Hour Six (2017)

Shortest way home

I am looking for the shortest way home
while holding water in my hand.

Feelings grow mute,
calibrating the ratio of
agony : the wish to die.

To release the monolith of cares
is the beginning of understanding.

 

Note: This is a cut-up poem from various sources.

 

Hour Five (2017)

wielding magic

my inner child
teaches me the balance

between
holding on
and letting go

 

Note: This cherita is written in response to one of the images from the hour three prompt.

Introduction / Test post

Hello, everyone! 🙂 I’m Shloka from Bangalore, India. I am a freelance writer, editor, singer, and visual artist. This year marks my third Half-marathon and I’m eagerly looking forward to creating a fresh batch of poems. I hope to gather my tools and prompts by today (yes, at the nick of time) as things have been a little crazy at work. This is a date I am very much looking forward to! Wishing all my fellow marathoners the very best of luck! 🙂 Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/shloks89 

Winter Rains

The sky grows darker by the minute; streaks of white shifty and drifting into eternity. The scent of petrichor is the colour of earth and pewter, mixing thought with emotion. A sudden bolt of lightning alters my sense of self. A draft blows in from the open windows and my hairs stand on end, awaiting further instructions. I taste the rain in my mind and watch it claim every single thing in its way, drop by drop, shadow by shadow.

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