One Life To Live

Tuesday, June 23, 2026

The Nail paint Shelf

Mealprep for the week to be

In neatly labelled boxes and jars

Homemade sauces and ketchups

Curated for personal taste and tantrums

Couple tubs and ice trays of silly projects

Benevolently called icecreams and lollies

And many other things in the limited shelves

We never bothered to notice, or remember

In that small fridge from my childhood home

Was everything a world could hold

And still a place was assigned with care

For the dozen bottles of my frivolous nail polish

Time jogged and ran as fast as it could

And now there is a fridge that I call just my own

It houses icecreams with fancy names and tubs

And exotic sauces whose ingredients are, on me, lost

Mealprep remembers, follows tradition in the shelves

But they miss the variety, care, and some Love

Fruits never reach the baskets or bags

And veggies stare with anxiety at the food tags

An old forgotten cake calls in silent sobs during midnight

But during breakfast sits on my plate as a treat

The fridge is bigger than what it was

But it never kept a space for my nail polish

Not anymore, there never really was

That shelf is still there, filled with condiment sachets

And some redundant dreams that await

A weekend recipe that's never seen the light

Or a place on the stove or on a plate

I still have dozens of nail polish bottles

That never expect a zone of their own

The fridge is bigger in space... sure

But it has lost a s(h)elf in a land of its own

/ 33

: 263

Sunday, June 21, 2026

Inhaling Wild

I smell whimsies on crysanthemums,

The essence of unbothered beings

On the faint veins of white waxy petals,

Of a flower who never shares its name

And gets called wildflower instead.

They don't know its name

for they never asked,

clueless of their own game.

It has no traits of affinity of being wild,

Nor a care or obligation,

To fulfill a fate

It never wrote on its own.

It stays on a path or a field,

Or blooms out of crevices on concrete

To inhale the breeze as it deems fit.

Or seep in the sun, moon, rain, and dew

Through its skin, sans a manual or a cue.

It doesn't wish to fight the heat,

Or resent the blue of cold,

To shout resilience or power

To the wind, to be viewed as bold.

It doesn't boost fragranced spells

For the butterfly,

Or spiffy nectar for the bee.

A dream of wilderness,

Or a chance out of ashes

Not on its bucket, just spritz of glee.

And yet, it gets called wildflower

Instead of a name it never spelled out loud,

In the woods of blazed voices.

The act of not being an ounce of wild,

In a clearing where grasses too are not mild,

With an ecstatic need of being different,

Is but the sharpest tone of wild,

Nonconformance beguiled.

An arena of gladiator fights,

Reflectors and ring lights,

Brown iris and blue lens,

Oppose the wind,

For it does not make sense,

A guide to stand out, albeit dense.

But a glide through breezy bridge

To live and exist, and love with ease;

Colors are beautiful but never prioritized.

Stroll in shadows through summers

And pages of parchment through ink alchemized.

Wild but not... Not but wild.

/ 47

: 291

Tuesday, June 16, 2026

Close

Can Time quicken its steps, please?

Let this day be over before long?

I would sleep it off

But Sleep is not too kind either.

I would close the eyelids

But the flooded eyes would not let them shut

Can Time hasten on this one, please?

Can it run a little faster?

Let this day close its doors for good.

/ 9

: 60

Sunday, June 14, 2026

Light's Views

Flick a switch, but which one

There's light in darkness too

Glide on... to ask the sun's view

Burn a filament, burn a charge

One must endure an endeavor

Like stars burn hydrogen, at large

But light is not all it takes

There is more at the stakes

Reflect it must, to brighten up the day

A soul, a heart, or rows of corner hay.

Sans a core, light is eaten

Heard of black holes?

The fields are not smitten.

Bend it can, where gravity stays strong

Drifts off with non-chalance, (harsh!)

If matters of conscience are sparse

Enrich and nurture, lives and forms, it can

Cosmic lengths and quantum realms, it does span

A beacon, a twinkle, or a beam; be brave

For Light is both... a particle, and a wave.

/ 20

: 132

#Light

Eluded

Sleep eluded her as the night turned,

And took off to places beyond maps,

That promised no retakes, no returns.

A voyage a soul couldn't fathom,

Sleep whelmed her in every form.

Often unattainable, an allusion till now,

The eyes must take an eternal vow.

Minted through depths of unclear pathways,

Senses parked still but flew through space,

Sleep held her tough; she kept her grace.

/ 10

: 66

#whelm

Searching for the Dark

Inky blue blanket sprinkled in a pearly farm

The fiery balls masked with lily's calming charm

The snapshots from yesteryears are beyond the hum

Now riddled with electricity, powered conundrum

Cassiopeia and Pegasus, perhaps on a journey far off

Scorpius wandered around, went home, and let it drop

The Polaris, the guide of all, still must be there

But with neon blunders, they are found nowhere.

The lamps and lights, turn off the grid

Let them vanish, adieu I must bid

Let the daisies rule

Wishing upon Andromeda again, that would be cool.

/ 12

: 93

sky at night, but not the moon

Awaiting The Falcon

Chewbacca with sad orby eyes,

Abandoned and Aidless,

In human parking site,

That was a heart rending plight.

Was it calling out for the Millennium Falcon?

But Han Solo is long gone...

Rey might be around to feel the force;

She might come searching, steering the course.

Or do I intervene and let my car be a starship ?

Momentary maybe, but it would be wondrous, a cosmos trip.

But the tailback traffic won't be one with the force,

Maybe if we jumped to hyperspace, then of course.

But I am no Jedi, not with force too,

Stay strong Chewbacca, May the force be with you!

/ 14

: 105

June Treats

June adorned in summer till brim,

Untamed sunflower shadows dance on whim.

Nimble zephyr relish luscious fruits sweet,

Enamored in golden flowers' nectarous treat.

/ 4

: 24

Six words atleast

Bound of the Boundless

Perhaps, to whisper a clingy tale,

The silver‐grey cloud loomed closer.

There are forces imminent,

It heeds none... until,

It blocks the blooming sun.

Crepuscular rays play their part;

They peek with a hint and impart :

'O cloud, let it be known

You have descended much, beyond too close.

The sky is anxious; now, enough commotion!'

The stones and rocks gravel, awestruck;

They murmur and whisper

To let the river know.

The river ripples,

Though calm, composed, being at fore.

The cloud takes a step back

Stunned, it blushes blue

Offers a consoling hand

And tells its part, devastatingly true.

'Land and river, the line I have known,

Never has been and never will be blown.

The thirst of summer and ancient tales,

Tagged me along, by the blue-hearted trails

For a scent of earth water,

And the steely charm of the gentle river

From skies far off, I have trudged to hither

I shall recede, slowly and with steady steps,

That was enough, the delightful water scent.

In a moment of moments that has been

For another eternity, maybe until then.'

The cloud turned,

The twilight burned,

And for the greater good,

Simple peace stood.

/ 34

: 196

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