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Ganges at six in the morning (A Haibun)

(Photo by NurPhoto/NurPhoto via Getty Images)

6’O clock
I and me, crossing the Ganges on a freight train, see the horizon enveloped in life. Indian women with their own elegance borrow water from the goddess. Men, after the holy dip, join their hands before the sun.

Heart of India
Lies in this stream, which spread and
Sanctify their souls.

I can see life and death at the same time. Bodies which no longer breathe, are being drown in it. Also, the bodies which breathe are drawing water to drink. But it’s difficult to find which body is alive and which one’s dead.

Plastics, garbage, dance
on surface, to enter bodies,
Whether breathe or not.

And now the river’s crossed. I look inside. The bodies beside mine have closed their eyes. Some are open, but are of no use. Their mouths are whispering to each other in their own fashion. Some talk of politics, some about the mythology. Oh! They also know the stories about the purity of Ganges. But…

None of these stories
Can sanctify the drops which
Purify these mouths.

Now I need to be ready, for my stoppage is arriving. I dare not call it my destination as it’s already decided. The sacred Ganges that I crossed is the ultimate end of this body. Like all of them, I also have to die before death. [“I’m a critic of left wing ideology.”
“You’re right. They don’t respect the indian culture.”
“By the way who will win the election this time. What do you think?”
]
And here comes my stoppage. Let’s meet new bodies, new eyes and new mouths.

About the Ganges at Six

The Ganges is considered as the most sacred river of India. The natives purify themselves by the holy dips. But the catastrophe that the river is facing is being ignored. That’s what I chose as the theme of my poem.

This prose enveloped haibun has been written in response to Colleen’s Poetry Challange. Thanks to her for giving such beautiful words every week. This time the words were Grace and style and my synonyms are Elegance and fashion. Hope you enjoyed it.

Image credit- Getty Images [Link]

Love,

Mistella ❤️

A Voice is heard (A Poem)

A voice of lion and that if a man are on a continuous war
The tumult

A voice is heard often
Like a lion roaring in a den.
He wants to come out,
Roar once again, slake his drought.

But another voice is heard again,
It rebukes the lion and closes the den.
This voice sounds like that of a man
Who wants to do all, but has no plan.

The day isn’t too far
When the tumult will turn into a war.
Face of lion with a body of man, I see,
None is ready to set the other free.

This war of the voices begins with the sunrise,
And ends at the moment I close my eyes.
This is the way where monsters tread,
Head’s alive, while the heart’s dead.

Written in response to November writing prompt.

Love,

Mistella ❤️

Yours and Mine (A Poem)

I saw a dream of a floating corpse,
Sleeping in peace, with no warps.
I wonder what it would be dreaming,
No commands, no regrets, but eyes still not gleaming.

Will it ever get tired of this night,
And wish for a morning beam to enter its sight?
Or is it better to lie in dark,
Where birds never chirp, dogs never bark?

What if Endymion suddenly opens his eyes,
Finds no beauty, no color and nobody wise.
Will he choose to sleep again in dark,
Or wander to see the change, what would be his remark?

If a body is sleeping with its eyes closed,
The dream can break without being disclosed.
While a dead’s dream is shrouded in mystery,
No demands, no expectations, still a long hidden history.

Let’s turn this body into a couple of corpses,
Riding smoothly over the water, no need to feed the horses.
Let’s twinkle like stars without owning its light,
Glaring far enough with proud, no quarrel, no fight.

No light, but a colorful night is waiting,
Let’s fall asleep, without contemplating.
Yours and mine dream shall be woven
Together in the sky and beneath the ocean.

Yours and mine dream

The poem “Yours and Mine” is a part of November writing prompt. Hope you like this poem.

To know more about the prompt visit the link.

Also, if you want to read my upcoming posts, Subscribe to the blog. For instance, if you’re interested in writing poetry or prose, your works are invited.

Further, if you wish to read my latest posts, go and read it now. Let me know your feedback in the comments.

Introducing a new perspective

I am updating this post with a little change in perspective. Previously when I wrote this poem, I had a different thought behind the theme. But this time, I would like to confess that the perspective is completely new.

I have changed some form and meter, but not much. As I believe that every time you read a poem, you can read it with a new perspective. So I didn’t bother myself to bring much changes in it.

This has been done in response to d’verse MTB. Our host Björn wanted us to bring a new perspective by coming out our comfort zones. Well I would like to thank him for such a creative challenge.

Love,

Mistella❤️

My Second Childhood (A Poem)

I shall never get myself back once you grow,
Giggling, tickling, and lovingly chiding,
All shall I lose with your innocence,
That you’re blessed with.

I can sense a soft touch of undivided love
When you suddenly make a clutch from behind.
I shall lose this laughter,
while turning and hugging you back,
With your playfulness,
That you rightfully own.

The fun of making a suitable sentence
Out of your broken words,
Is already diminishing day by day.
Perhaps I shall lose it entirely
with your childish humor,
That you’re always ready with.

The excitement of listening
To your amazingly creative queries,
Will be ruined one day.
I shall definitely lose this smile
With your curiosity,
That you were born with.

The soft touch of your neck on my arm
And that lovely smell when I kiss you,
All shall I lose with your childhood,
That you will leave behind,
And I shall perhaps never get myself back ever.

Your little fingers, pearly teeth, curious eyes,
Am I supposed to lose all this one day?
Then I shall perhaps lose my second childhood
With yours first.

My second childhood

About “My Second Childhood”

This poem is for a little brother, who’s quite younger than the speaker. I’m just telling my intent behind writing it. You are free to interpret it yourself:)

Love,

Mistella ❤️

Image Pixabay [Link]

A Piece of Art that touched my soul- The Lonely Poetry of Night by Gabriela

Hola my dear readers, I’m Mistella and I am back with a great piece of art “The Lonely Poetry of Night” from the Short prose blog.

What do you do when a piece of art touches your heart?

You want your friends and people to read it or watch it too. Right? This post is going to be the same.

Short prose blog❤️

This piece of art by one my fellow bloggers touched me and I want you to read it too. This poem titled “The Lonely Poetry of Night” by Gabriela is literally wonderful. Here’s an excerpt for you:

trees whisper, cries of cloudy skies
inaudible, unseen,
you, Astraea,
you push me on a long-forgotten trail...

I request you to check out the whole poem on her blog. Here’s the link to it:

https://shortprose.blog/2019/10/25/the-lonely-poetry-of-night-poem-poetry/

I’m sure you will enjoy it.

Love,

Mistella❤️

The Shadow (A Tanka)

Dead, dark street, haunted
By a shadow. Alone, she walked,
Unearthed the mound, sat
At the edge, meowed and jumped,
And the shadow left the street.

The Shadow

About “The Shadow”

This tanka is for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday. This time the two prompt words are Dig and Grave. Since using the prompts is not allowed, I am using their synonyms.

My synonyms are mound and unearth.

Because a tanka poem displays a mood or a state of mind, this poem is doing the same. It presents the state of the speaker’s mind.

The person’s mind has been compared to a dark and dead street. There is a shadow which I have compared to a cat.

Since cats are considered to be a bad sign, I have used her shadow. This shadow haunts the street. But later, it is seen that it jumps into the tomb itself and leaves the street.

By this poem, I wanted to present the idea that all of us create our fear. And only we can overcome it. We take ourselves to a bad situation and only we can make it better.

Well this was my perspective. You should find a meaning to this poem yourself. Every poem has the capacity to be interpreted in infinite ways. So do your own interpretation. I have just given my perspective and I eagerly wait to know what’s yours!

To know more about Colleen’s Poetry Challange, visit the link given at the end.

Further, a lot new is about to come on the blog. So be ready and subscribe for the newsletter. If you’ve still missed the episode 1 and episode 2 of The Coffee House, go check them out, because the new episode is on the way.

Here’s the link to Colleen’s Poetry challange.

Will be back soon with a new post, till then see you in the comments!

Love,

Mistella❤️

Love (An Etheree)

Love
Wonders
Who’s serving
This charm to it.
Glowy mornings stir
Bubbling desires to stay
As a shade of its spectrum,
Spreading all the colours it has,
While the sunbeams falling on its face
With an elegance never seen before.

Love!!

This is a part of Colleen’s poetry challenge. Prompts for this Tuesday’s poetry challenge are Spell and Treat. As theme is Synomyms only, we chose the words Charm and Serve.

Also, the challenge was to write a poetry in the specified forms only. So we thought to write an Etheree.
Before you think what’s Etheree now, let us help you.

Etheree is a poetic form with 10 lines and it’s syllable count increases by one with each proceeding line.

We hope you enjoy this piece and request you to show your love and support to the blog. Share the blog with your friends. And, please let us know in the comments if you have any suggestions regarding our content.

By the way, two new categories have been added to our list. The Book Review every week and the episodic story. Latest is the episode 1 of The Coffee House, go read it if you still haven’t. We will be back with Episode 2 very soon, till then stay tuned.

Finally, if you want to know more about Colleen’s poetry challenge, go check out the link.

Colleen’s Poetry challange.

Love,

Mistella❤️

Amidst the Fight (A Poem)

Amidst the fight,
Fight for the vote bank,
Fight for a throne-like-chair,
A part of society,
A part of this planet,
Is left aside,
Crying and beging,
Fighting and shouting.

Amidst the riots,
Riots of hindu and muslim,
Riots on cow slaughtering,
A part of society,
A part of this planet,
Is sliced-off,
Quivering and stammering,
Weakening and dying.

A mother is beaten,
A father suicides,
A son drops out of his school,
A daughter is raped.
But is this part of society,
Not made to be shaped?

Amidst the achievements,
Achievements in space,
Achievements in wars,
A part of society,
A part of this planet,
Is kept apart,
Far off the upheavals,
Far off the race,
For this part of society,
Seems to have no face.

Unaware of the tricks and intrigues,
This innocent part of society,
Finds temporary solutions as a panacea,
And stumbles across the whole life,
For our politics never let it know its real “problem”,
For which it needs to strife.

This part of society,
Hence, should learn a lesson.
It needs to remember
What it has been through.
And need not share
Its so-called master’s view.

Image credit- Pixabay

Hope you like this poem. We’ll be back with a new post tomorrow. We will try to come up with new topics very soon!

Subscribe to the blog and share the link with your friends.

Love,

Mistella😊

Search yourself (Not a Poem)

My pen and hands were quite,
Searching for something to write.
Suddenly I heard a voice,
Sounding immature, but wise.
To find yourself,
is like searching for clothes in a bookshelf.

I couldn’t stop myself of taking a glimpse of the person on the street,
I quickly went to remove the curtain of the window,
which opens at the street.
I peeped out of the window,
but the moment I heard the voice,
was fleet.

I saw two children sitting on the mound of sand kept in a corner,
competing to search for the stone inside the sand.
On seeing the eagerness and speed of their hands,
I tried to convince myself,
that the voice was not their’s.

I just wished to match the voice which I heard,
with that of the one of them.
But no one can be as cunning as the god,
they didn’t utter even a word after that.
And again I kept on searching myself!!

Keep searching yourself, never settle!

It may not be called a poetry. But it’s something which came out of my head on its own. So I thought to share it, still don’t know what is it!

Hope you like it and find yourself. Keep searching and don’t settle.

Subscribe to the blog if you enjoy reading its content.

Also Amazon great indian sale is back, so try finding yourself in books. If you enjoy reading books, you can buy them from our link. We may get a very small commission from your purchase😊

Love,
Mistella ❤️

The Ultimate Pleasure of Life (A Poem)

Hello dear readers! Our existence is nothing but a paradox of “life“. Isn’t it? Sometimes, we really find pleasure in what we achieve, but have we ever noticed what this pleasure resembles?

The sparkle of those crackers

Am I right?

Let’s find the ultimate pleasure of life. Here I have composed a small poetry on what we are and what we are meant to be.

Hope you like it:)

Let’s choose the “road not taken”
Image credit- pixabay

The Poem “The Ultimate Pleasure of Life”

Miles have been walked,
miles are still to be stalked.
Let’s come out of these dilemmas
and escape out of these undesired commas.

Millions have been thrilled,
millions are still to be killed.
Let’s rush to the peak
before we lose the chance to speak.

Stop walking hand in hand,
stop capturing your footprints on sand.
Let’s just lose the patience
before our identity requires an evidence.

Even though we are dying,
even though we are crying.
Our eyes and ears are closed
as we’ve to keep the truth unexposed.

Never believe the warmth of the sun,
never laugh at the moments of fun.
Just trust your cursed existence
which should be the only reason for subsistence.

Illusion is your status,
illusion is this plumpness due to flatus.
Escape out of this paradox of life
which leads to a never-ending path of strife.

Pleasure is when you gift your smile,
pleasure is when beggars keep your file.
Let’s live those moments which were partaken,
let’s just choose the “Road Not Taken”.

Hope it pleased you somehow:)

All I meant to say is:

Choose wisely as your happiness is key to the door of your aim.”

Will be back very soon with a new one!

Subscribe to the blog to read more articles😊

With lots of Love,

Mistella🙂

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