Eight symmetrical legs spin up a silken web,

With the dexterity of a pianist striking his keys,

back and forth and back and forth,

On the black and white keys

Weaving a breathless crescendo of perfect notes

While the audience watch in enthralled silence

until he stops.

And sits back as if to catch a breath,

And a thousand sighs escape their human chests.

Then the pianist leans back in and strikes his final note,

Just as the spider dances back and forth and back and forth,

on its Silver web lassoing its hapless prey with its sticky hooks.

A short struggle rises and then wanes as its hapless prey ceases to flutter

A thousand people rise in standing ovation.

Monday Challenge: Beguiling Poetry


On choosing a lover

photo-1447688812233-3dbfff862778If I could chose a lover it would be

Poetry; a lonely heart’s companion.

Words would descend upon me like

vultures on a juicy carcass.

Tearing my soul like an old King’s

ravenous concubine.


Who needs the rehearsed symphony of meter?

We would be giddy on music & rhythm,

playing on words.

Flirting, laughing, holding hands

we would share a cab ride back home.


There, one by one, we will play

all the tunes of life.

Glowing in the florescent light of a

cheap white wine, we will strip

down worldly frivolities.


Bare down to our bones, to our souls.

We would dance the night away

Naked, wordless, soulful.



Grandma’s face…

Faces are like complex metaphors

to life,

Happy like a child’s

first solo bicycle ride,

Or grim like Patty the parrot

buried in the backyard,

Treacherous like frozen ice

on your doorstep,

or innocent like a ticklish cackle.

Faces are like dreams

altering reality, and

reality altering dreams.

Playing my life in reverse

I see a fanfare of


Yours is a face I see over and over.

Your skin so light as if bleached by time

And your silver hair so thin

I can feel The ebb and flow of blood

in your scalp.

In my dream you are always wobbling

toward me unsteady like a ship

wavering side to side.

School’s just out and I am running to you

with outstretched arms eager to run into your

embrace like a hungry seagull.

But then like always

I wake up.

If faces are like metaphors, then

the memory of yours is like a quilt;

warming me

with it’s comforting  familiarity.

I pull it over me like a tent

and sleep in its dream-like embrace.


Carlsbad - Flower fields 044Carlsbad - Flower fields 042aCarlsbad - Flower fields 024Carlsbad - Flower fields 009Carlsbad - Flower fields 017Spring

For years have I have been jailed,
Inside these walls of decorum & propriety,
Like an obedient wife,
Caught in the duality of desires & duties
Until the transgressing thoughts flew through,
The keyhole of these iron gates,
Breaking the darkness with their brilliant colors of the rainbow,
I jumped on the backs of one of these thoughts,
And flew out of my captivity,
Disrobing my cocoon like a butterfly,
Flying out into the eternal Spring of Creativity.

Weekly Photo challenge

Carlsbad - Flower fields 030aWeekly Photos: Orange 

What happened to Max?

Teddy BearShe laid her claim on Max,
Eagerly pulled him off the racks,
The moment they first met, inside the underbelly of Hertie,
Mama’s favorite department store in Germany.

A white furry Teddy bear him,
And pig-tailed, brown eyed girl she,
Became best friends and buddies,
She was six and he was fresh off the racks,

He followed her everywhere,
On her Odyssey to the deep jungles of Amazon,
Shipwrecked with her on the man-eating island no other would dare,
She sowed a web of stories and he played each character with a flair.

She turned girly by thirteen,
Painted her nails and wore designer jeans,
Invited the girls to her pajama parties,
But Max was in on all her schemes.

By sixteen she drifted into a new world,
High school and boys, a new life unfurled,
Max moved into a dark closet,
His position usurped.

And the day came, when she left abroad for college,
By now Max had weathered hands of time,
Washed and dried and stitched with patches,
Max stayed behind.

She flew the world and lived her dreams,
And came back home four years later,
Midst joy and tears and crushing embraces,
By nightfall she had talked herself weary,

And retired to her room, she searched,
Inside cupboards and closets, the old attic upstairs,
but failed to find, her childhood friend and buddy,
And wondered in dismay, “Whatever happened to Max?”

Inspired by Daily Post


Sunset in Goa

Tethered to life by a flimsy lifeboat,
Like a fetus bound to the umbilical cord,
Desire to survive; to stay afloat,
Under the devouring heavens, prayers soared,

Haplessly marooned on an ocean blue,
Long nights and merciless days,
Hope wanes, life plays peekaboo,
Rations dry up, strength decays,

Left a goodbye note inside a glass bottle,
A note to loved one, an apology colossal,
“I wish I had never left you my love, for this journey ill fated,
Wish I had stayed back, in your arms satiated,
A single hope implores me on,
To see your face once more, my beautiful paragon”,

A speck of lifeboat this, lost on the farthest echelon,
Of the blue earth, slowly dwindling…until gone.


Just Float

ImageHeavy is the rock that sinks to the bottom of the sea,

Empty is the heart that will never trust, nor believe,

Doomed is the soul that will never whistle a tune or dance in glee.

Dark is the cave where the rays of sun will never shine,

Sad is the nightingale that for her lover shall always pine.

It’s never easy to always hang on by the edge,

To have a thousand dreams and not one fulfilled,

To see the scrapbook of one’s life sitting empty by the ledge,

The person who lives the fullest, does not live in a cement moat,

For walking the safe path offers no reason to gloat,

I rather be the boy who threw off his galoshes and jumped in the sea,

He may not know have known how to swim, but he sure as hell did float.


Inspired by Weekly writing challenge