once they begin coming out
it’s a wonder they ever stop;
memory tested to hurt best
and verbal prowess for effect
expansion of horizons happen
parents,relatives – all pulled in
the slandering goes on,non stop
the hurt mounts on,and so on
if silence follows,tears fill in the gap
broken bonds lie in sorrow’s lap –
Forgotten for a moment,
bruised for a lifetime.
Prompted @ NaPoWriMo [ Day 13 – A fast (5 min) poem on something very fast]
I throw some,you some,
We all make a lot of it,
What we always forget is,
for all the collective waste
When nature reciprocates
Its a lot of loss and pain.
If I have to live guilt-free
I better not make more waste.
rather look for options to save.
Prompted @ NaPoWriMo #9 [Reverse poetry ], OSI [ Reciprocates ] , Poetry Potluck.
What kind of friendship is that ?
I know you would ask
and that’s probably
the reason, of Das* dada* i don’t talk.
food lovers, tale tellers,
crossing days of school
like a game of bingo,
sharing bitter fear
and strawberry dreams,
hours we would pass
the phone bills ran high
in few initial years
once he even came home
with gifts so much dear
and then he vanished one day
where , why , no one could say.
I am prone to losing friends though
I miss him still curse him lot,
think of him, any free time i got.
he was precious,always will be so.
Submitted to One Shot Wednesday
Prompted @ NaPoWriMo day#7 . It asks you to write a poem with seven different phrases, ideas, or just plain old “things” in it. These are:
1) an example of synasthetic metaphor — one that describes one sensory perception using adjectives more naturally suited to a different sense (e.g., “a red noise,” or a “a bitter touch”)
2) a fruit
3) the name (first or last) of someone you knew in school
4) a rhetorical question
5) a direct address to the poem’s audience — “Reader” or “mom” or “Michelle,” or maybe just “You”)
6) a word in a foreign language
7) a reference to a game of chance (darts or pool or the lottery or etc).
*Das = Last name of my friend
Dada = elder brother in bengali language
I am sorry about being sorry
of being forgiven when not asked;
of the depressing gift of the mask
that I wore to hide my wealthy shame;
I am sorry about ever worrying
of the melodious lies you told
of the sour embrace you’d mould
that gave me forever,this disgraceful fame.
I am sorry indeed !
Prompted @ Big Tent Poetry , NaPoWriMo day#5
Submitted to G-Man’s friday flash55
Oxymorons ideas from here
Circle of my Karma
might have brought us close
and taken apart like rain drops;
was kept warm with memories
and beautiful with your words;
Trapped wings rest now
I see open skies calling me
loved I die,even by you,I beleive.
Prompted @ Magpie Tales , NaPoWriMo [ Day 1 and 2 ]
[In italics are the book names I used for the poem]