Morning

Morning

1. the first part or period of the day, extending from dawn, or from midnight, to noon.
2. the beginning of day; dawn: Morning is almost here.
3. the first or early period of anything; beginning: the morning of life. –adjective
4. of or pertaining to morning: the morning hours.
5. occurring, appearing, used, etc., in the morning: a morning coffee break.

[ Two Klashers wrote post the deadline and were a couple of hours late, Konfessioner Sarang might not have checked the Inbox again... I am putting up one of the posts of first time Klasher Seema.. this is not up for the Kompetition though! The second Klasher was GS Virmani, he had not kommented last time he participated and I thought it prudent to refrain from entertaining his late entry--Konfessioner Singh]

Seema Kashyap

He starts walking the moment I switch off my mind- you know – the moment my thoughts cease and I drop off into the unknown. I wake up with a jerk and my eyes hurt as I grate them open- even in the dark. Creak-creak- creak-thump. Woosh- I hear the flush. Creak-creak, creak-creak- he enters the bedroom. He will get up again at 1:30am and at 3:30am. If I’m lucky my ear-plugs will work and I’ll be so tired that my mind will refuse to register his sounds.

Creak-creak, creak-crash. Its 6:00am. He’s always up at 6:00am, no matter what time he goes to sleep. Will there ever be a day when I wake up to the sound of birds like I used to in Lucknow? To the sound of bells and chants to gods as papa went about his morning prayers? Not till I live in this thin-floored apartment in New Jersey with a fat insomniac upstairs neighbor. Ugh!

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Mandappa KC (119)

They called him Captain, of what I never knew
He told me bedtime stories of things rare and few
He sat there with a guitar, time after time
Telling me of distant lands, sipping on his wine
He sang of monsters, pirates and ogres too
Boogeymen, nobgoblins and a wily octopus named Goo
They wrecked havoc while they laughed at the moon.
And scared little children who never ate with a spoon.
But stand up. Fight
Fight
With all your might
When you are right
Stand my little soldier he would say to me
Never be scared, whoever your enemy
For the morning will come at the end of each night
And through every darkness, there will be light.

Dok Saab (120)

Naina buried her face deeper into Rohit's chest. She was sobbing. Rohit tightened his hug. "Why don't you sleep, mera bachha? It's getting late. I have to catch the morning train". Rohit kissed her forehead. She responded with kissing his chest. "Can't you stay for one more day? It has been only three days since we got married". "You know I can't miss the morning train. They will throw me out of job if I don't reach by tomorrow". Naina looked at the window through her half opened eyes. The sky was getting dark blue. Some birds were chirping in the backyard. Morning was the best time of the day, she always believed. But today she wished morning never came.

Mickey, the Monkey (119)

It was early morning and I was still sleeping snugly on the mango tree, dreaming about Jane, when this noise woke me up. I scratched my back and yawned. Then I looked for the source of noise. To my utter horror, Jane was lying near the pond and was puking out. Her sister was by her side. In three jumps I reached beside her. "What happened darling", I asked, "you look sick"."You naughty ape, look what you did to my sister"."We only played some games, Linda. But why is she vomiting, she never ate any wild berries". "You foolish ape, this is morning sickness. You are going to become a father".What a lovely morning that was.

Priyanka (118)

Aveek felt numb. He felt a blinding light pressing on his eyelids. He was standing at the pearly gates. He had not survived the night on the frozen mountainside, after he got separated from his team. He could feel the angels near him, engulfing him in warm breath and thought, 'Do angels breathe?' He felt them licking his face. 'Hang on!', he thought, 'angels don't lick faces.' He slowly opened his eyes and was dazzled by the light. Slowly, as his eyes adjusted, he could make out a shaggy head, with drooping ears. Slowly, Jackie came into view. His dog had saved him, and he realized that the blinding light was the morning sun blazing down on him.

Willy Wingfoot (118)

Fireside Ballad of the Wings'of'old:

Aeons ago, hmm, so long ago,

Noon sun bright, my WINGS would glow.

Unto mounts, upon blue sea,

Carried them I, proud and glee.

Merry stirred my flight all day,

Living and dead alike, found me gay.

Blood-red blade, bow and arrow,

Riding a Dragon, came sorrow.

One spew fire, other harpooned spear,

that burnt my rear, and heart bled with fear.

Swift wing, quick wit, bourne by haste,

bound towards the clouds, where lay my fathers great.

Whirling, dodging, yelping and yelling,

they found my calling, and poured down hurling.

Slit! Rip! Scratch! Slash!

Valor and courage, stunned the rider and wormling,

and cowering they flew, like the wind of the MORNING.

The Genuine Fake (196)

0630 hrs. Another daybreak is here, I mumble to myself and crinkle in the glistening rays of the sun. Quite strangely,every morning I start to brush my set of enamel coated structures,a few questions choose to stir my mind up. Most common ones being,
--"How does my alarm clock automatically get into the "Snooze" mode?"
--"Why do I get the best sleep while I am on the toilet seat?"
--"Why did the Bangles choose to write only Manic Monday and not Manic other-days-of-the week?"
--"Why do I almost end up applying shaving cream to wash my face?"
and the last one being,
--" Why do I waste so much time on these stupid questions?"
And then...Snap out! Haste everywhere. A half eaten bread toast on the table. Running behind the company bus [with an occassional "wait" to the driver],finally managing to enter the bus,feeling like a winner [for catching the bus] and a loser [for being late] at the same time and the "preparatory" nap till the workplace.
0900 hrs. Yet another morning,with the same conclusion..
"What is this life,if full of care...
We have no time to stand and stare."

Misanthrope (133)

Flying particles & water vapor together,
Scattered the blue light,
Left me a red sunset for sight,
Me with my dream - were flying in a flight..

For the roar of engine
& cry of the pilot,
My mind acted like a bigot..

When I opened my eyes,
It was sight that I had never seen,
It was the sight that I should not have seen,
Lost in the sanctuary of ghosts,
First time - I was afraid of thoughts..

I waited - watched them,
All at once,
As I didn't react,
Dissapointedly they act..

And as I saw a tubular tongue of a sunbird,
I started looking for the sun,
It was light - pure - yellow - devine,
The particles had settled,
It was a sunrise,
It was a morning light..

NM (96)

“It’s a beautiful morning” she said, yawning, looking out of the window…
I didn’t say anything but kissed her softly on her brow...
She smiled and began to get dressed…
I was so much in love that I felt almost blessed…
“Let’s get married, Rhea…” I said, “Let’s start anew… it’s still dawn…”
She didn’t even look at me as she pulled out the blanket, fawn…
“We’ll run away”, I tried to assure, “We’ll go to Venice… we’ll go to Rome…”
“I think you should leave” she stared at me coldly, “Kshitij will soon be home.”

Sarang Mahajan (115)

They roughly pushed me inside a small cell and locked the heavy iron door... for the next sixteen years. I crashed down, burdened by heavy chains. The darkness around me was impenetrable. Eyes open or shut made no difference.

In night, a square opened briefly in the door to let in my one-time meal and water, but no ray of light.

"Just food? Where's hope?" I whispered.

Hours later, a tiny hole appeared in a wall. I was told, they did it every morning to let in air. I looked outside, and hope washed away my dark thoughts. I smiled and said, "Dear Morning, I want to feel you again, some day after sixteen years."

.

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Lord Summer, the Stallion (120)

I stirred and opened my eyes at the cock’s crow
And sprang out of the stable, for my three-hour show

A cool breeze greeted me warmly, Sun smiled behind the mountains’ bow
I threw up my hooves and whinnied at the welcome, scarlet glow

I trotted through the chirping woodland, dew upon its brow
And stopped to see the swans in the lake, gliding nice and slow

I greeted the blue bird and the yellow one, and every duck and dove
And a deer, a fox and the rabbits, who were peeping out of their cove

Then came the master’s whistle, as the day began to grow
And I said, “See you tomorrow, Morning, but now Summer has to go.”

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