Unsolicited

Today's prompt on Poets And Storytellers United is : Luxury 

Mrs. Crow

My busybody neighbour 

In the habit of giving me solemn advice

From time to time 

Asked me once, "What is luxury?"

A broken pencil and notebook in hand.

I said succinctly,

"Well, to own your own exclusive Genie."

She scoffed,

"What 'bout havin' a pair of unassuming wings?

I thought about it and replied, "Not bad.

It'll reduce my travelling cost."

"What about a nest of twigs and waste on the highest branch of the tallest tree?"

I pondered on the package. She added,

"With air, water and light for free...no bill you see. Constructed in simplicity.... maintenance optional absolutely."

I debated over its utility, "What about rain and

sun and snow? How'd you run the show?"

"Oh that!" She looked meditative,

"I guess you've got to rely on feathers and leaves." She shrugged.

"What about food?" I interjected

"Best of the best. We pick and choose."

She boasted.

Unconvinced, I objected rather lamely,

"But I have got no feathers." 

She nodded her head sagely,

"That's the problem, you see...

You are not basically meant for luxuries."

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Breath To Breath

I love the meditative dawn

When clatter of my feet 

On the floor rises like a song

I love the meditative dawn 

                         Morning walks in with grace

                         And a cuppa steaming chai

                         Sipping I look at world afresh

                         Morning walks in with grace

Afternoon wraps in late 

A long shadow over nests

I mull over dreams unchased

Afternoon wraps in late

                           Dusk has a stealthy tiptoe

                           Forgotten it's unwept woes

                           A surprise spring to its toes

                           Dusk has a stealthy tiptoe

Evening with its repertoire

Of prayers and magical choirs

Healing wounds of yore

Evening with its repertoire

                           Night folds in like a child

                           Playing all day in the wilds

                           It's time in the womb to hide

                           Night folds in like a child

Days nights noons 'n eves

Breath to breath I live

No loss no gain no peeves

Breath to breath I live

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You And I - A Story Made Up Of Stories

They are never too close to be intimate nor too far  to be distant - the moon dotes on the earth just like that; the waves kiss the shore

then recede back; the wind caresses the blooms but does not hold the fragrances far too long; you and I make a good pair a little restrained a little aloof, a little carefree a little too obviously callous in each other's company. 

We have not set these boundaries but they have just erupted on their own from our cautiousness of what will people say , how will we face ourselves on our own.

So we pretend to know each other casually if  it demands so and sometimes we let caution to the wind and be brazen no less no more. 

This game we play with our own souls , our lives, our stories and call it a functional collaboration, a ploy agreed upon mutually. 

A plot of blatant lies, camouflaging half truths, emotional gaslighting deliberately construed to bestow a superfluous dignity to a venture which should have been bold enough to stand on its own two feet but instead totters on a deadly combination of vulgar disdain and demure submission.

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The Fly In The Coffee

The fly in the coffee disappointed me. I had thought I could slow-sip through life but the wicked fly denounced my dream.

A second(ary) cup was mandatory, almost essential. There has to be a Plan B, you know...when Plan A goes awry.

But a second cup is a second cup. It did not perk me up the way the first cup did.

Nevertheless I did not leave it to chance. But gulped down the rest without a qualm lest the monstrous fly again dissolved my plan

of living a life of sedentary pace and hard-earned contentment. 

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