mystery – Fleeting Muse

Monalisa

On a bitterly cold Parisian morning, after a long wait in line to enter Louvre and then nearly stampeded by an on rush of myriad tour groups and suffering hordes of selfie clicking Monalisa lovers, many of whom never turned back to look at her, finally the moment arrived when I had my brief few moments with her. Below I try to capture my feelings of the momentus occasion.

O’ Monalisa

Now that I saw thee

Realized I did a mistake

I did not take a selfie

But I did solve the mystery

Of your smile

Must be smiling

Making fools of

Millions like me

Standing in lines for hours

For just a glimpse

Of thee

O’ Monalisa

I could have better spent

A cold November morning

Drinking coffee

Smile on Monalisa

Many a fools

Will definitely follow me

Plotting a Murder : Going For the Kill

This poem is a continuation of my earlier poem, Plotting a Murder: The Trap (https://wp.me/p73yZZ-42S), posted on December 14, 2018. I reproduced the earlier poem at the end of this one.

The saga continues, trap was set and baited,

We gave a free run of the place to the usurpers.

To a long planned vacation we went,

Alas, days had passed and still no carcass. Continue reading “Plotting a Murder : Going For the Kill”

Plotting a Murder : The Trap

Vanishing food from the bowl

Happy that he was eating well

Till I saw some morsels in a corner

Arranged nicely in a row in perfect order Continue reading “Plotting a Murder : The Trap”

My mistress, till death do us part

Away, come away:

Empty your heart of its mortal dream.’ – W.B.Yeats

Seducing me at every step

From the moment of grand entrance

Alluring mistress are you

Promising to keep me company

Till death do us part

I fell into your trap many a times

Weak of mind in moments such

Seduction irresistible to come away with you

Dreams of afterlife, mysterious unknown beckoned

How must you be disappointed with my betrayal

But my sensuous mistress you did know

I have promised myself to someone else

To life, with all the sufferings and pain

I have promised my heart and soul

And when the time comes, as promised

I will leave this body to you

Till death do us part

My mistress

You are no mystery to me

I embrace you with open arms

Death, my eternal mistress

Let me go away on my terms

This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Thirteen

Contemplating Future: Three Line Tales, Week 93

Contemplating what could have been
A future now shrouded in foggy mystery
Life partner lost forever, a life to live in misery

photo by Alex Iby via Unsplash

Three Line Tales-Week 93

Summer of 2017 – Part 2- A New Trail

Continued from previous post : http://wp.me/p73yZZ-3ml
Summer of 2017 had been quite unpredictable. There were a few days of triple digit ( fahrenheit ) temperature followed by mild, even cool for summer, temperature. So when the leader of my weekend warrior group of hikers suggested a new trail, we decided on one that will be in shade for much of the hike just to be on the safe side.

PART 2: June 25, 2017 : Sunday: A New Trail

I would have missed this hike like many of the hikes that I missed during the last few months. After the kids left for college, need to get up early in the morning was no longer a priority. Specially during weekends, it had now became a habit of sorts to scan the social media in the morning. Normally the group that I hike with drive to one meeting point and then bundle together in one or two cars, depending on the number of hikers, to the chosen trailhead for that day.

During all these years we had hiked many trails in the area around Castle Rock State Park but did not hike this particular trail. On this day our group was small, only four hikers. At the start of the journey we were greeted by a mystery, an old VW Bug that must have skidded down from the highway above and stuck for all these years in a tree. Wheels were long gone, paints were faded but there was no mistaking the shape. After the perfunctory selfies and photographs, we proceeded on our hike, leaving the bug and its mystery to be solved by some other mystery blogger.

No more mysteries followed but the trail rewarded with us views of majestic oak groves as the trail meandered up and down the hills. Due to the orientation of the early

morning sun with respect to the hill we were on the shade for majority of the hike. We sent our silent thanks to the weather gods because a few sections where there were no shade, sun was brutal at the hilltop.

This new trail was a joy to hike. Elevation gain was about 400 ft, but we started at a high point of about 2500 ft. We made a loop of the trail, retracing only a few hundred feet of the of the trail at the end of the hike. Definitely a trail worth going back to. We could still see the remnants of wildflowers clinging to the side of the trail in many places. Surely there would be a bounty of wild flowers during spring.

A wild mushroom fulfilled our appetite of photographing wild flowers. Satisfied, we bid adieu to the trail with a promise to come back next spring.

To be continued.

©All photographs in this post were taken by the author. Readers are free to use with proper acknowledgement to the author.

Past is History, Not a Mystery

For those that past is not history but a mystery

Anything that can’t be explained a miracle

At the drop of a hat those who are ready

To confer divinity to reformers of the past

But are ready to punish and instill fear of death

On the followers of reformers of modern age

Heretics and hearsay if you question the past

Are we to believe that everything modern is foolish

And ignore the witch hunts and killings of the past

In the names of the divine and almighties

Fie to those for whom the past is a crutch

To crush any discourse and dissent

Fie to those who will not leave any stone unturned

To keep humanity shackled in fear of an all merciful

Past has becomes a tool in the hands of the powerful

To keep legions in line as blind followers

Reformers, yes! Enlightened humans they were.

We the ignorants put them in pedestals

Covering our eyes with religious blinds

Walking hobbled in our daily life

Looking for a saviour to save our souls

While the merchants of death

Paddle the past as pillars of faith

Windows

Window is the face to one’s heart
If that is true why face is a mask
Never letting anyone know what’s brewing inside
Dark thoughts camouflaged by a sweet smile
Only the person knows what lies behind the
Window that nobody knows is open or closed
Such is the mystery of our daily life