Coffee

Coffee

• a beverage consisting of a decoction or infusion of the roasted ground or crushed seeds (coffee beans) of the two-seeded fruit (coffee berry) of certain coffee trees.
• a cup of coffee
• a social gathering at which coffee and other refreshments are served

[ENTRIES CLOSED!]

Nandini Sen (120)

With a steaming cup of coffee, I sat thinking about my Klash entry. Coffee got over, but no inspiration struck. Drat, instant variety doesn’t help, lets try filter coffee.

While brewing the dark concoction an inviting aroma filled my nostrils. Laced with milk and sugar, the nectar was just right. Why don’t they ever make Coffee scented deos?

Twenty minutes later, I had an empty mug, and a blank mind.

Probably, I’ll just write what I overheard at the market yesterday.

Chotu, the cobbler, returned Sethji’s dropped wallet. Sethiji held out a 10rupee note.

Chotu: Sethji mujhe kafi de do

Sethji: Kya Rs10 kafi nahin

Chotu pointed at the coffee mug etched on the fancy restaurant’s door and said “Kafi”

Genuine Fake (110)

I graze greener pastures,

I wake beyond the sleeping masses,

I live in rich taste,

Yet not a minute I waste,

Because of the caffeine in the blood,

I write, I think and I prod,

For thou enliven me,

Thy cream and thy sugar,

They oh so comfort me.

Now I walk in the shadowed valley of your addiction,

Sometime in jubilation, sometime in affliction,

But I shall continue to anoint another day,

With coffee gracing my mug whenever it may,

And I shall savor the frappes,

And the delicious carafes,

And I would dwell in the House of Mochas,

Relieving from all, the oka, the rum or the vodka..

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Santonu (119)

I was lying on the table when the darkness of the big hall was settling down. I was reminiscing the day. Only one table inside the coffee house was occupied in the morning, old folks chatted about each other's family. They spilled me off from their cups and that's how I'm here, they were relaxed, but the young writers weren't happy at all, although they consumed cups of coffee sitting for there for hours. Smoke and noise filled in Coffee House as the students poured in the afternoon; the evening came with bright couples. People say tough intellectuals meet here for the coffee, but I saw humane life over coffee before the wet cloth wiped me off.

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Richa Gupta (120)

"Just black, no sugar" Zohra turned around. She hadn't heard this voice in 10 years. Her mind went back to when she had been 18 and had met the 35 yr old Aslam, a widely acclaimed writer...long hair, black framed glasses, ragged jeans, the personification of all stereotypes. Even his black coffee had been so "adult" so "serious". She had been enthralled but soon disillusion had set in. He spent hours locked inside his own mind, thinking… writing…creating and she was shut out. Many a mornings the empty coffee cups were the only indicators that Aslam had been home. Even his black coffee irritated her...it was so "pretentious!!" She had grown out of him. Looking at him now she wished…

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Dok Saab (120)

(all characters and events in this klash are imaginary. Any resemblance with people is only coincidental)

"CCD 16hrs……AS" the SMS read.
It was well past five now. The café was full.
The waiter came for the fourth time.
"Your order, sir."
"I am waiting for someone" I told him once again.
"It's already been more than an hour, would you mind waiting outside"
"Ok give me one coffee, please" I offered, though I hated coffee.
I wouldn't be here had she not called me here.
"Hot or cold"
"Hot" who needed cold in December?
"Cappuccino or Mocha"
"Cappuccino" I didn't knew the difference anyway.
No sign of her and it was five forty-five.
I tried to take a sip from that dark, bitter, burning concoction.
The bitter taste of that coffee still lingers in my mouth.

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Sarang Mahajan (120)

In Gokulgram, there lived a mean little girl called Coffee. She loved spying over Lord Krishna and obstructing him in playing the naughty pranks he was famous for. But when it came to meeting Radha, she’d go to any extent to stop him. One dawn, when Krishna was cleverly escaping mother Yashoda’s custody to meet Radha at the bank of Yamuna, Coffee, who was hiding nearby purposely, made a big noise to wakeup Yashoda. Recaptured and angry, Lord Krishna cursed her, ‘you are jealous of us loving souls, so hereon, you should be the first reason for two tender hearts to meet and know each other. And while their romance blossoms, you should fume in a cup listening to them.’

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Mandappa KC (116)

My sweet Dusky lady

Oh my sweet dusky lady.

My sweet dusky lady.

Heat me up, when I'm cold

Make me young when I'm old.

Wake me up, when I'm out.

Perk me up, when I'm down.

My sweet dusky lady.

Oh my sweet dusky lady

The way you slide in and fire my veins

Rising passion out on the plains

Steam rising in to the mist

Red hot our every morning tryst.

My sweet dusky lady.

Oh my sweet dusky lady

Tender kisses on raw tongue taste

We meet even if I've got no time to waste

I cant live without you my sweet

Without you, I'd be dead beat.

My sweet dusky lady.

Oh my sweet dusky lady

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GSV (114)

'Tea or Coffee'?

'Tea! Dont bring that beans-stuff for me, beverage for the elite'!

'What happened'?

'Nothing'!

'Tell me'!

'Today Commissioner sahab visited our office and I was supposed to make arrangements.For the Breakfast Meeting, I placed order for three different varieties of biscuits,garnished veg butter toast and extra special cardamom Tea, and you guess what happenend next'?

'What'?

"After breakfast, the principal secretary asked me 'Are you new to civil services? Don't you know tea is an informal drink, have you ever seen tea being served at Marriage, Functions, and kitty parties! Its always Coffee!' "

"Hahaha...You tell me one thing dear,before our marriage, why did you always offered me Coffee during Tea-breaks?"

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Hummingnerd (99)

2 O'clock.
too cold to sleep,
a rotten taste in my mouth,
my eyes are deep...


Once..

I had a big crush
on this girl who used to blush;
asked her out for a cup of tea
said she liked coffee

so we went on in her car
a scent of coffee validated the hour.
I said, "I love thee"
"But, I love louie", said she.
...
...


What happened next is easy to see
a cup of troubles
it turned out to be
I gave up on my tea
and now in bed, I'm having my
bitter coffee.

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Kavish Sinha (120)

Brown bubbles skate across
the smooth, scalding surface,
and cluster at the brim
of the hot mug of dark brew.

They crowd each other,
and murmur steamy coffee yarns
They nudge one another,
Happy to see her around

Each bubble is anxious
to be the first one to burst,
and flick its rich, sharp scent;
into the crisp and clean of her's.

There they pass through the lips
Each relieved to be touching in
Its beans have been crushed
In its trodding serving bliss.

I am warmed on the thought of coffee
I call myself fanatic

I can learn a good deal from it
That satiates me with its death
May I serve the maiden?
Who is now my addict!

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Konfessioner Singh(120)

You can’t match men with coffees. They aren’t deep enough for that sort of thing…and girlfriends ought to share everything over chocolate sundaes and maggi. It’s really all about how you grow with coffee.

I remember the first three grains in a big red mug and an arghhh face, the okay-let’s stay awake with coffee trial and of course! The ‘I’m a writer so I like mine black’ phase. I tried to impress him with the latter…he laughed. Okay, maybe I took it too personally and the result was my version—one big pretty looking mug with a history, freshly ground Turkish black with a spoonful of condensed milk. I remember him when it’s bitter and home when it’s sweet.

Green

• Having green as its colour.
• Sickly, unwell.
• Inexperienced.
• Environmentally friendly.
• (figuratively) Overcome with envy.

[ENTRIES CLOSED]

Richa Gupta (120)

she asked "the color green..

to you what does it mean?"

ohh honey honey

it's the color of money

freshly minted bills of green

spell success I said with a gleam

"oh do they?? she said

what about the weeping willows on our river bed?"

they are fine as they are

they don't put food in my belly or gas in my car

I will have them cut and get the woods clean

And I will bring in bundles of a different green

"They have been here for many generation"

She said with a horrified expression

And they did what good?

Cut them down I definitely would

There's only one color green my honey

And thats the color of money!!

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Mandappa KC (72)

Haiku is the colour green

leaves fall and leaves born

like lovers together, torn

a rose has its thorn

it was all yellow

sunshine, flowers and my life

it was all yellow

blue skies, mountain highs

silver dreams,where eagles fly

thats where i will die

leaves fall and leaves born

like lovers together, torn

a rose has its thorn

crowns of white, robe green

lakes, rivers, hills inbetween

Mother Earth, ever green

Chaos (72)

Grey are my choirs of dissonance
Crimson is my swollen earth
Pungent is my ominous black incense
That marks the damage done by my birth

Distant are my violet whores
Where heavens never shed a tear
Pink are my farthest shores
My pictures of distaste are near

My broken king, savour your brown
White is your only turmoil
Soft and Green are her luscious lips
That kiss me through the velvet soil

Aginsen Chauhan (120)

That English class, I remember clearly

Just before my first senior match, missed it nearly.

Othello was ominous,

And KC made the mood serious,

While I dreamed green.

KC pulled me up; conspicuous day dreaming,

Recited a verse and sought the underlying meaning.

While I dreamed green.

"The pit yawns before thee," KC remarked,

Punished me for a time perilously close to the match time earmarked.

The period closed, so did school,

I knelt before PP's office, like a fool.

"Speak up or you'd be pushing daisies!" barked PP.

"Sir, I play centre-back this evening," managed me.

The moody shithead bellowed, "Now don't you love that green patch. It just does something to you! Take the first left….You'll see green."

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Kavish Sinha (120)

As a child, I remember the box of crayons…And that night.

I was asleep, well almost. After putting away my precious ‘drawing’, that sketch of crooked lines and distorted circles I called a scenery. A tiny voice was whispering... from the box!

"I don't like red", said Orange. "Nor do I", agreed Pink. "I sit at the top", said Blue, "And I give color to the sun", Yellow quipped.

But I couldn't hear Green…

Black said "Am the Universe" and everyone fought. Green spoke mildly, "I am the undemanding ground. Everyone starts from me and ends in me. I allow the burden and wordlessly absorb everything. I am pristine, oh I am Green".

And Green, I colored my scenery first.

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Willy Wingfoot (111)

The Last Shrub

Year-2089

The World is in war.

They burnt, they dug, they slew and they killed us all....a little later before they realised, they need us.

One Survived....

I lay hid, listening to the stream who brings me grievings of what's left....

She tells me;

Of her fair cousins running red.

The stench of decay and death.

Of bodies...half burnt...half buried.

Children, whose mothers won’t see them become men.

And of MEN.....mad wild men.....seeking glory among graves….

I see the red sun....and I see my mother having the last laugh.

Alas! As last of my seeds drop...

I wish...

I wish...I could be EVERGREEN.

I wish...men had never been.

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GSV(112)

"They say 'Grass is always greener on the other side',but my neighbour has pale yellow grass in his lawn,and more important fact is that i have no lawn", grinned Sanket with his distinct broken teeth." 'I am one of the oldest civil contractor of this metro,the order of old city is still green before my eyes when we used to have plush green trees everywhere but now we have skyscrapers instead'."Nobody is living his life for himself, everyone is in rush for 'the green' and now listen the real menace,if u once got struck in a traffic jam, you might keep cursing yourself why you stepped outside until the signal goes green!."

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Nandini Sen (113)

Whenever he came home, he'd spend hours gazing at the wonderful green expanse. The hills remained green throughout the year - different shades. Dark green, fresh bright green, pale green.His soul lay in this green world.

Then there was Panna - the shimmering green emarald of his life. Someday he'd tell her how he loved her.

Today his eyes were trained not on the hills, but the rapidly approaching dot. It was Panna in the green salwarkameez he'd presented her last year.Holding her arm was Neel.

Panna and Neel breezed in with their engagement news. When they left, he noticed his pallor was green with jealousy.

He'd lost his green to blue (Neel).

Mickey the Monkey (120)

"Papa, I have to write an essay on Green, can you help me?"

"How unfortunate, Junior, you have never seen green. It was a popular color in our times. Now there are only gray, brown, red and black colors around. In my childhood, when I lived in the forests of Kuano, there were so many shades of green around. Forest green, lime green, fern green, tea green, parrot green, olive green, even sea green. The green color of trees in springs was different from that in summers. There's nothing green around now, but I'll show you some trees and grass in the museum tomorrow."

"Dad, are you talking about pre-historical colors, I have to write about Green, the rock band."

Dok Saab (120)

Harit Joshi, the chief of Green Brigade, was sitting on fast unto death outside the Palampur Paper Mills. Wherever the greenery was in peril, he was there.
"Use email save trees" was his slogan,
"Shutdown the paper mill, save earth's green cover" was his demand.
Seth Jamnadas had come for negotiation with this green activist.
"Your mills can continue only on one condition, Jamnadas Ji. Make a pledge to the Nation that you will plant five trees for every tonne of paper made, Palampur's green cover has to be saved"
And coming close to him, whispered in his ears,
"And, 10% shares for me in your company and an apartment for my son-in-law in Manhattan, fully furnished with teakwood furniture."

Hummingnerd (109)

Green is your love
Measured by the root of prosperity
Sweet and angelic
Looking for a colorful identity

Green is your mind
Poverty-ridden and clogged with stems of dismay
Joyful and serene
Beyond which there is no today

Green is your plate
Filled with pleasures of a wicked appetite
Suspended on a hook abode
Having a dangerous poisonous evil delight

Green is your future
Greener will be the sun
Greener will be the moon
Greener will you weep
Greener you will sleep
Green is thou
Green is thee
How much more greenery do you want to see?
...
...
...
Yes
With some more money
Greener you will be!

NM (120)

"Green", Nysa screamed, "My blood's green."

There are things in life we don't have control on. Aslam always knew that things between them couldn't work out. He hated her kind, they had attacked and broken down his mosque, had killed his brothers, raped his sisters. But then, he did love her. But could he commit to her? It was the quintessential question of principles being bigger than love. When love gets bigger, belief becomes ego.

"This ain't gonna work Nysa. It just can't." he said, smashing a bottle, blindness shimmering through his eyes.

She picked a piece of glass and slit her wrist before he could even blink.

"Why not Aslam? Look at this, Green", Nysa screamed, "My blood's green."

Neharika (120)

In twilight, on top of the pole Ashra saw it.

"its still green " she screeched with joy into stillness.

Incoherently she blabbered at his incognito touch "kaka teacher said in class India soon lose all greenery fertility growth because no trees evil corruption! Then at home bad dream flag had no green! so ran to school to check "

Eyes moist he thrust a big stone into her palm "Till it is green this nation will be too”

Stranger HE left singing

"my only inheritace , the most expensive emerald is lost

Its sparkling green in a childs heart hope restored

time o time fly back in your flight ,

make me a child again, just for tonight "

Konfessioner Singh (120)

A thousand green bangles
are alive tonight.
They clink,
dancing with the moonlight.

Heavy are bent arms,
with wet diamond drop bracelets--
of fresh rain.

Now singing soft songs
slowly whispering me awake…

Calm scents call
tickling a silent sleepy nosetip,
and capturing pockets of this wind
are magic-purple baby chimes…

A thousand green bangles
are making music;
with the first wafts of winter wind
fingering all that’s asleep,
Peter-Pan in a pea suit like…

Three nights ago I heard:
the first whisper
and I saw early,
the ripe orange harshingar--
falling like fragrant stars,
like impossible sweet wishes
on wet earth bricks
the morning winter arrived
embracing with a clink
of green bangles
my rosy red winter kissed cheeks.

Word

Word...

• the text or lyrics of a song as distinguished from the music.
• contentious or angry speech; a quarrel.
• a short talk or conversation
• an expression or utterance
• warrant, assurance, or promise
• news; tidings; information
• a verbal signal, as a password, watchword, or countersign

[ENTRIES NOW CLOSED]

Sarang Mahajan(120)

Someone asked, ‘Why only humans know words?’
He was answered….

Sometimes words pat you to perk you up
Sometimes they are a splash that wakes you up

Like a mother, they hold you with warmth
Like a lover, they break your heart

They become a ship and carry you to different lands
They become a flight and take you to your distant home

They burn like a torch to show you the way,
Or deceive you and push you in a pit

They plunge like a dagger, cut sharp
They touch you intimately and turn your ears hot

Words are delicate, they easily become a weapon from a medicine.
So naturally, the wisest race on earth was entrusted with them!

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NM (176)

We sat in the warm sea sand, lounging back, hand in hand. The sun was setting, making her hair glow in an ecstatic crimson. She looked at the sea, then at me. She said nothing, just smiled. I loved her so much, nothing could be better than that moment.

"Ask her Akash, don't let time blink" I said to myself.

Gathering all the courage in the form of air in my lungs, holding back all the fears in the form of breath I looked straight into her big, brown eyes.

"Nisha, Marry me"

She looked at me, a tad shocked. I was put off balance. Trying to regain whatever bit of it I had lost I asked,

"Will you?"

She glanced. And held that glance. My heart was pounding. The sun was about to set. Time was about to blink. And then she giggled, and I knew it was time to let go off the fear. I finally breathe.

"Yes" she said. And continued to giggle.

One word. That one word changed my life. Our lives.

Misanthrope (72)

With the WORDS that
Seem placid and hurting,
I am decorating the story of our,
Possessive love,
For life -
For death -
and everything that comes in between,
with the colors of day-night and a tearful smile..

With the freedom,
Depicted by the movement of hand,
I kept moving the brush,
Till it wrote the WORDS,
Of silence and pain and struggle,
For falling in to love - again and again....

Santonu (123)

"Headless-chicken" is a costly word much more than the chicken itself, millions of rs was spent and wasted discussing the word in the parliament, such a strong word! Chapel said Ganguly is "lazy" and a state went mad, the govt. at the center felt the tremor. Some president said "friendly-firing" and the world trembled in laughter amidst fieriest war. "Peace" is the most abused word, those who talk about peace use it for triggering war. Those who always say we are at war, actually stay at home in peace, funny words! I missed the purple krown once as I wrote three words more and someone said "three words can change so many things" how true! and now I really ran out of words….

Nandini Sen (92)

He was happy. She was Happy. They were both singing "Words, words are all I have to take your breath away". The apple of their eye - little Moppet had uttered her first words.

"&aaa" said Moppet.

She imagined the 1st letter to be M...Moppet has said "Maaa"

He imagined it to be P....Moppet has said :Paaa"

It didn't matter. Moppet's words were immortalized in their lives. Maaa or Paaa - atleast she had spoken...not once, not twice, but repeatedly a dozen times.

Words, words, beautiful words their baby daughter was communicating.

Kaveesh Sinha (262)

I still remember the c-a-t and the m-a-t. The o-n-e and the t-w-o. It was arduous and seemed practically impossible to form words. The alphabets alone, 26 in number seemed a task for 26 lives, almost hinting dyslexia in me, but I managed. I managed to learn them all and even more…lots more. But no language is perfect, no vocabulary is adequate to the wealth of this valued world. I learnt words in many languages, still I feel lost to them, eventually wondering what is it that can encompass the whole rich, harsh and subtle experiences of this world full of words.

I would wonder how alphabets go straight into words and how words went straight into lines. Lines that could separate countries, that could break territories and wipe out things as tough as human bondages. Lines, which could create splits thorny enough to fill up, lines that could eventually devastate the state of all valuable experiences and events of life. These are nothing but words that form two lines apart…far enough for even the same man to straddle from one to the other. The grammar affects these words, breaking up infinitives affects these words, using negatives affects these words. Life, however by any means is not a handsome word! Sin and purity, hatred and love, rebellion and support, destruction and nurturing are all words. If we remember them, we know them. We put the word out of our mind, and they depart. Eventually all comes down to life being a long sentence, the only need…to end it with the right WORD.

Truth Dude (120)

Say it!

Say it now!!

Not yet.

He was dreaming. It was a beautiful dream. One which would gladden him.

Thankfully!

For the direct consequence of this dream, mattered.

It mattered like hell!!

But later that...

First, the dream.

He smiled. He mumbled.

He slept fitfully. Like a little baby who had never known pain or joy or sorrow

and for whom everything was inconsequential.

Ahhh, what I would give to dream that dream.

But look at Him.

He sleeps and turns and smiles.

And then suddenly,

He wakes.

'Oy'

Say it now!

'I can't see anything…'

Say the word…say it!

'Too much darkness'

NOW NOW NOW!!

'Light!', He said

'Let there be light!!'

And so the Universe was born!

GSV (150)

Aman always believed that 'Lack of communication leads to delusion in a relationship'. But was defeated everytime in his efforts to bring that harmony which he aspired. Words were the only mode to converse between Sarika and him. He knew how to give wings to his thoughts, but interpretation was never easy, implication was too vague, meanings were so many.He knew how to express that love, through conjugation of letters,but dismay was such easy, mistrust was too certain,doubts were so many.

He wished he could hug her once and let the eyes speak for him.He wished if they couldn't stay together for long then atleast give a blissful end to their amity. But no one can hear those silent wishes,only words are audible. For him today words were few, thoughts both old and new, time very limited, he again resorted to dial her number to have that one last word.

Richa Gupta (118)

The words just hung there….cruel, hard and cold....like icicles. They stared at each other, two strangers married for 6 years. He couldn't believe she had said the "D" word…neither could she....it had been reverberating in her mind for some time now but to actually have spoken it aloud!! She groped in her mind to grasp at the times when the words had been softer, when the feelings behind the words had been of love and not bitterness and anger. But those times seemed so elusive…they were there somewhere but hovering out of reach. If she could just reach out…touch them….she would wrap them around her…for warmth….for comfort….if only she could find them… maybe this nightmare would be over…

Dok Saab (102)

The Wordsmith

Morning, Magic,

Mist, rain,

Mere words,

Combination of letters,

Feeble, hollow, worthless.

But these bare words,

Dressed with her thoughts,

Become potent, complete,

Evocative, elegant.

A wizard of words is she.

Naked, body,

Infidelity, pain.

Mere words,

Meaningless sounds,

Harsh, noisy, discordant,

But these jarring words,

Coming from her flute,

Become musical, sweet,

Tuneful, harmonious.

A wizard of words is she

Smile, Kiss

Love, wing,

Mere words,

Empty elements of speech,

Senseless words,

Scattered chaotically,

Like the blobs of paint,

On a grimy palette.

With her pen, a brush,

She paints beautiful pictures,

Verses, stories, songs.

A wizard of words is she.

Hummingnerd (120)

An apology
a shout
the acceptance
true and false
first and final
hard and easy
...
Words are important.



you can't see or touch them
you can only hear
you can only read
Yet..
like all the things man invented
they are mortal

so hear...
so read...

important is not the word spoken
it's the look of the eyes
a bend of the head
the hint of a smile
it's the feeling
yes !
a word without feeling...
a river without bed...
a body without soul...
...
a world without love...

Thus...
don't just read this
these are nothing but words.
words used sparingly,
for you to not read
but, to feel....

..........

a word is
a world without love

Mickey the Monkey (113)

Words failed me.
Again and again.

King, I would have been.
But father, when he asked,
Will I takeover his throne?
Why not, yes I wanted to say.
Why no… was all I could stammer.
Words failed me.

Mine, Jane would have been.
But Jane, when she asked,
Do I want to marry her?
No one else but you I wanted to say.
No... No... was all I could stammer.
Words failed me. Again.

Born as man I would have been.
But God, when He asked,
How on earth I want to be born?
A prince charming… I wanted to say.
Ape... ape... was all I could stammer.
Words failed me. Yet Again

Konfessioner Singh (117)

“Sometimes you like a song before its moment and you can never imagine it will mean so much and so soon.

And that one word... it grows into you, pushing against the walls of the pit in your stomach, against your neck when you swallow, stinging your eyes, ordering them to betray you.”

Meera, stop writing about it.

I can’t.

You will go mad Meer…

Does it matter Mahtob?

To me it does.

For how long?

Stop it!

Go away.

Meeru please…

But why do they always do this to me Mahtob? Why must I always…imagine the rest of the story?

“Another word to weave into my blanket of verse. With its pockets of dead possibilities. But…”

Wind

Wind

1.	air in natural motion, as that moving horizontally at any velocity along the earth's surface: A gentle wind blew through the valley. High winds were forecast.

2.	a gale; storm; hurricane.

3.	any stream of air, as that produced by a bellows or fan.

4.	air that is blown or forced to produce a musical sound in singing or playing an instrument.

[ENTRIES NOW CLOSED]

Jyoti Basera (116)

WindBent bamboos, flapping hay roofs, swaying eucalyptus and shivering shade trees. Unaffected tea bushes, excited barking dogs, cows rushing home and little girls gathering younger babies under tin shelters. Fishes jumping out of the pond, the lawn littered with falling amaltas, Buri our old maid scrambling to bring in the laundry while Mangal rushes to bring the cows and hens under shelter.

Tea pluckers hurry to get their baskets to the factory, their red cotton mekhelas flapping. There is salty lal cha brewing for them at the compound- a tanker full of it. There is frantic activity and suddenly I hear the bungalow start!! It shudders violently and the tin roof cracks…the wind is here.

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Free Woman (48)

Hope, the fountain of life, sustains me

Dreams, desires, curiosity propel me

People, time, inexperience, deter me

But hope the fountain of life sustains me

Where do you come in O lord?

With the breeze of luck

And the wind of chance

You maneuver me towards my Fate

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GSV(115)

"first breath through the wind pipe and journey started,and then all the seasons of life of my life were just an allegory of time and wind in juxtaposition.i was kid and that kite,and those paper made rockets were my wings to flutter in breeze.and those revolutionary days when i even challenged to change the direction of whirlwind, i laugh over it now..haha..and you can't guess how charismatic was that scene when i first met your mother on that windy day..so lovely..and how i fought all big blows; poverty,discrimination,corruption;like a warrior...still i feel i missed something...i dont know..i dont know what".;.Prakash took his last breath while talking to his son....wind chime was still tinkling in room..

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Purvi Ashar (85)

Let me stand right here
in the wings of this vehement wind
To be blown away
To be severed this way...

To be deafened by its sound
to be belittled by its power..

A self holding a self
Against this dust
Against this force

I shall fill the violent swirl
in my eye,
Sore my soul,
Ransack my space..

Let me stand right here
in the wings of this vehement wind...

After it's death
I shall bask in the calm
The beautiful calm that remains...

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Truth Dude (136)

the coleridge-bohemian

in the broken house
a stifled silence greeted him.
long stretches of blur
it's a life!

smoke up,
drink up,
live to die.

the growing sense of unease,
numbed down.

a functional dystopia
a life lived in a hurry
to get to the end.

to make another beginning
or so he thought.

the stifled silence screamed.

nothing moved.

bob said,
the answers were blowing in the wind.

nothing moved.

when you didn't ask the questions,
the answers didn't matter.

numbness
vegetative
insipid
a life to live.

and nothing moves.

day after day, day after day

we struck no breadth no motion,

as idle as a painted ship

on a painted ocean

water, water everywhere

and all the boards did shrink

water, water everywhere

nor any drop to drink

a wry smile plays.

tomorrow is another day.

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Richa Gupta(111)

The wind carries more than we can see

A little bit of this and a little bit of that

And it carries what makes you and me

Telling stories of men from the times gone by

Of great heroes, loves and wars

Of dying people yet a new born's cry

It carries the many secrets of lovers

Whispered words of forbidden trysts

Gently caressing it flutters and hovers

It carries within it the wisdom of old

Passing in a rustle or in a deadly blast

It can be life's warmth or death's cold

The wind hides more than we can know

But with all this weight of the world it carries

I wonder how it ever manages to blow!!

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Mandappa KC (105)

Would you let go? Would you quit your job?

Would you throw it all?

Would you give up all your money?

Just to hear the wind blow!

If I could promise that we would fly

We would sail away

Would you give up everything else you own

Just to hear the wind blow

Blue skies and misty mountain highs

Green drives and butterflies

Would you come away with me

Just to hear the wind blow

Chasing dreams, storms and blimey whims

Have it all the way you want

But you'd have to let go of your grown up ways

Just to hear the wind blow

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Mickey the Monkey (120)

"Wind some cloth dipped in oil over his tail" roared the Mighty King "and set it on fire". The demon brought a piece of cloth and started to wind over the Monkeys tail. The Monkey closed his eyes and smiled. His tail started to grow. "Bring more clothes", shouted the king. Demons kept winding cloths and his tail kept growing, till all the cloth of the city was wound over his tail. Someone then lit his tail. The Monkey jumped to the top of the palace. He invoked the Wind God, his father. Soon strong wind started to blow from all directions, and the fire spread like jungle fire. The City of Gold was reduced to ash in no time.

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Hummingnerd (76)

Like...

the rustling autumn leaves,
a flying kite broken from its strings,
crooked sails of broken fleets,
wandering among the waters
twisting and turning
within its own ways,
whistling, howling, rainy wind...

Took you away.

and you gladly went
leaving behind lingers of your scent,
I wish I could compete,
but, I live on the ground,
and I'm weak;
all I can do is, speak
And hope...

The wind would blow you my way, again !

Santonu (136)

When Nimish opened the window a cloudy still evening welcomed him. The fall has begun; the trees were all colored with yellow, red and green. Nimish came out from the house for a walk. Sumana was still sleeping. Nimish took a deep breath looking at her and then closed the door behind, the innocence had touched him. While walking on the streets he wondered its merely days before they are separated and smiled. Did he feel pain? He looked at the dark sky and felt the chilled droplets piercing his face. The wind started blowing as he closed his eyes only to find the face of sleeping Sumana on the bed, Nimish turned back towards home...the red maple leaves the clouds and the diminishing faith started flying with the wind. Its not going to rain today.

Dok Saab (120)

The air was still. Not a leaf moved. Sitting under the fig tree, he fidgeted with the dry twigs. Every few minutes he went to the field. Looking towards the western sky, he dropped a handful of earth. But there was no wind to blow away the dirt. Disappointed and sad, he went back to sit under the fig tree, waiting for the wind to blow. "Nikhil, come back, its getting dark", his mother shouted. He looked at the bright yellow and red kite lying on the roots of the fig tree, crisp and virgin, the spool of thread, untouched. Desperately he looked at the fig tree for any sign of wind. The air was still. Not a leaf moved.

Konfessioner Singh (120)

Have you heard clair de lune?

No, but I have felt it.

Like the wind?

He paused, surprised, but I continued…

… It has the same dip… the same rustle.

We were in love that day. That hour maybe, not that day. Our favourites were common, we wanted Rome, creeks, ever young green meadows with daisies and chestnut horses. The apple trees watched us and the sun smiled, sending warmth with wafts of early winter wind. And my cheek was red already…

But the young are never forever together. We bound across continents, sail coloured seas and sing new songs, sometimes remembering whom we have loved and what we have seen.

Yes, just like the wind indeed. Look at me.

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Sarang Mahajan (119)

When I was a kid, there lived a skinny dog and her puppy behind our house. The puppy was much like me, careless and playful… until the day a dog-van left the colony caging its anxiously silent mother. With her gone, the puppy changed. It shrank daily, and it hardly ever played with me. I wished someone took it along.

Then one day came a storm, which I was told blew tin-roofs and dropped them on the children. I slept listening to the wind howling outside, thinking and later dreaming of the puppy. In the morning, when I went outside, it wasn’t there anymore.

The wind, which had outwardly seemed so terrible, had pitied it and taken it along.

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