If I could be six again…

When I came across the BlogAdda prompt for Write Over the Weekend which wanted us to relive our childhood when we were six years old, and include the line “I wish I could be six again, so I could…” in the post, I was immediately drawn to the theme. This poem has flowed out of my mind like a gentle stream, carrying with it my prized memories of childhood, which can never come back but can only be remembered….

Little Boy

I wish I could be six again,
So I could wake up as the sun rose,
Before Mumma and Daddy;
While they still dozed and,
I tip-toed..hush hush!
Like a good child, I bathed and brushed,
And when Mumma opened her eyes,
Boo! I surprised her.

I wish I could be six again,
So I could sit behind daddy on his scooter,
Wrapping my tiny arms,
Around his warm belly and,
Wear a carefree smile.
The morning breeze blowing past me,
As I flew towards school,
Ah! What a joyful ride.

I wish I could be six again,
So I could sit on my dear Grandpa’s lap,
Under the neem tree,
The autumn aroma wafting,
And his stories slowly blossoming.
When Grandma would sing,
The lovely lullaby…
Alas! Now, they’ve gone far.

I wish I could be six again,
So I could relive the magical moments,
Sitting on the bed,
Clutching a plastic doll,
I would wish for a little sister.
And God blessed us,
When one November night…
Lo! Little Jolly was born.

I wish I could be six again,
So I could run on the open playground,
Race yet not compete,
Make friends and not foes,
Be a wild free spirit, uncaged.
But, time flowed past,
A golden era now extinct.
Ouch! Why have I been dreaming?

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.


The Promise of the Last Petal

Yesterday, I watched the most heartbreaking yet beautiful movie of 2014 “The Fault in Our Stars” and I was utterly moved, almost to tears. The movie evoked in me strong emotions about human sorrow and love, that entwines our lives so deeply, and we are simply overwhelmed by those emotions. No emotion is stronger than the sorrow of losing a loved one, especially to a disease “Cancer” which, if not diagnosed and treated properly, numbers the days of the patient and slowly takes him or her away from the loved ones. The movie inspired me to write a short poem.

Stock Photo of a Hand Picking daisy Petals

She looked outside,

Through the misty pane;

The eyes uncertain, if…

Her life was on the wane,

Or the doctored hope,

That she will live,

With the numbing pain.

She held the daisy,

A gift from Mamma,

With fondling fingers,

Stroking the petals,

Innocent and white,

And counted only four,

The months that remain.

She closed her eyes,

Her cold breath standstill,

A promise spawning,

Deep within the heart, that,

“When the last petal falls,

And my world turns white,

I shall smile again.”


She wailed and tears rolled down her eyes.

The Red light shone bright outside the hall.

She ceased to cry and smiled in glee.

The Red stream flowed, yet there wasn’t agony.

She took her first breath and sang a cry.

The mother’s Red lips curled into a smile.

She opened her tiny eyes, sparkling like the stars,

To a world of Red hearts and selfish love.

She knew not what fate had schemed for her.

That Red would mark her fateful destiny.

She watched the years swiftly travel by,

The Red roses came and so did the thorns…

One dark night, she saw the evil eyes.

And no one helped her in the times of Red.

She struggled and writhed in torment.

Alas! The clothes took the Red stain.

She yearned for the stroke of Death,

For Earth was the hell draped in Red.

She embraced her like in the time of birth.

Red was the colour of love…and ‘not blood’.

She soon found the worthy one.

Her forehead blessed with the Red mark.

Yet again,she wailed and tears rolled down…

The Red light shone bright outside the hall.

She ceased to cry and smiled in glee.

And the flame of hope burned in fiery Red.

Life of a woman

The Rainy Weather

RainThe cloud burst, and,

Shuddering sounds echoed aloud!

I looked out through the misty window.

Saw the sky painted in charcoal,

The clouds like smoky cotton,

No strands of sun rays seen,

Only a frosty breeze aching the soul.

My pensive mind in discord,

Whether the rain soothes the fire inside ,

Or stokes it with anguish and gloom.

The patter of the drops orchestrated,

With the thunders and the swooshing gust,

The trees waltzing in harmony,

And I enchanted by the serene verdure,

Take the leap of faith to the infinite.

The Unwilling Denial

A week has passed since my last blog post. Although I wanted to blog, but I couldn’t. Certain events took place in my life, leaving me distraught and in a retrospective mood. I suddenly found myself at a juncture where I realized what love is and what happens when you deny your love for the person you care about! The poem is a projection of this mindset.

Broken Heart

Two nights passed in denial,

The bitter truth mocking at me.

If loving you wasn’t daunting,

Then why…

Confessing seems not easy.

Two nights passed in denial,

Like a blooming rose, it grew;

You saw, yet you ignored;

Then tell me why….

Dear, can I not love you?

Two nights passed in denial,

My heart is pure, you know.

Like an infant to be cared;

Then you dear,

Why not let the feelings flow?

Two nights passed in denial,

I wait for your loving embrace,

Deny not, the spark exists.

Look at me…..

Let love fill this forlorn space.