The Thursday Think Tank - #46 Monsters

Menacing monsters never come
Out of shadows. They wisely wait for
Naive beings to take a daring
Step into their dreary world of darkness.
Then they take special delight in sucking out
Every ounce of goodness and
Replacing it with all the evil that exists.

Mysterious Mirror

Mysterious mirror of myriad metaphors,

tell the truth of what you are. 

You've played with people

and their fickle perceptions,

deluded them into seeing 

only beauty that exists in dreams.

You've deceived and dragged many

 into the deepest dregs of despair,

making them see ghastly images 

of ugliness not there. 

No one knows of what you are;

they see only themselves,

whether beautiful or ugly

in your elusive ever-changing face

But you can't elude the enlightened;

they know the truth that there exists 

neither beauty nor ugliness-
just shadowy perceptions. 

Dedicated to my Mentor

My 101st poem is dedicated to my mentor- Venkat Kaka. Kaka means Uncle in many Indian languages. He's the person who suggested that i should make a blog. And here i am, 101 posts old, all because of him.

Very few people are lucky
Enough to get a
Nice, no wonderful mentor like you. You
Know how to make me
Aspire to find
The best in myself.

Kind have you been to guide
A mostly confused
Kid; and tell you what:
A lot of kids aren't that lucky.

Please do not 

burst my bubble;

i'm happy there.

My first calligram

My
           pen
                              posed

                                                                                                      over

                                                                                                             paper 

                                                                                                         i 

                                                                                           wonder

                                                                                 what

                                                                                 to

                                                                                write.

      .

                                   

The Thursday Think Tank #45 - Secrets

This is the second time i'm going to give an introduction to a poem i've written. It is about a hideous habit of mine. I'll understand if you are  repulsed upon reading this, but this prompt encourages me to share it with you. Negative comments are welcome.

My guilt ridden secret
keeps me company,
popping in my mouth
when i'm hungry,
tired, bored,
sleepy, sad
or just angry.

It pops in
my mouth
only
when i'm alone
or with close family.

It's my thumb
and i am
a FIFTEEN year old
thumbsucker.

In the Deep Darkness of Night

Outside:
the door creaks,
wind howls,
leaves rustle swooshing,
thunder rumbles,
panes rattle
and rain pitter- patters.

Inside:
the fan chugs,
tap leaks -
drip.tip.drip.tip.drip;
dad snores,
sister and mother breathe deep rhythmic;
and i lie,
muscles clenched, heart
beating drumming pounding
erratically in my chest,
cold sweat lining my brow.

Somehow in the deep darkness of night,
in silence of sleep,
all soft sounds seem scarily amplified.

A Poet's Ennui

I'm exhausted, depleted,

tired, uninspired

and as empty as 

a large void. 

But You Still Have a Choice

Let the earth 

hug you tight.

Don't swim, 

don't fly.

You'd rather be safe

than drown

or crash down 

upon unforgiving ground.

Don't crawl, don't walk,

don't skip, don't jump;

don't meet resistance.

Stay safe.

Let her strangle you

in her overbearing embrace,

while being rooted to 

where you are.

Let your chest grow tight,

tight till you can't breathe

and choke to your death.

But you still have a choice.

The Thursday Think Tank - #42 Love

She came to me 

after nine months of mamma's

of pregnant anticipation,

red face screwed up

in a surprised bawl.

She looked so cute with

  an adorable crooked nose,

velveteen buttocks,

fragile fingers 

and curled up toes.

When i saw her first

on that 

magical May morning,

i knew that it was

sisterly love at first sight.