January 2014 mindful writing, day 30

Curled up by the bay window, I listen to the shuffle of goat feet bringing dusk down the forest path.

January 2014 mindful writing, day 28

My bare, brown, bald lawn.
Will the crickets sing tonight?

January 2014 mindful writing, day 27

 A handkerchief sky  the breadth   of a bluebird's wings

January 2014 mindful writing, day 26

The wannabe PM. The ebb and flow of his voice.The shine of his promises. The crowd breaks into a loud applause every other minute.

day moon-

a giant balloon

in the sky

January 2014 mindful writing, day 25

Scent of cut grass. Tiny orange rosebuds. And an early-bird koel that has got its song all wrong.The weather is changing here.

January 2014 mindful writing, day 24

When everybody has gone to bed, my neighbour's balcony rails climb up my bedroom walls.

January 2014 mindful writing, day 23

I prepare his favorite dessert and serve it in a gleaming silver bowl. Then I put three basil leaves on top.

* In India,basil or tulsi leaves are put in dishes when food is being offered to God or a departed soul.

january mindful writing, day 22

yoga breath...

inhaling the warm sun,
the green
of the Eucalypt, the scent
of mulch on the forest floor

January 2014 mindful writing, day 21

At the park,children still queued up for a last tumble down the slide. The seniors, having finished their walks, are catching their breaths on the benches. Smell of over-ripe squashes from the vegetable-vendor's stall hangs in the air.The spring just around the corner...

January 2014 mindful writing, day 20

counting votes,
tallying scores...
poetry comes to a closed door

(January 2014 mindful writing, day 18 ) In Kat Creighton's memory

 The news that Kat Creighton , the haiku poet from Jersey, passed away two days ago, came as a shock this morning.

I had met Kat on the NaHaiWrimo site, when I joined it in 2011 and she had only been a Facebook friend, yet it feels like I had known her always.She was a wonderful poet and I had been a regular visitor to her blog, which features prominently here among my blogroll. Here is the last poem she posted on NaHaiWriMo on January 14th, the day before she died.

three quarter moon -
impossible to distinguish what is
from what isn't

Another one by her that I loved:

falling leaves

so many ways to count

our numbered days

Kat had been giving the prompts on NaHaiWriMo this month also, when one day she simply failed to turn up.

My  small stone today is in Kat's memory, based on the prompt given at NaHaiWriMo today .

are  there angels

...misty woods 

Rest in peace, Kat Creighton.I will always miss your voice.

January 2014 mindful writing challenge, day 17

Snuff-colored evening thick with smog and the long line of traffic moving sluggishly like the tail of some pre-historic animal. We sit slumped staring at the billboards.

January 2014 mindful writing, day 16

The red-whiskered bulbul discovers its soulmate in the mirror.All day long, it keeps coming back to peck at it a thousand times.

morning after...

a plastic cover thrown

over the bike

January mindful writing, day 15

Gunfire in the deep woods grinds the night into a gazillion grains.We stir in our beds uncomfortably. Another commando exercise.

January mindful writing, day 14

On this photo prompt by Kash Poet in the Facebook IN haiku group, I wrote the following lines.And then did the haiga below as well.

flying kites...

 the colours in my

inner sky

photo:Google images

photo:Google images

January mindful writing, day 13

  Thin gray morning mist tattooed here and there with the red and pink and mauve of the hibiscuses not yet fully in bloom. I don't even have to take off my glasses to imagine an impressionist painting.

January mindful writing, day 12

The camel that has paused outside our house under the almond tree to munch on its leaves and refuses to budge in spite of being goaded by its keeper, looks at me with desert-rimmed eyes.

January mindful writing, day 11

Money plant in a glass bottle. Some roots are to be flaunted and showcased.

January mindful writing, day 10

It only takes a few drops of whites to turn the amber into pale gold. Ah, my morning tea!








 To find out more about about the January writing challenge, click here.http://www.writingourwayhome.com/day-1-january-mindful-writing-challenge-post-your-small-stone-here/

January mindful writing, day 9

When the distant dog barks turn into a whimper and the lights in the high-rises begin to go off one by one; when the silence in the streets is broken only by the crackle of the walkie-talkies from the occasional patrolling police car; then the migrants and the pavement dwellers huddle around a fire in the street corner and talk about the village, the fields, the cattle that they left behind.

tar-black night...
who scattered those stars
by the roadside

                                                  

 To find out more about about the January writing challenge, click here.http://www.writingourwayhome.com/day-1-january-mindful-writing-challenge-post-your-small-stone-here/