The Midas Touch

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Today's Prompt : The Poem should contain          Complete Name of the Poet's Favourite Book

If only I could turn

My life upside down

And yell, "Eureka"

Like Archimedes had done

"Why upside down?"

You may ask 

I'll reply to that

Just give me a while

A simple wish 

With logic of its own

If you care to mull over

You'll understand soon

When you empty your bin 

Or bag or case

Don't you place it upside down

To cleanse off all trace

Of the clutter inside

So do I want to declutter

My life so that I can

Dispose off the slushpile

And start afresh ... dream anew

Even if that never ever comes true

But alas! I am yet to find that one

Sorcerer's Stone

Which can do the trick

Turn the clock back soon

Let life play a jig on its axis 

But if you come upon

The angel who has it

Just whisper my name

To her and in a flash

See the magic wand

Swing in action

Moonwalking may you

Find me "beyond 

                the horizon 

                  beyond"

 Like Michael Jackson

Wanderlust

This week's prompt : 🏙️ City of Dreams 

I had thought at first

I wouldn't opt 

For this prompt 

But then on second thought

"What the heck let's move on..."

I don't have a favourite stop, as ye know

Coz am a reclusive vagabond 

From the days of yore

But my ever increasing lust 

Lingers longer than I want

As I eyed the labyrinthine

Gullies washed in sparkling blue

Again the wandering fever

Took over me

Just as I was going to get lost in the maze

The PC caught hold of me

And screamed, "How dare you haste"

Since then I am ogling over my dream

Of vanishing into the blue

But the screen won't slide apart

And engulf me unto

🤦🤦😋😋😜😜

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I Am Who

The countdown has begun

By the end of this year

I hope to be a free bird

With wings flapping

Drawing an arch across

The vastness of the sky

However I am yet to learn

How to be light enough

To take off to the clouds

How to trash the pent up

Dark mass of unwanted 

Thoughts heavy on the 

Shoulders which slouch

My stance and sleep within

Me when I am awake and

Wakes up to torment when

I wish "good night" to night

The learnings are ancient

The unlearning sure is not easy

Forgetting the past baffles me

Forgiveness .....I am sorry!! What?

I am yet to empty the bin

And stop filling it up again

Time in hand is too short

To sort out the clutter

To weave a new song to coo

I have to begin from the very

Beginning of knowing

And unknowing I am who?

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Mistakes Are Mine

I have shared a lot with her

Opened my heart out

My dissensions with my family

My concept of the ideal

Which was never to be found

The way I wanted to reshape

My childhood so that I could

Grow up a better person

My fear of intimacy

My inability to handle that barrage

Of emotions which I had suppressed

Over epochs , my passionate clinging

To bitterness, the inexcusable hatred

For people who have deprecated my self

My anger which is the only expression

For everything I have been deprived of

My acute sense of righteousness

The injustices languishing within me

Like  festering wounds which refuse to heal

Undoubtedly she is a good listener

Her calculated inputs sort me out 

Tells me to go about life mechanically

Day in and day out without complaint

Without repentance, without guilt, 

Without remorse - for a while it consoles me

And kind of pushes me forward

But at times as I am pulled back again

She keeps quiet because she has repeated

Herself too often and too much that 

Sometimes it sounds gibberish, garbled

I resent those moments - I chose her

Because she is only mine but I wish

When I ventilate my angst in so many

Different ways she could cry out to stop me

From going on and on or hush me up with a 

Hug or just shed a few tears because 

I just can't 

Today's Prompt : AI

Pic from Google

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Music I Can't Hate

 I hate to say 

I have no song to hate

chirping of the birds early morn

 click of a latch opening to dawn

 sprinkle of water on the leaves

 welcome bark of my naughty pet

for a trot in the gentle breeze 

 sharp chiming of the alarm

 soft shuffle of my helping hand

shrieking whistle of the milk pot

 tea to a full boil on the stove

 spooning of the hot drink

 first of  my mom's day meals 

 crisp corn flakes in the cup

 dry chuckling notes I so love 

as  sky warms up to a glow

 bell rings....  tis the milkman I know

 vegetable and fruit sellers call out

in  singsong ways 

the tap rolls out

bucket fills up without a noise

unfolding of the sartorial pile

a car revving ...'nother reversing

mad rush...honking ... hurrying...swerving 

 then the smooth stop at the gate

clicking of boots

punching of cards

quiet parting of the glass 

 PC waking up 

the music's all mine

 .... sometimes a soft score 

at times a crescendo so high

midday....the giggles, the guffaws, the snides

a new lyric of flowing tide

taken over  by  hushed tones 

of rustling sheafs

heaps on heaps

agreeing...disagreeing....making a point.....

sometimes a debate too loud and long

measures of  tea cups or  coffee stimulus

a vocal perhaps not so sonorous 

seeping into the quietude of corridors

gradually as dusk descends to the floor

emptying out of the parking lot

a vigorous welcome.....back to my hearth 

quietened only by crunching of the munch

i wake her up with that warming cup

earlier hand made i miss so much 

her vacant looks, her garbled speech,

her despair soothed by a touch

flicking on of the TV

does not make sense....yet there it is

till the plate of smoked bread 

and curry

is placed before with a flurry

the impatient finding of the pills

which helps me to climb uphill

and then the last drooping of lids

 my out of scale snores

matching with my peeves

all are music 

i just can't hate

like the jingle of a non-stop bell

life sings out to me

with so much zest 

or is it just a mindless jest?  

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What's Not Done

in the womb of the night

i let myself count

what's left undone

in the wink of a moment

they call a lifetime

to grasp the whispered

tales of the wind

to swim away with the

gracious clouds

to playfully whack

the peaks so high

just to startle them out 

of their yogic stance

to snooze on the 

top most branch

of that tree

so near to my window

yet left  unseen

hugging the shimmers 

of a chuckling sun

pirrouette amidst the stars

forlorn 

humming the tune

oh so bygone

resting my head against the

crystal arch of the

crescent moon  🌙

and let the goons

wear out their wars

unbind the width of 

the azure sky with a

a measuring tape of 

sartorial delight

and wrap it around

like a chiffon dress

creases saved

and wrinkles unpressed

to wisk away to a

a god forsaken land

where no-one knows 

who i am

throughout this birth

i wasted time in 

 weighing my bags

 leaving much undone

will i get a wisp 

of a chance

to shirk away

what i ought not done

before the clock's

overwhelming sigh

to swipe away the debris

and say goodbye 

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