Love

Strawberry

At times it is not

Arms and me which

Tickles your senses.

Strawberries and dark

Chocolate also

Become surrogate lovers

And Iam left yearning

For both your attention

And sensuous taste.

For Big Tent Poetry

Speaking off

Abandoned and

Ignored feelings

Gradually crystallize

To precise memories

 

Feet

Floating thoughts

Rooted feet

Everything rests in toes

Proof

Crumpled proof

Of your feelings

Is tightlipped in

My purse. It

Fondles and teases

My senses and Iam

Not able to doff it

For Big Tent Poetry

Intrigue

Like a story

With dreadful moments

And pacifying ending,

We grasp our life to

Scripted emotions

And seek an intrigue

In the well drafted reactions.

For Three Word Wednesday. Check out the awesome site.

Winds

Trembling winds

Touching mountains

Spreading yearning love

Words ring

You are a new leaf

Suddenly malapert

When all I have known

You as a mugwump

I vamoose

And seek temporary solace

In my silence.

 

Two sides have to face each other

We cannot conjoin contradictions!

 

Words used for prompt

 

Malapert- Unbecomingly bold

 

Mugwump- A person who is unable to make up his or her mind on an issue, esp. in politics; a person who is neutral on a controversial issue.

 

Vamoose- To leave hurriedly or quickly; decamp.

 

For Big Tent Poetry

Crumpled demands

May be its about

Weightless paper

Floating without fear

Of being crumpled.

I ignore the feisty one

Ridiculing my attention.

I probably will never

Have the courage

To accept your demands

Or deny their existence

For Three Word Wednesday

....

Reign my present
Don’t sneak forever
Into memories

Clown

I hold all the blood in my round nose.

You smile and laugh at the feet which

Bounces up and down in frenzy madness.

These are toes, which balance on knuckle

Of few pennies.

The bloated dress hides all the passion

Of first love and never found acceptance.

Beneath this plump exterior, never shall

You see, the scrawny face. Beyond this tent

You shall talk only about happy faces

And fleeting humans.

For Big Tent Poetry

Routine is the day

Humming my
Routine chores,
The escape route
Seems vibrant with hopes.
But, Iam still to realize
The exit pathways may
Be dark. Really dark!

For Three Word Wednesday

Life

Beneath this reality,
Enigma
Called life.