Open Spaces

I have poor memory
rummaging my mind
hammering out old facts
from a thick brown hard shell
in-questing about remains of past life

I think different thoughts
of what i could have been
I begin to trace back
to my original form

I must have been a dog
barking , loitering around
baow wao
barking at strangers
sleeping at will
no duty to fulfill
of except one hearts
I might have had a master
who must be searching for me
his missing hound

I must have been an ant
disciplined hard-worker
slim but dark
like two protruding balloons joined together
with a black thread
walking in line
one after another
searching for food
scratching
every tiny piece wood
fallen crystal cube of sugar
to present it to the Queen
may be i did this for infinite times
as a tiny slave of life

May be I was some thin air
hot gloomy
which stemmed from someone’s funeral
may be I was a queen who lost his husband
in coterie of many other queens

I jaunt on
to find my existence
from the apogee of my mind
nothing quenches
no answers satiates
So i assume
its a spotless mind
no memory
oblivion of past life

Feeling of Loss
a philosophical gain 
You lose the restlessness
of fluttering wings 
their desperation to 
cut and thrash the air
to take maiden flight
to different skies
which have hues of blue
orange and gold
where world is just 
our imagination

Feeling of Loss 
a pinching pain of
reality stepping into habit
like a bite of brand new shoes
waiting to become a part
to transform into 
unconditional acceptance
with gratis of an empty heart

Loss
a gain of strength
torment within
to revive;
yes but
constant yearning (to see again)
delicate thread of emotions
holding the beloved 's memory
to feel them 
talk to them 
gradually decays

And finally the loss 
takes its place 
- a photograph on the side table
just a remembrance of pain
an unacceptable reality

© 2011 Divya Sachdeva

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blurred memories
of kisses
on pink cheeks
foreheads
tiny palms
every peck
a blessing given

your simple smile
on slightly stretched contours
of lips
ousted beads of stress
hovering like cloud
over the day

Your embrace
special
like a lotus
gleaming the gloomy

Words evade me
your face flashes again
and again
I hear you calling my name
I turn
but you are no where

moments flow
into days and months
I float
as an empty boat
searching its ligthouse
in deep new waters

© 2011 Divya Sachdeva

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A note  – Its just that I am missing my mother as I am staying away from her these days. She is very much hail and hearty just that I am missing her a lot.

In passing moments
I miss you
In flooding thoughts
I remember you
Though I am near
but seems so far

Sad Mandarin

sits tilted
with upturned lips
its wrinkled skin 
- arched as wings 
of a churning windmill 
with concealed eyes
it looks below
melancholily
and kisses
the goodbye kiss
at the hem 
of the blued curtain
Another side
the belly button 
young 
well cratered 
with the freckled 
orange rind 
ready's to be squeezed
by her hands
opening gates 
of nectar-ed rush

© 2011 Divya Sachdeva

This post has been written for for : dVerse Meeting the Bar: Imagism

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The image has linked from http://danrobinsonpaintings.blogspot.com/     

 He is an amazing painter and has been the recipient of numerous awards including The John F. and Anna Lee Stacey Scholarship, the Grumbacher Gold Medallion and an Award of Merit from The Oil Painters of America.

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I dont think I got the prompt right and if this is exactly Imagist poem.But still I wanted to try.

Comments / Critique all are welcome

I like the lonely hour
at 8 am in my office
peaceful like
a silent sea
blued with silver hopes
for a crowning Sun in sky’s womb
the fresh winter air
sprinkles drops of
sound on my ears
keys pressed.. tuck tuck
hushhhhh…….
the coffee machine vends
an epilogue to mug
I meet myself
at this hour
discuss
contemplate
on skewed stars
drawn on paper
and days to come
I meet my poetic words
pursed under the lips
of (8 am) morning’s silence.

© 2011 Divya Sachdeva

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Did you notice 
from the window of your car
or from the window 
of your red bricked house
how fog clouds 
floats mid air
translucently
sits above us
Following us 
taking care 
just as few best friends do 

you stretch your palms 
to even open the wrinkles of hand
and close them at once
gritting nails in skin
to hold the floating fog
in your trembling frozen hands
But it disappears at once
leaving nothing except 
winter sweat on skin 
just as few best friends do 

it keeps an eye 
sprinkling chilled fragrance
from the air above
bringing spring within gloomy winters
In anger sometimes becomes dense
blocks the vision 
perplexes the path 
forms perception 
of some unknown 
encumbrance
causing accidents 
just as some perceived friends do 

© 2011 Divya Sachdeva 

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The Sun cuts the sky
into hues of blue
light and dark
with white spots of clouds
And in the long distance of vision
are birds
flapping their wings
breathing hard
who started
from their nests
to my nest
As I feed them
every morning

The grey black beaks
holding the grain
cracking
with their blades
To nuts they smash
into  half
I ponder
Could sufferings be halved
with their playful sight

birds
doves and pigeons
always in pair
fly in sky
to the sun
sleep eat play
what fun
Can I be one of them ?

Fly in the boundless
colorless blue
play in clouds
those watery bubbles
with mates
No strings tying us
to ground
no threads of societal vows
only vows of unspoken words
knitting me to you
weaving love
weaving sky

But no mate is
left now
the one I had
flew to heavens
in sky swimming through the orange red sun
waits for me at Eagle peak
Open arms
Open wings
doves and pigeons
perching
on his stout shoulders
showering warmth
as they do now…

© 2011 Divya Sachdeva

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Brewed up for Open Link Night Week 23 at dVerse Poets

Completely Unedited ..Wanted to post one for OLN

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