shaken awake

this wet June morning

rudely shaken awake on bed

on lips, Guru’s mantras

mind in fear of the earth’s trap

trembling hands pulling up pants

outside - unusual

empty of people and dogs

parked cars - calm, still

my fear gradually settling

wondered what news on tv

for a moment

no news – uneasy feeling

we waited, staring

at the screen, news channel on

seemed like a pretty long wait

and then “earthquake”

“in Assam,” India News said

our minds travelled

wondering about the east

yes tremors felt, no damage

a gallery of photographs

another Haibun attempt...

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I am at a gallery of photographs…of events. I quickly notice two broad categories. One has everything in order, can’t make out if people are happy or not, enjoying or not. The other is chaotic, full of laughter, people appear to be having fun.

I imagine randomly selected photographs displayed on tables in a classroom. I wonder if they’d work as stimuli for discussion among students. Would it inspire learning? Would teaching sparkle? 

a gallery walk

stories looming large, flowing deep

my mind travels

so she took a ride

She lived in a concrete jungle –

a mundane life

duty bound

devoid of passion.

She was bored

cold

stiff

as if her soul had been sucked out of her.

From her bedroom window,

she would often stare

at the mountain tops;

they seemed to beckon to her.

She heard the whistling winds

whisper messages into her ear;

and when the sky was a clean blue canvas,

she read notes being painted on it.

They were invitations!

Those were the moments she cherished -

her boredom forgotten

un-cold-ed

un-stiff-ed

her soul back in safe haven.

Words came easy -

flowing gently on paper;

her mind singing,

her soul dancing.

And then she’d be engulfed

by the concrete jungle;

her cherished moment frozen.

Change was just an oscillation

between these moments;

and liberation

a mirage in the desert.

So, she took a ride -

the winding roads

forested roadsides

scarce settlements

all feeding her soul.

It was the beginning of her journey to liberation.

She takes a blade

I attempted this Haibun (combination of two poems - a prose poem and haiku, popularized by the 17th century Japanese poet Matsuo Basho) not long ago after watching the movie 'Hemlock Society.'

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She takes a blade. Her hands shake, as she sobbingly holds it above her wrist. Her hair, her clothes, are all wet from standing under the shower. Her tears flow in unison with the water, unabated. She is heartbroken! Her man has been caught kissing another girl.

The blade failing its business, she curls up in bed. Her sobs won't stop. She feels hurt. She feels anger. She hears screams inside her head.

Restless, she stands on her bed, shirking off her feelings in ugly vigorous gestures. Off her bed, she throws every object in sight, her screams muffled. What else can she do?

Dying is her only option at this moment of despair. The blade fails her, so she schemes another way of ending her deeply felt unbearable sorrow. Next moment, she is at the door of her father’s place, ringing the doorbell anxiously.

 

the moon half smiles – at

a distance, a shadow-dance

her heartbeat racing