One Life To Live

Sunday, June 14, 2026

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

/ 12

: 75

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.

/ 14

: 84

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?

/ 30

: 144

Would The Trees Tell?

Did you perhaps hear ?

The murmur a while ago

Of a silkened pair of shoes,

Or the soft tenor voice

That spoke in honeyed frizz,

Or the rustle of a satin scarf

That whispered stories to the leaves?

Or was that tuft of cloud

Adorned with better tales,

Chronicles from beyond

The seas and the skies?

Did you perhaps smell?

The frankincense in a pouch

Of velvet, smooth as breeze,

Or the vanilla-esque skin

Washed in pristine waters with sheen,

Or the ambrosia of that smile

That is hard to miss from across a mile?

Or was that stretch of sky

Jeweled with a more unique fragrance,

Fashioned from icy blues

And spring pastels of berry hues?

Oh trees!

Would you tell me of any path

That they might have walked upon?

They enchantment you hold

Have mesmerized them

From time unknown.

The skies will be there

Though the clouds might morph

Extend a branch of hope

A puzzle or a sign

To find them who adored you like divine.

/ 33

: 170

Jaded Skies of Widu

Walking on fudgy clouds

That knock on my window,

Tin-shelled Finicky, the bug,

Handed me a jar of sand,

And a bag of pearly leaves -

A token from a shop of souvenirs

From the east of third moon...

Moon that houses Widu's tales,

Widu-lings soul-shaped shadows,

And scar of wings of every bug

When they flew in fluids sans soles.

Now they linger and walk

On clouds that ground blades

On beaches of worthless rubies and jade.

Years of six hundred and twenty one days

Across the mounding star of Kaag...

Shorter nights of Widu, the world craves of rays,

Hung in ateliers unworthy of brag.

The Widu of fluid lanes and yellow skies

Still lives, in whimpers of broiling monuments,

Outlived by me and every bug that tries.

/ 21

: 129

set on or about another planet : real or imagined

Inches of Precision

On a charcoal-crusted beaming night,

Drafting peppermint, lunatic wind,

Swaying across timelines and zones,

Breezy branches and parchment rolls,

Spell of spellbound horizon tales,

Cast a space-bound charm. Look yonder!

Winking beings on whimsical missions,

Or whimsy a grained-mask for shushed motions?

Randoms never exist, all's carved, here and there...

Quasar rains, tailed comets, or a cuckoo's song—

Mapped out in inches and degrees, oh precise wonders !

All and every, moments whisper, a charismatic sonder.

/ 12

: 75

"precise wonder"

A Seashell of Memory

Ombré sky fusing into waters

Seeping young light in turquoise quarters

Dancing to foamy wave jazzy tunes

Seashell in sugary sand, heart swoons

New found trinket or decades of story

Hung in my backpack, a charm of glory

In between classes and vacation days

The seashell clunked through glimmering rays

Left the city, enclosed it in a memory box

Found its twin on a week of beach walks

Asked it... if it has ever heard of the moon

One causing tides... or the one I write as runes

It told me stories of years that have been

Of places past belief, and a summer scene

Kept it on desk through virtual meetings

Through zillion sessions and countless seatings

Gifted it to the ocean on a star-marked day

When my feet sauntered on a half-paved way

Days and months cycled off and flew

Finally, on a bench by the pines, found a shell, new.

/ 20

: 153

Three memories associated with a physical object

Friday, June 12, 2026

Eyelashes

Eyelashes speak of aurora sights

Peaking during hours of graceful nights

Aces of sky, flying flower or fire

Eyelashes dance in kohl-ed attire

Teak scents and sapphire jewels whisper

Aye shine and sing, pearly and crisper

Jump in lakes of water and blooming air

Unwind in winding paths that birds admire

Nuanced in plays of lava and ice

Ease into silent dimples that entice

Ineffable ways in iridiscent dance

Unfettered lashes and aurora, cosmic glance.

/ 12

: 75

Wednesday, June 3, 2026

Breathing Ember

I have enough ember in my heart

To ignite the world in hellfire

I have enough wood in my hands

To burn it down to putrid ashes

I have enough oxygen in my lungs

To keep the rage alive even in the ashes

But I wouldn't...

I couldn't.

I smell Life

In my breath

Every time.

/ 11

: 56

Pages

Sunday, June 14, 2026

Cosmos in a Satchel

Gloaming View

Saturday, June 13, 2026

Lost ? Or Found ?

Would The Trees Tell?

Jaded Skies of Widu

Inches of Precision

A Seashell of Memory

Friday, June 12, 2026

Eyelashes

Wednesday, June 3, 2026

Breathing Ember

About Me