Numbered Forever

For this week's optional prompt on Poets And Storytellers United, we are invited to write poetry or prose which includes numbers.

Here is mine :

When I was born, ages ago, the hospital did not number my birth. 

As a student I was known by my Roll Number.

During exams my presence was proved again by a number  on the attendance/answer sheet.

At work place it was the Employee Code

Post retirement, thankfully, the Employee Number remains valid.

As a citizen I am again identified by a number.

We have, it seems, become prisoners of numbers.

Life has become a series of checklists wherein we have to tick numbered boxes to express our likes and dislikes, aspirations and assertions, compliances and rejections and sometimes detestations and dejections. Feelings are now being quantified whereas at one point of time I was taught that they are immeasurable.

During surveys, our experiences are required to be rated on a scale of 1 to 5 or 1 to 10 -  highest the number maximum is the satisfaction quotient. 

However, strangely, lesser the number in the ranking scale the greater is the extent of corruption in a country. 

At the fag end of life, I realise the anomalies of number. 

My days on earth are numbered , I know.  

I may finish the race within the count. 

I may lose it before.

Or, by a weird stroke of (ill)luck, I may outnumber the years allotted to me.

It's not in my hand.

But one thing that I fervently wish for is not to lose the count of time.

Shared with Poets And Storytellers United

Light And Dark

This week in Poets And Storytellers United, Magaly invites us to write poetry on perspective.

My response to the prompt:

I hold a lantern

Into the night

"Oh! There's light"

I smile 

But after a while

The moon seems

So distant...the stars

Way farther from sight

I agonise over day light 

Irreverent to dreams

Yet

Sometimes

The night embalms

The wounds 

That have slithered

Unto time unknown

I oscillate 

Between darkness

And light

Days and nights

Folding my self

Into a foetus of 

Knowing...not knowing 

The umbilical cord

It seems

Has still not been

Severed

From the closet of

The womb

To a Universe

Of (im) possibilities 

Shared with Poets And Storytellers United

Change

This week in Poets And Storytellers United Rosemary wants us to tell about change, whatever it calls to mind. 

My response:

I change

With the seasons

I change

With the winds

I change

With the colours

The flowers bring

I change 

With the clouds 

Travelling afar

I change

With the songs

The birds sing

I change

With the currents

Of the rivers' flow

I change

With the night

As the days go

I change

As change 

Is the only theme

That outlives 

My every dream

Shared with Poets And Storytellers United

Inspiration

This week's prompt is to write prose or poetry on any of the erstwhile prompts date to be mentioned.

I came across this interesting one "teeth, hammer, and blooms" posted by Rommy on 19th of June 2026.

What do you do 

When nothing inspires 

You to word a poem?

You clench your teeth

Hammer your brain

And voila !!

There blooms a poem ???

An easy recipe for

That mind block 

Do you think ?

Not really...I am sure

Because when your

Mind is blocked 

It's blocked forever

And ever...

Not even force

Not even  cajolery 

Not even the immortal

Lines of a classic 

Can induce you to

Write till that 

Sudden burst of

Inspiration alights

From within

The image is AI generated.

Shared with Poets And Storytellers United

My Garden

This week Magaly invites us to find inspiration in one (or all) of the following quotes, by Margaret Atwood, May Sarton, and Rudyard Kipling, respectively: 

1. “Gardening is not a rational act.

2. “A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself.”

3. “Gardens are not made by singing ‘Oh, how beautiful,’ and sitting in the shade.”

***

As usual my monkey mind jumps from one quote to the other. Undecided, I present a few haiku leaving it to the readers to discern which quote they suit best.

lilies

the gardener says

it's the end of season 

**

summer storm

at the end of the day

just a leaf

**

yellowing leaf

how silently can we 

say goodbye

**

roots

have I lost the

trail somewhere?

**

rain droplets

on the jade... perhaps 

an afterthought 

**

the falling 

of a dead leaf

even the breeze 

does not lend it

a cadence

**

deepening dusk

the red hibiscus 

still so red 

Shared with Poets And Storytellers United

The Symbol

This week on Poets And Storytellers United, Rosemary wants us to write a poem inspired by one of the given images. I chose this one :

In our pantheon of Gods and Goddesses 

The owl is the vahana* of Lakshmiji

The Goddess of wealth and prosperity 

The owl with its ability to see clearly 

In the dark symbolises clarity of vision

In the face of abject misery and adversities 

It also teaches us to be wise materially

As well as spiritually so that we responsibly

Expend wealth endowed by Lakshmiji

Legend has it that in hearing of the Goddess's

Arrival every bird and beast wanted to be

Her carrier on this earth but it is the owl

By keeping awake at night was the first to Land at her feet to carry her on its back

(*Vahana means Carrier)

Shared with Poets And Storytellers United

A Lot To Ask

When do I know 

It's time to go

Should I let the 

Clock to show

Or be myself 

The hands 

And toes

That goes

Tick tock

Inside the clock 

Defining time

Old age and prime 

Let me know

Should it be so ?

Youth's hurry 

Or age's clumsy 

Rhythm and rhyme

Or is it better 

To know not either 

Let the river flow

Just like so...

If you ask me 

Honestly

I wish to go

Without ado 

Without an ask 

Or a look back

Nor any quest 

Too big to know

Let not the clock

Sing tick tock

Let not it show

When to bow 

Out of dreams

Bursting the seams

If you ask me

Honestly 

I really don't 

Want to know

Shared with Poets And Storytellers United