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Queue to Meet Rossetti and His Friends

Literary Nonsense

Walking in that old lane by the red house, who is that, oh, that is me. I turn left and bump into someone. Someone who happened to be a part of a long queue. Queue to meet Rossetti and his friends.

Don’t push, I said out loud, so that ten people before me and ten people after me could hear it. I said so in advance. And when the twenty some whispered, I shushed them.

*

Frontispiece: Rossetti in Childhood.
[Source – Wikipedia]
Rossetti’s Name Is Heard In America.
[Source – Wikipedia]

From the Frontispiece: Rossetti in Childhood to the last one, Rossetti’s Name is heard in America, I maintained the same attitude. I warned and shushed with an irresistible polite smirk on my face.

Walking in that old lane by the red house, who is that, oh, that is me. Allow me to bid goodbye now, I am in a rush, for those twenty some, god-knows-why, are following me.


Read about Rossetti and His Circle by Max Beerbohm here.


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Towards

Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ dared not to stop. For last time QJ couldn’t bear the pandemonium that started within when she dared to stop and nothing happened.

With fragments of that dollhouse in one hand and the key to its door in another, walking often becomes cumbersome and a dull routine.

Only lightning wakes QJ, though her afterthoughts always make an indelible note to herself to wake up before being struck. QJ later laughs loudly looking at her scars.

Lightning in full glory.
Image by Anja, from Pixabay.

Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ glanced at her umbrella. Tap! Tap! The umbrella changes its colour yet again, confusing its owner for a dash time.

Fill in the dash with a pleasant-sounding time period, a warm moment, and a lovely realisation. QJ wonders why she never tumbled while gazing up at the umbrella or the sky, maybe she should have stopped and asked the path.

Instead, QJ makes a funny face, fidgets, and gestures to no-one around her that… oops, she almost fell. Click! Train of thoughts leave a compartment at a station at this moment.

QJ ate dreams, but not the ones that came true. Work makes you hungry for more work, it makes you kind towards your dreams. And this is your prize.  

Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ is joined by the others. All assuming it strongly that everyone knows better than them.

QJ didn’t agree or disagree for hours full of ages and once upon a time when she did, they all left her immediately to follow someone else.

Just a mangy, horribly plump in the middle, slow dog stayed with QJ. It smiled (or didn’t), but those remaining teeth, all-dancing in opposite direction made her feel that every 21st-century disease, malady, sickness was represented by that slow dog.

Hell yeah! QJ cried for the dog didn’t die, but just slowed down further and sat on the path, resting, waiting. Hell lingers.

Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ thinks about faces, veneer in fashion, layers, surface deep dialogues, and her reactions.

A trap! Superficial flamboyant messages received and sent. Afraid of any change, she blindly accepts repetition.

Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ takes out an empty map and begins to draw.

Lines start to run and form a track. QJ retraces her steps and finds her first direction.  

Towards the first direction.
Image by Oliver Mbrax from Pixabay

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Sunflower Smile

Flash Fiction
The sunflower warmth just touched you.
Image from Pixabay.

Smile that sunflower smile, I love to see your beaming face, eyes closed and the rosy glow. Oh, come on! Remember those winters how we huddled to be in direct sunlight… warmth of the burning star touched our souls, and we smiled.

Peeping through the bushes, the sunlight always made me feel like I am in a photograph – yet to be taken.

While the tiny white daisies were busy decorating and tackling the mad wind, blushing, swaying and often taunting it for impeding their progress, the sunflowers stayed glued like a crayon drawing on the wall, letting the sun seep within.

Seeing the clouds approach, the sunflowers never trembled or rebuked the sky’s spongy friends… for the sunflowers could feel the presence of that warm burning star, part of it now stored inside them.

Maybe that’s why sunflowers’ signature reads ‘Forever’ rather than their glowing name. Oh, how lovely!  

Now just smile that sunflower smile, I love to see your beaming face, eyes closed and the rosy glow.

*

Smiling sunflowers and the gin-soaked hour.
Image from Pixabay.

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These Red, Blue Jeeps Are The Same Or Are They Not?

Absurd Prose
In Dharamshala, Himachal Pradesh, India.
Image by Aditya Thakur

The Red Jeep said to the Blue Jeep that it was late. What is the point of hurrying if you don’t know where you are going, replied the Blue Jeep.

*  

Sure the circle is round and the track is wide, beautiful vistas stretched within and beyond me, prints are taken, but the journey is not free. 

What is the price you ask? It is different for everybody. Though ultimately all agree to pay, and thus the journey begins. 

But someone must know where I have reached. This guy in blue safety helmet might reveal. 

Hey! Hey! Hey-hey! The man replied not, real the man was not, it was all plastic, just an image. It bounced off voices and that was enough for many. Still is.  

*

The Red Jeep asked the Blue Jeep that if it followed the echoes or not. What is the point of following an echo when you can’t hear your own voice, replied the Blue Jeep.  


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In Slo-mo Towards the Moon

Poem

A tide of thoughts.
[Source – Pixabay]

*

Walking towards the moon

In slo-mo and riding,

Hiding behind a tide of thoughts

In slo-mo, unaware, unconcerned

About the change that is happening

In slo-mo, now and always,

Carrying in bits the old me, turning

In slo-mo, hoping to see

Something better. Living the life

In slo-mo and looking into the future

Where things are picture-perfect, but moving

In slo-mo. Cracks in the present

For it isn’t that dear, until

In slo-mo I sit with patience and

Breathe, see, feel and realise

That everything is beautiful,

That our mind knows the tricks,

That reality simply is, just like the moon,

Towards which I am walking

In slo-mo, beaming quietly. 

*


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All

Haiku

This is you, deep within.
[Source – Pixabay]

*

Unattached, patiently, freely I go deep  

Within myself and find

That love can transform it all.

*


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“Only a few arrive at nothing, because the way is long.” – Antonio Porchia

Spirituality

A long journey!
[Source – Pixabay]

To keep walking is hard. Repeatedly dying on the way is a normal occurrence, but no less significant.

What breaks the heart often is not the crude world or a passer-by, but the heart itself. It allows itself to be crushed.

And as funny as it may sound, the truth doesn’t change that the heart also heals itself.  

Let us keep aside the magical part for it blindfolds the ones with sightless minds and talks about reason and logic.

Oh! But that is already done – heart breaks itself and heals itself… very straightforward indeed. Brain, heart, brain, heart… and this is the journey.  

Carrying on kills, but so does not-carrying on; carrying on also gives you a chance to live and to experience the universe. It is a long, long, long journey and then you reach nothing.  

At nothing, you become everything.


Read about Antonio Porchia, the Argentinian poet here.


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Moon, Moon, Moon, Moonlight

Cheers, dear moon!”
[Source – Pixabay]

In the search of a moon Haiku poem, I found how beautifully a 21st century poet addressed to his favourite classic poet –

*

… lifting my cup, 

I asked the moon

to drink with me …

Li Po

*

And if Li Po had

got the moon in his mitts

what would he have done with it?

Cid Corman

*

Today, I decided, I will stay with these words and leave rest of the search for tomorrow.

*

Moon was its usual self,

I was the one, lost and fuzzy,

Moonlight still showed the way.

*


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Not so Lonely Island / And I am with Jake

Literary Nonsense

Not so lonely island.
Image from Pixabay.

Me – Hey Jake, do you want some coconut water?  

Jake – No, I don’t want coconut water, I just had coconut water, how much coconut water can a man drink? (Pause) Okay, give me some coconut water.  

And so, I and Jake drank coconut water.


Me – Sand, sea-shells, sea-shores, ships, sharks… ‘S’… aren’t you playing Jake?

Jake – Seagulls, sea urchins and no, I am not playing.  

Jake’s not a spoilsport.


Me – Nightingale knows the night and knows the stars.

Jake – Of course, it does, it has been painted along. Painted all white, white in the night?  

A classical realist, just generally I mean, nothing to do with the international relations, that’s Jake.


Me – A word for me? Describing me? Like for you, I’d say… Hvorfor Ikke that is Danish for Why Not.

Jake – Hvorfor… that’s for you.  

I won’t flounder and hence, I am super quiet. Dead quiet.


Me – Time’s so slow! (Laughing) That’s my joke, Jake.

Jake – Seems more like a taunt. Here, quickly, burrow my watch in the ground.  

I took it and now it is in my pocket.


Me – Why so glum, chum?

Jake – Really? I have been yodelling for an hour. What’s wrong with you?  

My chum’s so caring.


Jake – I see a ship… hurry, light a fire, fireworks, burn everything, now…

Me – But we are out of firecrackers… I used them while you yodelled and I danced.  

Hey ya, my bad. Jake is all smiles.

Jake – No I am not, I am clenching my teeth. And… and stop adding these footnotes. I hate it!

Me – As you say, dear confidant.  

Jake is awestruck.

Jake – I am more appalled than anything else.

Me – But no one can tell… I know you want to keep my morale high. Wait, where are you going?

Oh, time for a stroll. This will be our 57thround around the island. Cool! Well, 57th or 59th?

Jake – (Talking to himself) God, kill me now.  

Jake’s praying, god, just fulfil his wish, whatever it is.

*

And I am with Jake.
Image from Pixabay.

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Two Blind Crows

Ra-ra’s famous window story.
[Image from Pixabay]

Ra-ra: Why did the window go SHUT… who closed it SHUT… my question is just HOW?

Ra-ra’s friend Coo stays quiet, looking absolutely nowhere.

*

  Ra-ra: S-H-U-T shut, right when I was about to pick my share and leave…  

Coo: I believe you, it has been so many years since you first told me this story.

Ra-ra: (astonished) Many years you say, gone nuts…? It happened an hour ago.

Ra-ra: Coo, this ain’t the time to argue.

Coo: A while? He died ages ago.

Coo: You’re standing fine, 900 years have passed.

Ra-ra: 900? I have come flying from the west port of Oraffa city just now.

Coo: Oraffa city? Hah! Blind dreams!

Ra-ra: How dare you? I can see very well… you can’t, you blind ugly funny-sounding bad crow!

Coo: I said blind dreams… didn’t call you blind.

Ra-ra: Oh, oh-my, then let me apologise.

Coo: For what? We are blind, the world knows it. Yet…

Ra-ra: Blind we are, yes, yes… very much… (mumbles).

Coo: I’ll complete my sentence… yet we are still alive.

Ra-ra: (flaps wings) Death sentence, I have been given a death sentence and yet I am alive.

Coo: Cool-cool yourself Ra-ra. We are together in this.  

*

Ra-ra starts sobbing, mumbles again.

  Coo: I am turning left.

Ra-ra: (softly) Left?

Coo: Turned.

Ra-ra: Wait for me!

Coo: Can’t.

Ra-ra: I think I also turned left unless it is the right, or it is somewhere in the middle, who knows.

Coo: Not me.

Ra-ra: (laughs) You’re funny!  

*

Both Ra-ra and Coo stand quietly. Coo speaks after some time.

  Coo: Hey Ra-ra, you never told me your famous window story.

Ra-ra: I didn’t? How come?

Coo: That’s the truth.

Ra-ra: Well, then listen… the window was SHUT before I could pick my share… someone just closed it SHUT…

*

The two blind crows talked facing what they thought was the left.

*

Two Blind Crows
[Image by Santa3 from Pixabay]

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