Monsoon Land

In our monsoon land
horizon is where
the parrot meets the dove

In our monsoon land
fifty shades of green
sing brazenly

In our monsoon land
woodfire smoked chai
is spiked with rain

In our monsoon land
clouds come rolling down
why bother with raining?

In our monsoon land
rain water reddens
on meeting earth

In our monsoon land
a flock of egrets
awaits the ploughing

In our monsoon land
the farmer walks
along with the bullocks.
~

Where the devil is a particular shade of blue

How do I explain my life to you?
Words, where are the appropriate words?
Spaces and colors and shapes appear
in response to your questions.

My life is a toy maze
in pink plastic
with concentric circles,
and a tiny metal sphere at its center
rattling about in all directions,
trying to find a way out.

My life is a patchwork quilt
with stitches unraveling.

The fear that crowds inside me
is swirls of blue green sky at the bottom of the lake.

How do I explain my life to you?
The soft pastel words have vanished;
Primaries rule the tip of my tongue.

I smile vaguely instead, and sip more coffee.
~

(Published in A Hudson View in 2011)

Note: Often I have struggled to express in words the images contained in the mind. And there are times when words seem so inadequate. The title itself is so because for me the devil is associated with a shade of blue. I have heard of synesthesia but not sure if this poem reflects it.

The Red Sofa

At least once in your lifetime you must sit on it.
Feel the hard springs beneath the sturdy but rough surface.
Absorb its attitude: A defiant red, can-do-it
To combat the surrounding smell of defeat.


A hole-in-the-wall home
Back up against fatigued stone
But a home nevertheless
A welcoming warm red, a bed, a refuge.
 ~

photo: Christine Donnier-Valentin

Magpietales has once again come up with a lovely prompt, with this photo!