#3 (Bop) – My Flesh and Blood

“Mumma, when will you die?” she asks with

Innocence in her eyes and a smile on her lips,

“Can I keep your unicorn t-shirt as memory once you’re gone?

And sleep on your side of the bed?

I will cry so much Mumma,

When you die.”

 

Says my six-year-old daughter.

 

“Will you neck come clean off if

I pull it hard enough, or

do you need a knife to cut a neck?” she wonders,

“Do you think the bears ran after Goldilocks and

cooked her and ate her up for revenge? Also,

after you are dead, I will not leave you but

I’ll stuff your body and play with you,

like a doll!”

 

Says my six- year-old daughter.

 

“I like ghosts and ghouls and monsters,

and scary things that go ‘BUMP’ in the night,

Why won’t you show me those creepy movies mother –

With the zombies and vampires and weird looking dolls,

and darkness and blood and knives and ‘attackings’?

I love them all – just like you!

 

Says my six-year-old daughter.

 

-Prachi S

#2 – Recipe for Disaster

Handed down through generations,

This recipe is unique to each, yet gives similar results. Here’s mine –

Take a child, aged at least 4 years. Go for a 2-3 year old if you are feeling adventurous.

Begin with adding one strict work deadline.

Add a little bit of unfinished laundry and a dozen dirty dishes,

Mix the child with some candy/cake/chocolate (anything will do as long as it has sugar).

You will notice the mixture begin to bubble violently.

At this point, sprinkle a few Lego pieces for an extra punch.

Add a few swear words to taste, preferably muttered under the breath.

The mixture should be boiling now.

Immediately add some loud warnings, (the ‘1-2-3’ warning gives the best flavor) before the solution spills over.

The boiling  will reduce to simmering.

Your dish is ready.

Serve with a side of prayers and tired tears.

 

Works best if prepared at nighttime.

 

– Prachi S

#1 – Well Kept Secret

They gawk and gaze and fawn over her,

A famous face, never changing,

They click a million pictures, fly miles to see her,

And she just stares back, frozen in time.

 

She has stories and odes written to her,

There is no one who knows not her name,

She is in books, in songs, in our history,

Yet, she gives away nothing, making people wonder.

 

We speak her name,

Yet, her story remains elusive,

Was she royalty, a peasant,

Or a former lover?

 

She says nothing, sits demure in her frame,

Simple, innocent, a secret, an enigma,

The only clue –

a mysterious smile.

 

-Prachi S

 

Hi!

Hi. I am Prachi from India and this is the first time I am participating in this marathon. I am so excited! I began my writing journey with poetry during a trying time of my life and I have been writing ever since. I have always been inclined to the traditional rhyme scheme and it is only recently that I have come across the modern ways of writing poetry and I can’t wait to try it myself! I have realized in the past few months that although I love this art form, I don’t have much knowledge regarding it and this marathon will give me an excellent opportunity to read all the different styles.

Cheers! 🙂