Showing posts with label Thursday photo prompt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thursday photo prompt. Show all posts

Thursday, 7 September 2017

constant change

          Thursday photo prompt – Fading #writephoto


                             


Calm waters of azure ocean
tsunami with violent emotion.

every lash of the salty water
hard rocks erode with lather.

Dawn slowly embraces the gloaming
migrant wings return to nest, roaming.

branches shed green coat, hook
to don a bare naked look.

fluffy clouds change shape
from lion to ape , just gape.

your tenderness fills my heart
aches for the time apart.

fleeting glance of your sunshine
disappear, bleak days mine.

there is change of seasons
for whatever reasons.

ebb the tide of longing
expose the gap yawning.

'eternal' loves fades
to stain the weakest shades.

thawing of passion 
intimacy goes into hibernation.

Change is constant
at pace slow,never instant.


           Written for : Thursday Photo Prompt-Fading. Thanks Sue Vincent


                                          #writephoto

Thursday, 24 August 2017

Faith unblemished.

         Thursday photo prompt – Cracked #writephoto



seeds of expectation sowed.

from the clouds nothingless flowed

into the barren field of farmer's mind.

sun set on horizon behind.

Natures oft amazes,

heavenly eyes gazes.

Green shrubs thrust out

from parched chasms, hope sprout.

egg-shell , dried foliage into manure,

from dust to dust for sure. 


              


recalcitrant clouds black bless,

ground adorns green dress.

Gratitude germinate,

earthlings cultivate,

harvest and prosperity, 

spreads fragrance of  humanity.

fires of hunger extinguished.

faith unblemished.



                    Written for :  Thursday Photo Prompt-Cracked # writephoto



                                                 #writephoto




                 Also linking to  : Poets-United-Midweek-Motif-nature.




Friday, 4 August 2017

unwelcome

Thursday photo prompt – Watchers #writephoto









The howling winds screech dirges around the edifice of grey rocks. Rain lashes at the 

pallor with drops running down as fusillade of tears. All the vestiges of the the former 

days of glory are eroded and only the skeletal remains put up a show of weak decay. 

The destruction is almost complete but the rocks seem to echo a different tale. Are they 

holding fort  expecting a footfall or of a promise to be kept? Do the walls have a choice 

to stand erect or bury themselves in the wild growth? The questions are numerous and 

the answers are few nay none.

Some intrepid soles come searching for thrill or for a slice of bygone history. their eyes 

admire the behemoth structure and label them as strong garrison withstanding the 

vagaries of the weather and climate changes. Esoteric minds came hunting for a pie of 

regalia to return with no signs of it. Urban adventurers brave the hurdles to return with 

photographs of themselves smiling against the backdrop of ancient fort walls to adorn 

their Facebook profiles or bolster their Instagram followers. The unwanted visitors 

pierce the crumbling hearts of the ancient rocks. 

Whom do the weary rocks keep a vigil? Or are they watched by the time and Karma?



          written for : Thursday Photo Prompt. Thank you Sue Vincent.


                                       #writephoto

Saturday, 22 July 2017

Rani Padmavati

           Thursday photo prompt – Mask #writephoto






            


Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder as the oft quoted proverb goes. Her beauty 

enraptured and captured the eyes of the royals who beheld her.
 

King Ratan Sen and his royal bride were basking in their marital bliss much to the chagrin 

of Queen Nagmati , his first wife. But there were external enemies other than searing 

jealousy who invaded the kingdom and their new-found love.


Allaudin Khilji 's eyes burnt with lust as he heard about her beauty. The self-repecting 

Rajput Queen refused to give him an audience . With treachery and deceit he managed 

to catch her glimpse in the mirror. Her reflection strengthened his resolve to  possess her.

King Ratan Sen was killed in a duel by another neighboring King.


Allaudin Khilji with his retinue of followers and armed forces besieged the Chittor Fort in 

a bid to win her.

Alladin Khiliji managed to invade the Chittor fort only to be welcomed by raging tongues 

of fire and the acrid smell of burning flesh. The cries of women deafened his senses.

The beautiful Queen for whom her beauty had become a curse had committed 'Sati'.

                    She was Rani Padamavati of Chittor Kingdom.



             written for  : Thursday Photo Prompt -#Mask writephoto.Thank you Sue Vincent.


                                                       #writephoto



Click HERE to read more about Rani Padmavati.

Rani means Queen in Indian language.

The Kings had many wives and polygamy was practised.

Sati - an Indian practise where the widow sat on her husband's pyre or burnt herself to death to avoid falling into enemy hands . The Queens or members of the female members of royal family preferred death to dishonor and disgrace.

Monday, 3 July 2017

flight of questions.




I clutch the handrails of my balcony, My palm feels cold . The air is ready to drape a 

pashmina shawl.Involuntarily my palm encircles the  body of the porcelain mug warming 

the stiff fingers.The coffee caresses my tongue to slide down my throat . The warmth 

rises soothing my senses. My attention is drawn to the cobbled path below.


An automatic wheelchair slowly makes its way to the bakery. A lady 's stilettos hit the 

hard ground her hands pushing the pram with the cherubic infant sleeping blissfully.

This is the irony of life, I concluded. A pram and a wheel-chair signifying the beginning 

and near-end of life. Has anyone understood the intricacies of life? My ear aches for an 

answer.


 My gaze wanders up.The blue and golden colors intermingle spreading a serene aura in 

the sky. Is it the beginning of the day or the end of night? My mind searches for an 

answer. 


The winged couple tangos in the air hovering close to the metal antenna. Are they on the 

same wavelength? I have no answer.


My feet turn inside the studio apartment.


                             Written for Sue Vincent's Thursday Photo Prompt






Thursday, 22 June 2017

Tunnel of Hope


Man caught in the light at the end of the tunnel





The dense forests seem to limit their boundaries abruptly and refused to inch further. A perennial

waterfall cascaded in slow motion. Her hand felt ice-cold at the spray of waterdrops. Her body

shivered. Nikhil handing a warm shrug to her, cautioned ,“ it will be cool and moist inside”.

“ He knows this place so well”,  she said to no-one in particular.

They entered the rough stony entrance hand-in-hand.


Nikhil sprung surprises and kept her adrenaline juices flowing. She had always reciprocated his

antics with open arms and whispered romantic words in his ears. This was her third surprise in the

last month and the thrill increased with each frequency.

She had worn rubber gumboots on his insistence. The pink and blue flip-flops was her choice but

Nikhil had struck it down. Her feet felt water running and the gentle roar of the waterfall seemed

fainter. She had no idea how long they had walked into the tunnel. She forcibly blinked her eyes to

avoid the blackness getting into her. The slight palpitations worried her. Her thighs ached at the force

of the water dragging her. Claustrophobia surrounded her. She had never been greeted by fear.

Involuntarily, she rubbed her palms and found solace in the friction and cupped her chin. The  rising

warmth renewed her energy.

“Nikhhhhhhhil” , she yelled loudly extending the last part of his name with urgency.

“Where is he?”, was the obvious question to his sudden absence.

Had he slipped and fallen down? Nay. She would have felt his grip slip away.

Should she turn around to go towards the entrance of the tunnel? She had travelled that dark path.

She remembered her Appa’s words. The erudite astrologer could never go wrong. People from

distant lands flocked for his advice. And his own daughter refused to believe his prognosis.

“Nikhil will lead you into the dark dungeon with no light at the end.”

How prophetic were Appa’s utterances. But she had refused to hear them let alone believe the

wisdom of the prophecy.

She dragged herself deeper into the tunnel. There was nothing but more darkness welcoming her.

She could feel her eyes swell into tears.

Appa had asked her to look beneath the veneer of his suave  and polished personality. She had

dived deep into the pool of his heart and was bathed in his courting finesse.

“His planetary alignments spell doom to you”, pleaded and thundered Appa in the same breath.

Helpless and lonely in the abyss, each word of her father resonated and drilled sense in the

labyrinthine maze of her grey cells.

“He will desert you”, concluded Appa and they had tied the knot without the blessings of the senior

citizen.

She had never felt so lonely even when her mother had succumbed to the dreaded disease. The

feeling of being lost and betrayal exacerbated and she wondered how she would face Appa.

She took a deep breath and inhaled the musty air. There should be light at the end of the tunnel , the

adventurer in her consoled herself.  

Her cloudy dark pupils saw creepers hanging down. Lo behold the tunnel had ended .


She dragged her weary feet to the incoming diffused light.

With yellow tulips in his hand, he smiled and spread his arms at her.

She was a bag of mixed emotions. The 'dark' thoughts which she had harbored sometime ago

vaporized.  

"No more surprises ", she begged and  she filled herself in his masculine embrace.

She looked up . The Sun was shinning brightly. The stars were asleep .The planetary 

configurations are far away. What mattered was Nikhil . 

                She would work to build a bridge between Appa and Nikhil.



           written for Sue Vincent's Thursday Photo Prompt

                                                        #writephoto


Appa means father in Kannada( an Indian language).