Dear Sister

Long time ago,
I sang few lines,
praises of you
and your love
that fills my time;
I wonder if you
remember this
or let those thoughts
behind some where
as you moved on;
so today I thoguht
to try once more,
to appeal to you
with my ways
of dealing words.
will you like
to hear of clothes
the fabrics and colors,
the random mix and match
some lovely, some odd?
Or would you prefer
to hear of the stuff
full of glitter and gloss,
part real,part not
some precious,some lost.
Or maybe you can
finally cherish
the spaces this poem charts,
the smiles that shine free
even as we stand world apart.

--
Prompted @ OSI , sunday Scribblings , OctPoWriMo

What beauty does

may soothe or violate
the silver orb that will hypnotise
beauty with a price ?

Prompted @ September Height - Day 4 , OSI , Sunday Scribblings

Image source