Hour 11. Nether worlds of Hinduism

Scary is the inferno of Dante so you fear to sin but the nether worlds of Hinduism denote not hell Seven are they in number, verily known as Atala, Vitala, Sutala, Talatala, Mahatala, Rasatala and Patala The lowest level is Patala the abode of great…

Hour 9. See How They Run

Running all over the house as a young child without any rhyme or reason Running aftera ball or a doll as an older child. Running after a lover as young adult Setting up a house running after money house,car, education, learning, fame As the body…

Hour 8: Daily Ritual

Spiritualism and Religion are two sides of same coin yet neither depends on the other Know I not if God exists but I do know Spiritual thoughts have prevailed over millennia. Simple cow farmers of ancient India held lofty thoughts And propounded them in words…

Hour 7: Around me

Words fail me when I look around me Am I dead? am I in heaven? I am on the snowy banks of a lofty mountain range Clad but in a flimsy robe weaved of dreams Yer feel I not the biting cold but a comforting…

2023:12 – This marathoner’s finish line!

closet haibun I didn’t grow up on Privet Drive, in fact I didn’t get to visit that house until much later in life – however I did have a closet of my own. It wasn’t under the stairs, however, it was hidden in so many…

2023:11 (posted late)

dark and inviting, mysteries await the brave — is this another monoku, maybe a monostitch? it’s poetry anyway! I wrote this using the image prompt for hour 11.

Forever

Hour 2 My first memory of friendship First memory of joy First memory of togetherness And also first memory of rivalry   He is only one and a half younger My brother, much ahead of me He always makes me wonder by his talks He…

2023:10

a greek tragedy begin your poem with a metaphor that drips like honey from the comb – sweet words make for saucy whispers, in the darkest folds of night – especially when they come from something sharp i taste the colors of the sky at…

2023:9

(a nonsense poem) carry lightbulbs like ideas in your jacket pockets, spill your cinnamon-colored tremors over your elbow, and down through history – harvest beets that stain your fingers red, and make music in the carport that the elk will echo for all eternity… a…

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