The Bud

Every bud
brings a message of hope,
A mystery to be unraveled,
What it holds
Tightly in its chest;
As it blooms, spreads
Beauty and fragrance,
It does not know
Will it be plucked
Or just wither away,
It blooms,
It’s in its nature,
Tomorrow is another day.
We move forward,
Carrying that message,
Cherishing the good,
And spread,
Love and warmth
All around.

---

Featured image photo by author

A cover beautiful

Fell for the cover

Ignoring the perils

That may hide inside

Aware that beauty skin deep

Once withered

May reveal a hideous heart

Or a seed of hope nurtured

Waits

Uncertainties perilous , or

Exhilaration unbound

---

Featured image by author, 9-6-2019

Friday Freebies: Love is Heavenly: Set of Haikus

Love is heavenly

Pain of waiting exquisite

A game played by two

*************

Love blossoms quiet

A sign subtle raises hope

Heart sure skips a beat

************

Hear music in air

Real, imaginary

Love sure does not care

*********

Celestial is love

Mundane ego in the way

A parting of path

*********

Waiting and hoping

Love not a path of roses

Thorns are part of love

*********

Communication

Understanding, listening

Hope is essential

********

Love is happiness

Not a forbidden apple

Let go of ego

 

 

Lonely Rose in Winter : RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge # 230 Exist & Today

This post is in response to Ronovan’s Weekly Haiku Challenge .

Photograph by author, Dec 4, 2018

Rose lonely today

Alas, winter’s brutal cold

But hope does exist

Global Warming : RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge # 228 Future & Hope

This post is in response to Ronovan’s Weekly Haiku Challenge .

Global warming lurks

Hope for future depends on

Ingenuity

Friends will remain Friends

In our adolescence, we leave our homes to go to colleges and universities for higher studies.  For many of us that would be the first time staying away from home alone.  We make new friends, spend few years of our formative life together, graduate and then move out in search of our livelihood.  In old days, many a times, that was the last time we would meet or correspondance with friends that we spent years together.  Modern technology and social media is making it easier to track old friends whose memories we kept alive for years in our mind.  Alas, with time people change. Memories of distant past and present clash sometimes and produce unexpected results.

Poem below is my feeling about meeting groups of old classmates in social media after decades of being completely out of touch.  Those feelings may resonate with some of my readers.  Appreciate your feedback.

We have traversed distances long
Climbed mountains high
Savored the fruit of success

Hobson’s Choice

Dream or hope
Take one or the other
Life gave me a choice
I begged for both

Game of Love

The game of love

Is not what you think

Takes two to tango

Just one to break up

A spring of dreams

Laid barren by

Midsummer’s sun

Sent to cold storage

Deep Winter’s snow

Yesterday’s rose petals

Withered and blown away

The game of love

Flourishes watered by

Faith and hope

Patience and desire

Compromise makes it bloom

The game of love

Not for the faint hearted

Commitment keeps it alive

Weathering storms of doubt

The game of love

Rich pleasure

For those

Willing for

A slow waltz

I do not dream anymore

I do not dream anymore
Dreams,not achieved
Do not bother
And ruin my days
Know what will be said
Labels will be assigned
Disappointment, failure
Underachiever, indifferent

I do not dream anymore
Just so that you know
Have left those days behind
When I used to see
The reflection in the mirror
And not recognize the face
Looking back at me
A face defined by others

I do not dream anymore
Made peace with myself
No need to look at the mirror
Because I know in my heart
I will like what I will see

I do not dream anymore
Dreams that probably
Were not mine
To begin with
But hope, I still hope
And I know that
I will be able to live
Without my dreams
And make a life of it

I do not dream anymore
Now that learnt to love myself
I  learnt to love
And share my love
Without fear of
Acceptance or rejection
I do not dream anymore

Fistful of Stars Covered by Dark Clouds : Collection of Five Short Poems

Wrote this collection of five short poems first in my mother tongue, Axomiya(Assamese), couple of weeks back.  Translated these to English today with the Axomiya version following.  The first poem, titled If Death be a Lover was posted on my blog on March 16, 2018.

If death be a lover

And grants only one wish

Will make death promise

To embrace and take me whole