Broken vase.
Succulents planted
in its place,
filling space,
naturally enchanted,
momentary phase.
.
Truth reflects.
Mirrors never lie.
Soul connects.
No regrets.
Purpose found, smiles multiply.
Grace in retrospect.
.
Do you know?
Broken pieces hurt.
Don't feel low.
Through it grow.
Oasis in the desert,
it exists, you'll know.
-payalagarwal
NaPoWriMo2021 #Day19
Shadorma -a poetic form with syllable count of 3-5-3-3-5-7
Rhyming scheme: abaaba
Can be extended to any number of stanzas.
Do you know,
sitting on those garden chairs,
amidst flowers,
with laughter all around,
it felt like spring.
.
The chair in the last room,
on which I sat with a book,
while listening to music,
how do I forget it?
.
The purple one in the corner
witnessed my pensive mood.
.
Difficult to part with,
there were those
broken and mended ones,
those we had to let go.
.
Stacked were the plastic chairs,
lighter in weight
that witnessed
our conversations
in the garden,
already donated.
.
Those tiny cane chairs
placed in a niche,
were brought from the fair,
during early childhood.
.
Ah, right here,
in the now,
this cane chair,
on which I mostly sit,
to write my heart out,
or indulge in a conversation
over a cup of tea,
in my balcony,
while witnessing different weathers,
is one of my favourite,
giving me company.
-payalagarwal
TSL #NaPoWriMo2021 #Day18
All of a sudden it happens while
bursting the bubble of inflated ego, and
channeling the energy,
deeply profound meanings are found.
Everything seems clear.
Fruits of wisdom are
gathered with gratitude.
Humming the songs
in desirable tunes,
jazzing up with heartbeats, while
kindling the flame,
lighting the spirit, and
making it shine, in meantime
nothing is taken for granted.
Often we find the
purpose of life.
Quilling the patterns
rising from within, we
slow down,
to appreciate gifts of life.
Ultimately we begin to live,
veil lifts from eyes.
While counting our blessings with
xylophonic tinkering,
yes, we feel alive.
Zen moments.
-payalagarwal
TSL #NaPoWriMo2021#Day17
Neither at peace, nor totally stressed out,
streaming thoughts in mysterious ways,
my mind wanders in unpredictable space.
.
Some photographs make me sad.
Presence of spring goes missing,
while remembering the details of life celebrated.
The smiles are no more the same,
like autumn leaves,
some lives blazed, and shed.
Memories linger on.
.
Anxiously,
I keep wondering,
what really matters
at this point of time.
Precious bonds are
like indoor plants,
when nurtured
with love and care,
they keep growing.
.
It's just another phase,
Men O Pause!
Irritable syndrome,
takes away the sweetness,
from the cups of tea.
Pulse fluctuates,
many a times.
I try to calm down,
in this process
of aging gracefully.
-payalagarwal
#Day16 #TSL#NaPoWriMo2021
In an unanswerable quest
oft we turn inwards,
guided by our instincts.
.
Walking through the meadows,
through the valleys, and the hills,
crossing all the hurdles,
that comes in between,
we find the answers
in the core of our being.
.
The magic unfolds,
divine light shines,
forming the ripples,
clean and pure,
heart becomes a shrine.
.
Somewhere in between
being and becoming,
we realize the value
of breath and time.
-payalagarwal
From the days bygone,
I still remember
the day, I met my soul.
I felt like I was about to die,
when whole life events
rewinded fast,
in front of my eyes.
Good and the bad,
Happy and the sad.
Was I dying?
or was I entering a new life?
.
I was about to sleep,
when I had
a rendezvous with my soul.
In all its magnificence,
it kept growing.
Love is the language of the soul.
My journey had begun,
with humility and love,
surrounded by the elements.
Layer by layer,
the blindfold removed.
Getting a glimpse of life,
with a bird's eye view,
from the soul's perspective,
changed all the equations.
.
There were lessons hidden,
in the mistakes
made unconsciously,
The blessings gathered,
through the kindness passed on,
Good deeds of the ancestors,
that helped me transform.
.
Reborn,
the owl in my balcony,
hooted..
A bat flew in and out,
from the open window
of the living room.
Life changed completely,
I was never the same.
.
A broken key of my laptop,
still reminds me
of the life I lived.
The changed heart
lives in acceptance,
of the now.
-payalagarwal
#TLS #NaPoWriMo2021 #Day14
When the light shines through
the water droplets,
frozen in time,
thousand rainbows
emerge all around.
When the mind is
crystal clear,
and the senses awaken,
energy flows
in rainbow hues,
and fill the pores
with positivity and light.
.
When shift happens,
through black and white,
shines the rainbow.
Hope is found
amidst gloom.
Full of wisdom
from the universe,
a pot of gold is found,
at the end.
River of joy flows within.
-payalagarwal
When the storms rise within me,
it gets difficult for me to consciously see.
You hold my hand, and stay with me,
make me feel comfortable in your company.
Then you look at me with a crazy smile,
and you walk with me for a while,
Out of the blue you talk of a forgotten tale,
and through tears we laugh a little hearty and hale.
In moments like these I wish to tell you,
how lovingly, I hate you.
.
When worldly talks get on my nerves,
Trying to deplete my spirit's reserves
When, silently the salty rivers flow,
through the valleys with the silvery glow,
Feelings uprooted, blocks the way,
Unsettled wanderings to my dismay.
Then pulling me closer, you wipe my tears,
Whispering sweet nothings in my ears,
In moments like these I wish to tell you,
"Lovingly, I hate you."
.
Hate, is a strong emotion, I know,
I keep it at bay, and just let love flow.
I don't want to admit at times,
so I keep writing these rhymes.
I know, that you know, before I say,
You know, you are loved, throughout the day,
When I read these lines to you,
and you smile saying you have no clue,
In moments like these I wish to tell you,
"Lovingly, I hate you."
-payalagarwal
I wouldn't have written it otherwise if it was not for the prompt "Lovingly, I hate you" by Shalini Samuel. Thank you, Shalini.
#TSL #NaPoWriMo2021#Day12
When mankind became a prisoner,
Stuck at home, gripped with fear,
The roads were quiet, nature the listener,
We witnessed it last year with frozen tears.
.
Many a lives lost to the dreaded disease,
The new norms were set to bring in change,
Stats changed, in the houses, on the streets,
Locked in homes, facing the facts strange.
.
Cows, dogs and crows were seen all around,
On lifeless beaches, in greens and grounds.
.
Remembering the year that went by,
Offering us whole new learning,
Survival stories written with spirits high,
Ends they say are the new beginnings.
-payalagarwal
Day 11 of TSL NaPoWriMo2021
Far away,
the rising fumes
from the chimney,
darkens the sky,
reflecting in the stream
of clear water.
The sound of conch shell,
purifies the aura,
and cleanses it all,
silencing the noise within.
.
Lying down, relaxing,
on the green grass,
while observing the details,
a few moments
spent in contemplation.
.
Some of us sit on the shore,
with feet dipped in water,
feeling the surface.
Some stand in the water,
with body half immersed,
praying, evoking the sacred,
While some take a dip,
reviving the energy,
refreshing the senses,
while playing life's symphony.
.
It's all about the choices,
we get to make as per HIS will.
It's a circle of life,
Essence stays.
.
From the valley
of painted expressions
wisdom plucked, and brought
along with the attention,
to the present moment.
This moment shall never return.
Peace of mind is all we seek,
At times, it's good to just be..
Keep rowing your boat gently..
.
Far away from the city life,
A place found surrounded by nature,
Deep sense of relief felt
with renewed energy and perception.
-payalagarwal
#TSL #Napowrimo2021 #Day10
A slight cut
sewn earlier,
now remains open.
Every cut
makes it more expensive.
Wearing the scars, visible,
unstitched,
few threads,
hang through the cuts and folds.
.
My love for denims
keep growing
even when they fade.
Washed and faded,
Torn and tattered,
Be it rough or smooth,
it feels comfortable
in denim surface.
.
Ripped jeans-
A trendy approach,
of the bare skin,
to the mindset,
of the humans
who keep ogling.
.
When you are
"Being a Roman when you are in Rome."
Ah, society becomes the judge,
of morals and values.
Out there secretly wishing
to be free.
Hearts remain the same,
How does it matter,
what do you wear?
a short, jeans, or a saree..
.
Oh dear,
Spare me,
Don't label me,
if you see me
in my ripped jeans.
-payalagarwal
Don't ever question the intelligence
of the ten year old boy,
whom you see every morning,
holding his father's hand,
looking here and there,
having trouble making eye contact,
who stumbles while walking at times.
.
With set of strengths,
and challenges of his own,
unlike others,
he's learning at his own pace.
Try to understand his behaviour,
and his world,
He's being taught
with patience, positivity, and love.
He too is a beautiful soul,
walking on this planet earth.
-payalagarwal
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
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
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
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
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
1.
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.
.
2.
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
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
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
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