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

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Copyright © 2026 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

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. 

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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. 

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Copyright © 2026 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

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.

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#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. 

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#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.

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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!

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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.

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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.

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Dicey Destination

A bus, a flight, a cab, a heli
The route was straight
But such events do not happen daily.

All was planned and locked
Short trip bounded for two days
Until the mind wandered... on a flower's gaze. 

Abandon the bus, but pay the price
Take the fastest plane on earth
And roll the destination dice.

Still a flower in play
But fate had other plans
Maybe a bird chanced a dance.
Flight landed elsewhere
In a valley from otherworld
Stranded in divine nowhere.

A cab ride of half a day
In roads of slippery heaven 
Was there another way? 

Heard of a waterfall, amazing and rare
Paused the cab, heli on cue (a dare?)
Not a seconds thought to spare.

Saw the waterfall, views from nowhere
A trip worth two lifetimes 
Clubbed in transitions, here to there.

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#Journey 

The Day The Sky Broke

An event of a day it was as such
Crossed cities and rivers
From angel hour and beyond dawn
Hasty breakfast, haste shelved on bench
A corner cafe or a brunch spot pop-up,
For a change...

One had work, academic championship to compete
Family in tow, support and holiday retreat 
The day yawned its way to dusk
And back again after a day of silent rush


But then on a bridge across a river
Pitch black sky and warm lit roads
Twinkling headlights 
From arrays of human drawn carriage
Anecdotes about supposed aliens 
We playfully rummage

The lights grew, instant sun in seconds
The day was back...
We muted noises and saw 
Was the light there, brighter than the sun?
Did day break for a minute and then was gone?
Or did aliens heed our voices and stories
And plug a proof-of-life on?


Stunned and shocked and confused and elated 
Words lost coherence, our eyes we doubted 
Still stopped for an evening snack
Sweet treats and desserts, 
This day had a knack.

Slept off, planning dreams of UFOs...
The papers broke the mysticism -
An array of burning asteroids they reported. 
(Albeit massive and rare.)
Bummer! 

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about witnessing something unexpected

Fossilized Slush

Silky black roads drizzled in gloss
A smell of frozen dust, light in toss
Bright and blinding with specks of dirt
Old snow by highway, the tales they blurt

Snoozing seed prays it to move
Let cold begone, get grass its groove
Flakes melt and settle down the tube
Giant snow cone in a messy, tinted cube

Forgotten mittens and blown away scarves
Fossilized in the old snow, freezing air departs
Heater coils jamming up, Sun pleads
Melt away snow of memories, few hues the hour needs

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"old snow"

Frayed and Lost

Slow-brewed mornings
On edge of dawn
Toasted laughters
Walk through tomato patch
Smell of hibiscus, tickling marigold
Pinwheel jasmine
And a sip of chorus from birds
Old soul music that used to be new
Maybe a round of hide-and-seek too. 

An afternoon nap
A scoop and half of melting summer
Stroll the dusty paths  
A distant mountain that was near
The fire in its belly hazily clear
Songs and charades in evenings
Ursa major, Orion, telescope sightings
Homework and stories
A dinner that the soul cherished 

Now the day begins at night
Planned but no plan in sight
Mornings vanish*
Evenings crash 
Afternoon missed for nothing
Lost in paper-cut scars
Night screams and shrieks 
For absent stars
A flower growing... in a field of wars.

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about something that used to be routine, but no longer is.

Stardust: Arrabbiata or Stir-fried?

Oh! The sky's about to fall
On earth or jupiter
Or on a dwarf pluto
Who could tell?

I see streaks of fire
Or are those shattered snow
Or maybe cosmic spaghetti
Whirring from a oily wok?
Was that parmesan though
Or shreds of cabbage
Melting and fusing
In liquid tomatoes of rosy rouge?

Oh! The stars are dropping beyond hills
Or asteroids escaped astray
Or flowers from snowy celestial orbs
Who could throw some light and say?

I see greyish strands of light
Or are those purple ribbons of dusk
Or maybe stir-fried buckwheat noodles
Craving a broth of umami-drenched tofu?
Were those julienned cucumbers
Or generous aroma of chives and egg
Dressed in soy sauce and vinegar
A summer breakfast or winter ample supper ?

Let the sky fall
Let the stars run around
Let the whirlwind scatter stardust
But a serving of noodles first. 
Please. 

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#Noodles 


Skeleton Soldiers

Tarred and marred in glisten and gloom,
Snow footings but dusty, dreary loom.
Dusk tried a bloody disposition...
Bereft of planned rules, a lost situation.

The soldiers stood on, anchored to the spot,
Low on fuel and muscles and blood,
Etched resilience on the frozen mud;
Did they write parchments or simply rot?

Not a sliver or beam to uphold,
A beacon engulfed by treacherous cold.
Still they stood on bones and hope,
On spring keepsakes and summer glory they cope.

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To Whom It May Concern

To whom it may concern
On a puddle infested path...
Who'd bear silver and white,
A trademark at such a sight?

They splatter and muddle
Drops of evil intentions
On pristine fabric... destitute loser!

Don't waste sand or gravel
Nor concrete's brief, prized worth.
Let the dents be lessons
For adjustments and glory of labour.

To whom it may concern
Paving paths of puddles,
Stenched, meek behavior suppressed...
Sshhh... Hide pristine crystals,
Time would do the rest.

Make masks and laugh in tattered cloaks...
Why protect and preserve,
When they can be put to test,
And broil in mud as they deserve?

But don't concern yourself
If I bring my sun or a hair dryer.
Dry out the water from little dents,
Or from this planet's oceans forever. 

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Copyright © 2026 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Title: To Whom it May Concern

Satin Prisms

Glassy orbs on satin pleats
Crystal marvels of clinging beads
Soft sun reflections, golds amassed
Dew-kissed morning blades of grass

How they shine with just a drop of water
Eternity preserved in moments of glitter
Miracle sewn in string-less bonds
Spell of love in dawn held wands

Wondrous and delicate, a joy of forever
Enigma beyond touch, rainbow worthy endeavor
Ephemeral but magnificence at their core
Dew drops hold silken strength, a mystic lore

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about beauty without ever using the word beauty

Divine

A spoonful of heaven and syrup
And a dash of blueberry jam

A spoonful of clouds and jelly
And punch of ice-cream crammed. 

A spoonful of sweet sand and crushed granola
And cubes of strawberry chunks

A spoonful of breezy desire
And dollops of whipped cream dunked

A spoonful of smiles and soul-stirring pine 
And a piece of cheesecake divine

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Copyright © 2026 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Spoons : real or metaphorical 

Resist and Desist

Resist the rainstorms of a sunny day 
Especially the ones 
That beam and dance
To burn years of promises in a glance
And light pyres beneath your earned hay. 

Resist the waves that soar so high
But swiftly recede at once
Uprooting toiled strand of roots
Only to return and wash it all
Footprints, paved paths, and parasols.

Resist the flowers that have no bugs
Especially the ones with a vivid scent
Of sweet scenes and shining grins
No thorns, no guards, no err in view
But housing poison is their soul purview.

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begins with the last word of the last poem written

An Ode to a Peacock Feather

Collected and bought,
You were both :
An apple and an orange -
Wanted and sought.

You came to me
On a pink plummeted noon,
Vibrant and delicate,
Like cheesecake laden spoon.

Tender and soft-faced,
You swayed and blushed,
And smiled at me
As the violent air rushed.

You took me to a time of joy
As a vase I crafted after long
From a stray piece of thread,
Forgotten cardboard, adhesive strong.

You welcome me
With unique hues,
Made me laugh
With odd-world views.

A place for different colors
Must surely exist...
In this world or another,
Even when all resist.

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An Ode

Cosmos in a Satchel

A scented satchel of blooming stars
Sewn with frost-frolicked willow leaves
Stringed with moon-touched nectar
Houses a prairie of green-hued wreaths

The prairie hosts a tea-party of elves
Who dance for fire-flowers and glowworms
Laurels of wisteria stacked in curio cabinets
Giggle and wiggle, making ridiculous forms

The sweet touch of honeydew nights
Inhale and exhale bursts of silly-nilly things
A chip of fun in a shoulder so strong
Embeds impasse-stricken air in glazed dumplings

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At least 5 of the words : Bat, Impasse, Moon, Curio, Dumpling, Willow, Satchel, Sweet, Exhale, Chip.

Gloaming View

Muted in the blue of seas
A gloaming, a sphere of fire
The orange spattered grays
Of the sky's innocent desire.

The star in its gloom and passion
Kisses the dreaded blue of water
A few seconds in store
Or could it be a couple minutes more?

The day awaits on the other side
Let the lullaby be the night's song
A shadow-stained figure witnesses
Stringing trees and plants along.

The sky blinks in shades of ember
The water caresses a day to remember.

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Saturday, June 13, 2026

Lost ? Or Found ?

Uninhabited.
But that was a dream.
Was that a dream?

The sun-scented air
Would have answered the riddle
But that sole dingy yacht has a mouth
And ears that catch things half-baked
That vessel a blabber mouth?

The pearl dust in the crystal sand
Would have drawn a map of secrets
But the sky would peep
Pass on to the clouds
Like warm fudge
On a chilled glass bowl
That sky a tattle master?

The hills did good
But stood disconnected
Across the horizon
They have trees that pray
And see beyond the surface
Of waves and wind
Those hills of any help?

The waters by the white beach
Snoozed a chance in brief
And whistled a couplet deep
Would they ripple my anecdote
If painted in hues of teal?

To be lost yet found
And found, yet lost
A glory worth a re-tell? 

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About Me

My photo
As a blogger, one of the things I am often asked is "How/ When did you get started with all this?" For as long as my memory takes me back, I have always found myself pondering about a plethora of things. I have always loved reflecting on the small but wonderful aspects of life. Ipsita Contemplates has been very special and I love to get the opportunity to share my musings, my thoughts, and my perceptions with you. It is also a way to appreciate the essence of Life!