Yarn of Life

Yarn (copyright- me)

Yarn (copyright- me)

yarn of life,

she weaves through her old frail hands,

one day be made into a cardigan

or may be a woolen cap of a young boy’s wonder,

she remains behind the scene,

yarn slipping through her hands,

silky-smooth threads,

.

she is happiness,

she is love,

she is struggle,

she is survival,

she is the artisan,

she sits in a reverie,

her eyes focused,

as she sutures the yarn of life,

in her old frail hands.

.

*For Right2Write Prompt. Just click on the name and that will take you to the prompt theme of the week.

Affection Haiku

kiss of the sunlight

the rose bushes turn scarlet

nature’s affection

~

nature’s affection

birds lunging to horizon

gentle blowing wind

~

And inspired from Kristjaan’s love haiku,

shadows of the night

hands held under the black cloak

hiding affection

~

a love is lovely

let it fly high with free wings

accept affection

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courtesy of google images

* Written in response of Carpe Diem # 238.

Green Paddy (Aota) Haiku

the green lines swaying

sweet gentle  hands caressing

prospering paddy

*After being on a vacation, it seems I have to get into the flow of writing haiku once again. I hope you all would bear with me and support me in my haiku writing endeavor. This is written in response of the Carpe Diem # 228.

Baby Piano: A 100 Word Story

“I can’t forget how we grew up together and then got separated. And today, it is a coincidence that we could meet.”

“It is indeed.” He gave her a brilliant smile.

“You still smile the same,” she shyly commented.

“And you are still the same.”

They shared a quick kiss which was delayed for years.

“And you remember when you visited me at 1 in the night and tried to hide inside my baby piano when my parents came up hearing your loud voice?”

“Yes. And I remember why I visited you.”

They held hands, past memories flooding their minds.

Copyright- John Nixon

* Written in response of the Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt.

you dream away, status

you dream away

to a distant land,

shimmering

with a glow

unearthly,

never seen before,

 .

you go prancing around-

letting your feet drown

in the desert sand,

raising your hands

letting them clutch air

and feel its feel

in the end,

 .

sit under a silver tree

crimson fruits hanging,

curb yourself

from sinking your teeth into

the luscious

spheres of poison,

 .

let your skin

absorb the bright

sunbeams,

let it burn

and sigh in relief,

 .

feel the jets of water,

on your palms,

spewing forth from

an unknown source

and grab the golden goblet

out of thin air

and have some water,

end up spilling

some of it

on your cheeks,

 .

hearing the thundering steps

of the giant

still yards away,

yet to arrive,

you do not go hide,

but run around

in no direction,

tired out,

sitting down

on a picnic bench

waiting,

 .

let yourself be grabbed

in those massive hands,

producing

an inaudible sound;

 .

the next moment

that comes to you,

you find yourself

waking up,

finding yourself

in the park,

lying under the ordinary

red maple,

rain droplets falling

over you in a certain rhythm,

a book resting

on your chest,

turned to the last page

now getting soaked;

 .

status:

you are done reading.

 

* Written in response to Wordle 112