A bottled dilemma

A bottled dilemma

Emotions filled in a bottle
Shutted the lid tight
So tight that even I cannot open it.
In a fix now, what is better?
To break the bottle
Or wait for the storm to calm down
But letting it calm also means letting it go
And that also means hurt and scars to self
Scars that may leave some marks behind
Or may not
Hurt won't be forgotten for sure
Even if the name of that hurt fades out the feeling will remain.
So what do I do of this fuming molten lava bottle
Am clutching it so tight
For the fear that it will fall
But what if I suffocate the bottle and it bursts the whole lot out!

Of purple skies and orange flamingos

Of purple skies and orange flamingos

The sky is blue,

the earth so brown

White are the clouds 

or a black or a grey sometimes too.

The grass is green or not so green

and milky white would be the vanilla ice cream.

Now if we paint every little thing

the way as they are seen,

they might look nice

and also oh so real.

But, and just one big but,

where would the imagination be?

The flights of fancy that my mind would take,

the plunge in the depths of oceans it would make,

the swim in the ether of the outer spaces,

and the crawl in the muddy depths of earth,

all of this;

and out comes my mind with a different place.

Where a leaf could be as blue as it can be,

and the clouds take on a fiery red;

pink are the waters that fall from a height

giving the white rocks a pinky shine.

My mind could be made of

purple skies and orange flamingos

and what a world that would make on a paper

each one different than the other

making me go on one hell of a roller coaster

the ride that would be fun,

that would be a different,

every single turn of the paper.

Wise words

Wise words, I live by,
I swear by.
Some are mine,
some borrowed.
But am sure none of them would bring you sorrow.

• Do shit in life, but make sure its epic.

• This too shall pass.

• You cannot save people, you can only love them - Anais Nine

• The only sin is mediocrity.

• A wise man once said nothing.

• What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.

• Stay a yard's distance away from a fool, always.

• A fool is a fool is a fool.

• Little by little one travels far.

• Strong women - may we know them, may we raise them, may we be them.

• Be your own sunshine.

Her inspired painting!!!

While I had a different plan for her,
"Painting" she insisted,
And so be it.
So out came the brushes and acrylic paints,
we chose the colours - two types of green, a yellow and a pink.
"A big paper" she said, "and a bowl of water".
So she placed it all on the table
and sat there to check what she was able.
All along my plan too was getting in action.
"Action" I said,
And the screen came alive with colourful characters from 'Trolls'.
They sang, they danced, they hugged and did all that they were to.
I watched them and I watched her
And I saw that, she watched as she painted,
She went on about her painting,
with the brushes and her little fingers,
and when she thought it wasn't messy enough,
she spilled some colours with a huff.
And when the bottoms of the bottles were seen,
only then she stopped being keen.
One look at her was all it took to make my heart skip a beat,
as she took great pleasure in painting herself as a treat.
so the messy girl danced as the end credits rolled,
and then danced some more in the bath tub with water-not-so-cold.
I scrubbed her clean and patted her dry
and then I kept admiring her painting with a happy sigh.

A basil pesto Sandwich - a mouth watering poem!

The summer hits,
and my appetite dips.
I want the rotis to vanish;
so that when I am famished,
I can gorge on clear soups
and juicy fruits,
the waters from the coconuts,
and also some dates and nuts.
And cooked are some fresh yummy recipes
in my cool cucumber head.
One of them found a way here
as it joined the favourites list,
so here it is -
the fresher than fresh
a basil pesto sandwich recipe!
So the things we need
are from the local markets,
and some from super markets.
The list goes such -
Some freshly baked multigrain bread
with lots of seeds thrown in
for a crunchy nutty flavour.
Some real nice organic basil pesto
(the one you can make at home too)
to slather on the hot grilled bread
with lots of olive oil too.
Some fresh crisp iceberg lettuce
and lots of tiny tomatoes
to make a layer or two.
Top on it some freshly made crumbly paneer
And if you don't mind some cheese,
you can grate that too.
Now sprinkle some pepper
And some dry herbs too
Cover with a slice of a warm grilled bread
Drizzle some olive oil for the final finish.
And as soon as you are done with this
Just dig in your teeth as deep as they go.
Enjoy the flavours of the oozing goodness
as they hit you one by one
and very soon they all become one wholesome healthy flavour
A flavour that I still savour!!!

The unsettling mind...

The things I think in my head all day,
can't make it here even as I try all day.
The thoughts and the ideas and the dreams that come,
come with a slippery slimy mood of their own.
I would think of a thyme that I would sow,
and out of a thyme a gulmohar would grow
the red flaming flowers would dance around my head
bringing back all the memories I have had
Of eyeing the streets lined with them,
And climbing the cars to pluck them out
And i realise what i plucked out was a big toe nail
as I cry and wince in pain and pain
And just as the tear trickles down the cheek
I shudder with a thought of a possibility so meek
of a toe nail that decides not to grow back making me weak
Can, How, Will, What - my mind struggles
And I drift away to making my own magic potion -
A Nail Regrower, ha ha ha!
I bask in the fame and success that follows
of the dames and damsels in distress being rescued
By the secret recipe of a secret potion
of the shiny and happy nails that follow.
And just as suddenly my mind goes back to thyme
And this time out of thyme, a lime tree follows.

The soul that's me...

Feeling high, feeling low,
Feeling inspired, feeling slow,
A minute I am all energetic,
Wanting to plunge, wanting to jump.
And another minute arrives,
I want to slump, sleep and drag myself to dump.
Is it normal, is it not - I don't know the answers to all this thoughts
Am just trying to sort out the mess that I am, every minute, each day at a time
And just when I feel I have figured out it all
That another minute stands right at my door.

I want

I want to be a stress free mom
Rather a stress free person.
I want to do what I want to do and not dictate others in the same manner.
Also,
I want her to be a free child,
Who follows her heart and mind,
And the one who follows her fantasies and dreams.

And if I behave in a manner I do right now, it is not going to happen.
I should only ask for that time, the time that is sane
When all I want to do is to love her and laugh with her, and whatever.
But not at all scream her.

The feeling...

I am feeling a feeling, that is so dry
Not drenched in love, neither in friendships,
nor any other mandatory ones where blood relations are involved.
My feeling dry is not totally a fiction,
It's not my imagination.
It's really a feeling,
A feeling which is deep yet makes me feel hollow,
Brings pain in my heart;
And a stern blank face follows,
Which does not let the feeling trickle out
No one sees it
And a secret remains deep deep in me
Exactly where I feel being dry.