Kaleidoscope

Illusion

In another world,

beyond imagination,

stardust accumulated,

and mirrors were formed,

framed with the silver streaks,

of wondrous reflections,

in the light of truth.

Life was chosen,

in a moment of realisation,

while tasting the two worlds.

Such are near death experiences.

It all felt like dream.

A new world opened its doors,

under the azure sky,

in the flowering tales,

and the cooling embers,

breaking the patterns,

that went round and round

in circles.

In a moment we are here,

As we close our eyes,

the other moment, there.

Either dreams are real,

Or it is all an illusionary reality.

-payalagarwal

"When the angels danced on their heads"

The demons were dancing all around,

When the darkness engulfed

Lost souls could not be found.

When the angels danced on their heads,

they fell in the abysmal stream

in the linings

of their own consciousness.

Perceptions changed,

The strings of lyre broke.

as their wings disappeared.

The fallen angels waited

with the baited breath,

for the renewed wings to grow.

The silver light shined,

and the angels rose,

to fight the demons

of darkness, with their light.

Conquering the darkness,

they danced on the pin heads.

It's absurd, it's weird.

the dreamcatchers

were made

with the angels feathers,

for the sleeping human race.

-payalagarwal

#TSL #NaPoWriMo2021 #Day6

"Inner child"

Under the grape vine,

on the swing, I used to sit,

with a book in my hand.

Sometimes, I sat on the marble floor

with my feet on the cemented stairs.

Those were the times,

when our whole world felt like home.

It all felt real.

In the concrete jungle,

"Real" today is overrated,

Smiles, looks, expressions, relations,

all seems plastic.

My inner child connects with

a bronze statue of a child

placed in the campus

of a high rise society,

with a book in hand,

all day and night,

as if observing the tiny details,

looking at the larger picture,

through the magnifying glass.

The pros and cons of growing up.

-payalagarwal

#TSL #NaPoWriMo #Day5

The lazy music is still.

On a busy street,

In a shop full of

musical instruments,

Many voices

of the strangers were heard,

Singing bowls, in different sizes,

were on display,

with symbols like 'Om',

to calm the soul.

The lazy music was still. Within.

Meditating on sound of the waves,

in the evening, as the moon rose,

Slowly, the winds sang

through palm, and the coconut trees,

Our hearts were beating in symphony.

The lazy music was still. Within.

In the stillness of the night,

the sound of wind chimes

create magic.

Talking our hearts out,

under the starlit sky,

Something stirs within.

The lazy music is still..

rejuvenating and relaxing.

-payalagarwal

"Monster under the bed." (a haibun)

My head was heavy after watching movies, back to back. Before going to sleep, I wrote a page in my diary, kept it on the bedside, near a wooden Ganesha statue, and looked at the watch. It was 1:00 a.m. I fell on the bed, and went to sleep. Something pricked my finger, and strange sound woke me up from deep sleep. Hurriedly, putting on the light, with eyes half closed, I saw the time. It was 3:00 a.m. I saw blood oozing out of my index finger, and a glass was rolling on the floor, water had spilt on my diary lying on the side table. I saw the squeaking monster, hiding under the bed. In the light, it came out, and ran down the pipeline. Looking at the Ganesha's statue, I cleaned my wounded finger, bandaged it, and thought of writing all over again. A new beginning.

Water in my eyes.

Damp pages speak of washed words,

The mouse ran away.

-payalagarwal

#TSL #NaPoWriMo

"Hymn of the night" #NaPoWriMo #Day2

How do I write a hymn of the night,

that often kept me awake.

Sleepless, I've laid,

wondering all about my existence,

questioning deeply,

in moments of restlessness.

Planting a kiss on my forehead,

Assuring and reassuring,

you tell me, we matter.

Taking a deep breath,

I remember the dark of the night,

that taught me to value the light.

Moony tales on the starry night,

At times got obscured by the clouds.

In the darkness, senses awakened,

pearls found.

By grace and gratitude,

His will was written

as hymns in crevices

of the heart.

Moonlight still sing the melodies.

Twenty one years ago,

In that moment of

unsettling argument,

between my heart and the brain,

at eleven in the night,

you played a love song,

loud enough on that music system.

It soothed my soul.

All the thoughts

that took me far from you vanished.

It was all right.

Moving towards each other,

Bridging the differences,

throughout these years,

on a full moon night,

we sat there for hours,

in gratitude, near the sea,

with our cups of coffee.

You played that song again.

Times have changed,

yet, it soothed my soul.

It all felt right.

How do I tell you,

that little things matter,

they add to the memories.

When sleep seems afar,

I lay my head on your shoulder.

You stroke my hair,

and play that song.

It all feels right.

For us, it's like hymn of the night.

Sacred and pure.

-payalagarwal

#TSL #NaPoWriMo

"Skin deep" #NaPoWriMo #Day1

In a chaotic moment,

a strange peace engulfed me,

when you laid your hand

gently on my shoulder.

As rain calmed the heated earth,

soothing the heat of the moment,

a raindrop settled on my palm.

Your sweet gentle smile

found its place in my eyes.

The lakes filled us,

and we sat there for hours,

holding hands, watching the ripples,

talking about how the strangers

in this strange world,

were destined to become one.

We looked at each other.

The whole universe reflected in our eyes.

I closed them, and the cosmos filled me.

Poetic reflections settled on my skin.

The warmth of your touch

ran through the veins,

closely knitted,

and found its place on my body,

skin deep, as cellular memory.

-payalagarwal

"Art" #NaPoWriMo Early bird

work in progress..2021

I wish I could write, a few verses

with all my heart, for you,

to read and feel.

The wordsmith in me, artistically

looks at the picture of the porcelain flute,

and brings its attention to the wooden one

that still waits silently, on the table,

in the corner of the room.

Some lessons learnt a few years ago,

just before life happened,

are now forgotten.

Since then, many tunes lay trapped within,

in the breath waiting to be played.

Scrolling through the museum of art,

I viewed historic pieces, priceless,

then paused to take a look, deep enough,

and found a broken sculpture.

Who knows, if the artist made it that way? Just a part of the lips visible on the expressive face,

and the rough edges clearly had a lot to say.

..and then there were colourful clouds, like dreams painted on a canvas with sprinkled stardust. The positive and the negative spaces, I learnt about them too.

Art..it takes you places, and brings you back to your own truth.

-payalagarwal

How I wish..

Setting myself free on the last day of OctPoWriMo with a heart full of gratitude. This month had been full of healing and self-realization. Much soul-searching done this month.

Warriors of the light, while fighting the darkness that overshadows their being, learn to embrace themselves in totality.

The path to growth emerges through imperfections, the hidden treasures

often put them on a remarkable journey.

Shadows are visible in the light. Let the light of truth shine to overcome the darkness. We all hold the dark spaces within us.

As we allow the darkness to dissolve in light, we feel free, and lighter.

Travel light..

-payal

Goa, 2020

How I wish I could write about spring

In this season where fall and winter meet.

Attaching images to the nature's string,

When bright dandelions grow in the street.

In this season where fall and winter meet,

A kingfisher arrived spreading its wings,

The bright dandelions grow in the street,

Faraway from the rooftop a bird sings.

A kingfisher arrived spreading its wings,

For the warmth of sunshine heart pines.

Faraway from the rooftop a bird sings.

Caught in memories of the grape vines.

For the warmth of sunshine heart pines.

Attaching images to the nature's string,

Caught in memories of the grape vines.

How I wish I could write about spring.

-payal

It's 31st Day of OctPoWriMo.

Pantoum

Continue with as many stanzas as you wish, but the ending stanzathen repeats the second and fourth lines of the previous stanza (as its first and third lines), and also repeats the third line of the first stanza, as its second line, and the first line of the first stanza as its fourth. So the first line of the poem is also the last.

Last stanza:

Line 2 of previous stanza

Line 3 of first stanza

Line 4 of previous stanza

Line 1 of first stanza

I am..

Goa, 2020

I am a wave,

that reaches the shore, tiding,

and recedes to dissolve into oneness.

I am the ocean

with the buried

treasures in my depth.

I am a speck of dust,

in this universe,

with a space of my own.

A little human, a little God,

a little restless, a little at peace.

a dreamer, and a doer,

a little weird, a little wild

a little funny, a little broken

a little rigid, a little flexible

I am fragmented, I am whole.

I am improving

I am a work in progress

I am a new age woman.

-payal

30/10/2020

It's Day 30 of OctPoWriMo.

Wanderers

Goa, 2020

Wanderer of the dreamy land

Travelling through the reveries

Lost and found in the memories

A vagabond in the woodland,

Fill the cracks beside railway tracks

In the light rests sparkling on sand

Sun-kissed nomadic treasuries

Wanderers return to their land.

-payal

29/10/2020

It's day 29 of OctPoWriMo

The Octain, full name Octain Refrain, is a form of poetry developed by English poet Luke Prater in December 2010.

It comprises eight lines as two tercets and a couplet, either as octosyllables (counting eight syllables per line), or as iambic tetrameter, whichever is preferable. Trochaic tetrameter also acceptable. The latter yields a more propulsive rhythm, as opposed to iambs, which lilt.

As the name suggests, the first line is a refrain, repeated as the last (some variation of refrain acceptable). Rhyme-scheme as follows -

A-b-b

a-c/c-a

b-A

When a butterfly got trapped

Goa, 2020

An ordinary butterfly flapped its wings

and got stuck in the spider web.

Forgetting the power it held within

The tides strongly flowed and ebbed.

In false hopes it remained stuck

and held on tightly to the strings

Losing itself in the clutches of negativity

Slowly it forgot it had wings.

From there it saw the flying birds,

the bees, butterflies and the colourful flowers

It felt trapped in the trail of thoughts,

Remembering the journey with rainy showers.

It prayed for freedom, and the courage

that would keep it on its path of life

It fought for its survival braving the storm

and wanted to just end the strife.

Just then the gardener arrived

to trim the plants, and remove the weeds

It heard the butterfly calling his name,

The strangled butterfly, he quickly freed.

It thanked the gardener and took a flight,

From flower to flower in gratitude.

Recalling its struggles that made it strong,

Transformation happened with right attitude.

-payal

28/10/2020

A fable is a poetic story composed in verse or prose with a moral summed up at the end. Usually using animals as characters to teach a valuable lesson.

October

Goa, 2020

Transparent veil lifts between the two worlds

The ancestral place still has its own charm

where the midnight sky shines with twinkling words

and poet's heart melts to keep winters warm.

The holy days begin, and world reform

When the muse brighten up the hidden thoughts

October sets in beauty, life's transform

Fragrance of Parijaat the wind has brought.

Innocent laughter when moonlight performs.

Nature blesses while looking at leaf forms.

-payal

27/10/2020

It's day 27 of OctPoWriMo

The Decuain (pronounced deck•won), created by Shelley A. Cephas, is a short poem made up of 10 lines, which can be written on any subject. There are 10 syllables per line and the poem is written in iambic pentameter.

There are 3 set choices of rhyme scheme:

ababbcbcaa, ababbcbcbb, or ababbcbccc

"Differences"

Goa, 2020

It's good to be different,

Doing your own thing,

Loving your life,

and living it.

Deep down,

in the core

of our being,

we are but the same.

How often do we trust our instincts?

Does it even matter?

Habits rarely change.

Just like you,

I understand life,

and live it,

according to

my conditioning.

Experiences sweet and sour,

different from yours,

have added to my life.

We are different, yet alike.

Poles apart,

enjoying the differences,

we meet somewhere,

at crossroads.

Why does it happen?

From an observer's point of view,

Normal becomes abnormal?

When it comes to life,

we live differently.

Between the normal and abnormal

lies the difference of opinion.

Just like yours,

My life comes in myriad hues.

Situations differ!

-payal

26/10/2020

It's day 26 of OctPoWriMo

Heartfelt

Goa,2020

When words fall on paper,

unrhymed, uncounted,

free-flowing,

chaos dissolves,

thoughts stretch

beyond words,

expanding the possibilities

of their proper execution,

in metaphorical existence.

Bounderies dissolve

and the poem takes shape,

as the muse wills.

At times,

while exercising

poetic licence

Anarchy often turns

into turmoil, disorder reigns.

There is beauty in counting steps.

Else a poem becomes a prose.

Just like people,

not every poem touches the heart.

-payal

25/10/2020

It's day 25 of OctPoWriMo

Why not

Goa, 2020

Hey,
Sit with me,
Tell me how you feel.
How difficult it is now
To put the words to action.
Don't give excuses,
Walk the talk.
Smile.
.
Hey,
Do you know,
How do I do that?
Can I really do that?
These questions bug me at times.
I give it a try.
It happens.
Life.
.
Oh,
You know what,
I had little dreams
Colours on my pallette scream
In my vision many times.
I make up my mind,
World open
Doors.
.
I
Deeply sigh,
Taking leap of faith,
Procrastinating no more,
I get up and dust it all,
While breathing gently,
Taking steps,
Move.
.
Write
A blog post
With all that matters.
Taking pauses in between,
Trusting myself completely,
Daring to write down
How I feel.
Hope.
.
Ah!
Cleaning cache.
Opening laptop,
I get deadly reminders.
A few things to do right now.
Reread the stories.
Search the files,
Save.
.
You
My dear friend,
I want you to know,
My own survival stories,
For you to understand life,
Better perspectives
No blame game
Live.
-payal
24/10/2020

It's day 24 of OctPoWriMo.

The Joseph's Star, a poetry form created by Christina R Jussaume on 08/06/07 in memory of her Dad. This poem has no rhyme, and is written according to syllable counts. Syllables are 1, 3, 5, 7, 7, 5, 3, and 1. The poem may be written on any subject, be center aligned, has no stanza limit, and should have complete statements in each line.

Gratitude

Goa,2020

Treading slowly in the moment

To acknowledge the beauty of flowering trees

Trying to decipher the hidden omens

To live it fully and be at ease.

Reclaiming life lost in storm

Reviving the dreams kept in closet

Raindrops fall and the pearls transform

Rendering hope in nectar deposits.

Each morning begins with prayer.

Entrusting the energy that never lies,

Endearing moments full of grace

Enriching life with soothing ties.

Neatly shedding burden of the heart,

Now gratitude fills me like never before

New energy gives a new start

Naturally light seeps in through closed door.

-payal

23/10/2020

It's day 23 of OctPoWriMo

Trolaan, created by Valerie Peterson Brown, is a poem consisting of 4 quatrains. Each quatrain begins with the same letter. The rhyme scheme is abab.a

Starting with the second stanza you use the second letter of the first line of the first stanza to write the second each line beginning with that letter.

On the third stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the second stanza and write the third each line beginning with that letter.

On the fourth stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the third stanza and write the fourth each line beginning with that letter.

Coincidences

Goa, 2020

Caravan began to move forming chain of thoughts

Over the time we sat connecting the dots

Intuitive senses developed somewhere in between

New perspectives emerged with experiences umpteen

Coming to the point from where it all arose.

Inkling of the dawn awakened the meadows.

Deep down the truth churns, following the gut,

Eternal joys to life never have a shortcut.

Neverending inspiration flows all around,

Countless images formed, deeply profound.

Effortlessly words flow as metaphors spin

Surprisingly the key to the lock lies within.

-payal

22/10/2020

My favourite form Acrostic for Day 22 of OctPoWriMo.

Acrostic Poetry is where the first letter of each line spells a word, usually using the same words as in the title.

A slice of life

Small little stove,

heated with a lighted candle,

a delectable slice of sweetness

cooked with little hands,

amidst the dramatic play of characters,

the taste of it still lingers on.

Nothing tasted

as sweet as those pancakes,

except love.

Bitter sour experiences

tasted like the black powder

that exploded

on the tip of the tongue.

Tantalizing taste

of balanced ingredients

in a bowl of happiness

added a creamy texture to life.

-payal

21/10/2020

It's day 21 of OctPoWriMo and I've written a free verse today.

Lovescapes

Goa, 2020

I remember that evening,

with you when my heart wished to sing,

Warmth of touch when you held my hand,

It stirred and shook me from within.

Pure love, nothing to lose or win.

Moment slipped from hand like coarse sand,

On plush ground expectations meet,

Soft, furry rug beneath the feet,

Confusion subsides in love land.

-payal

It is Day 20 of OctPoWriMo

The Nove Otto poetry form was created by Scott J. Alcorn. It is a nine-lined poem with 8 syllables per line (isosyllabic). The rhyme scheme is as follows: aacbbcddc.