Joy Haiku

curtains put aside

the conscious stirs to wake up

joyous morning rays

~

touch of joy on skin

walking along aimlessly

rhythm of foot steps

* For Carpe Diem # 240.

* The first Right2Write Prompt is open for submissions. Do participate..

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Aki Chikashi (Autumn Near) Haiku

silent noise around

a lonely stroll down the street

finding my way back

~

looking at the sky

warm sun caressing the cheeks

lips begin to hum

* Written in response of Carpe Diem # 234. I know these haiku do not particularly match today’s theme. But it resonates with what nearing autumn means to me. The end of summer for me is the time when I can go for a stroll around in the city; being solitary even when I am am surrounded by a crowd. Autumn here is quite different; the trees do not shed leaves this time of the year. It is not so beautiful but it is beautiful, for it also marks the arrival of the major festivities. I now remember the autumn of the last year- it was peaceful, and it was a respite from the difficult time. I smiled, I talked to people- there was an unflinching voice within me reminding me of what I have been through and cautioning of what would happen in the future, but still I found some really good moments. Today at this stage I long for them, like when I was at that stage, I longed for a further gone away past. I have never been able to understand my longings for something which has gone or for something which resides in my fantasies. But it is so and I live with it everyday.

Painting: A 100 Word Story

“Attention!”

Bright sunlight pierced his eyes as he stepped into the fine painting and heard a loud baritone, “Attention!”

He looked around to find out the place of origin of the deep voice. But there was nobody around nearby, except for a guard standing alert with a rifle facing upwards, held in his palms; his face impassive, devoid of any emotions and his dark eyes sparkling.

There were people at a distance but he was sure nobody could see him and the still life beside him.

“What are you looking at?” spoke someone from behind.

He returned back to the reality.

copyright –Managua Gunn

*Written in response of the Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt.

Takenoko/Bamboo Shoots Haiku

going up and up

reaching for eternity

rigid, tall and straight

.

evergreen bamboo

shoots cut down and thinly sliced

boiled, to feast upon

.

survival circles

displayed around the body

every few inches

.

ward off the evil

takenoko surrounding

lonely Shinto shrine

.

wet and slippery

showered in the morning rain

a bamboo-poet writes

.

a childish cutter

gash shining stalk of bamboo

emerge moon goddess

.

shedding those gold tears

watching in pain, her moon world

born from bamboo stalk

* Written for Carpe Diem # 217 Takenoko/Bamboo Shoots

* The last two haiku are derived from a Japanese folktale; The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. I came to know about it in a Japanese cartoon show once.

Sylvia Plath- her voice still echoes around…

Here is my tribute to Sylvia Plath; a villanelle-

her voice still echoes around

the lone bird, lost in the mirrors of time

faded, yet there with a fluttering sound

 

hear, take it in, let it be found

moaning in pain, narrating the crime

her voice still echoes around

 

her body decaying in the burial ground

she is gone, leaving behind her life’s dime

faded, yet there with a fluttering sound

 

the years she spent but being bound

a prisoner to her own mind’s rime

her voice still echoes around

 

leaving nothing behind her, no expound

just her work, her prayers, so sublime

faded, yet there with a fluttering sound

 

oh Sylvia Plath, you are indeed crowned

the queen, amid the humanity’s grime 

your voice still echoes around

faded, yet there with a fluttering sound 

Red Lust

Collision of the bodies

intermingling sweat

the passionate hug

the seductive kiss

 

moan emerges like hiss

euphoria of the best drug

the fingers finally met

come true the auguries

 

the lust overcomes all

echoes around, a silent bawl.

 

P.s.- Written in the same rhyming scheme, as the Violet Juice. I haven’t given a name to this form of poetry… I am still open to suggestions.

The Maze of my Desires

The maze of my desires, 

All of a sudden fizzles with fires.

I don’t know why,

I smile in such a condition so wry.

Its not terrible for me,

Let the situation be,

Prevailing around,

To which I’m now bound.

The maze of my desires,

Is tangled like the many wires,

Sparking electric current at times,

And that is all I can write with my useless rhymes.