Burning

Burning

The sky burns bright blue at times
and the moon a dazzling nightmare
the sun blinding the charred flowers
enough to let them daydream of Spring

And now that Autumn has arrived
it sizzles the smouldering red leaves
that fall down like auburn rain

Molds are marking the weathered roofs,
though the sun burns through the windows
with the glass panes burning in icy lights

The raindrops on the balcony grills
burn like bubbles on boiling water
popping unabashedly to the touch of wind

My stove glared at me in anger
when I forgot why I put the empty pan
and let its feet burn for no apparent offense

Guess my thoughts are bubbling too
in my burning mind…silent and invisible
yet flaring inside unrestrained and wild –
everything’s burning as far as I can perceive

© 2022 Taruchaya

Fitting in

Fitting in

I look at the clumpy grumpy sky, trying to catch ahold of a cloud…
and think what fun it must be to float freely and grumble aloud.
But then it starts scaring me if I look down from the height, 
nothing to firmly keep my feet doesn’t really feel at all right.
What if I had very strong roots that could hold me to the ground
and let me branch out my arms to toss the clouds around?
What if I could play hide and seek with the sly stinging August sun
that steals water from the ponds and always seems to be on the run?
The clouds find their way back whenever the wind whooshes them away…
rooted to the ground, looking in awe, I watch them wilfully play.
I think perhaps it’s better for me to be right here where I am now.
Like a little piece of a looming puzzle, I fit in effortlessly somehow.

2022 ©Taruchaya. All rights reserved.

Tightrope

Tightrope

Greens are turning to earthen hues
Something seems ashen within the blues
Neither it is scorching nor too cold
The clouds seem begrudgingly old
The cobbled streets have leaves bestrew
That crumple under the feet with rue
I watch my confidant wither slowly away
In the autumn weather each passing day
My friend, the sturdy staunch sycamore tree,
Braves the seasons and stands tall for me
It’s leaves are turning yellow and brown
The colour of a fading lack lustre crown
Shedding what it can no longer bear to hold
Willing me to be better, brave and bold
And when it gets too heavy just let it go
It’s okay to pause and take it slow
Breathe out the dismay and inhale the hope
Life shouldn’t be like walking on a tightrope.

2022 © Taruchaya

Cynefin

Cynefin

Where the sky looks the bluest blue

and the grass grins the greenest green,

I wish to stroll on a cobbled path

somewhere in between.

Where the fragrance of carefree wildflowers

wafts happily in the air,

I want to soak in the pleasing scents

that gently caresses my hair.

Where the soft dandelion scatters away

travelling on a dragonfly’s wings

and reflect the rays of a pretty pink moon,

spreading the smile it endearingly brings.

©2022 Taruchaya. All rights reserved. Based on the prompt “Cynefin” by @poetry_earthlings

Cynefin(ku-nev-in) is a Welsh word which is commonly translated as a place where one feels they ought to live. Where nature around one feels right and welcoming.

Summer Reverie

Summer Reverie

the dizzy breeze fizzes in the heat
clouds hide in heaven’s shade
roses pant on their thirsty thorny seat
dandelions dance in the blissful glade
the sun loves summer the most
but the sky then summons all clouds
the thirsty grass rejoicingly raise a toast
when the clouds rush in… grumbling aloud
whenever I stare at the azure satin sky
i want to live those carefree days again
i want the wings of the dainty dragonfly
and dance in the misty summer rain

©2022 Taruchaya. All rights reserved.

Walk me home

Walk me home

strolling in sombre solitude
shying away from the staring stars
holding unto few hungover hopes
hovering over halo of healed scars
listening to the lyre of loneliness
lamenting on lessons of loss
yet counting the countless chances
and changes that came with a clause
feelings full of ignorant fallacies
frown upon the fulcrum of faith
while we whine and wearily wish away
the worrisome wordly weight
disguised under the dense darkness
demurely dazzles the dimpled moon
awestruck by the vast veil of velvety silver
the air veers vehemently to it’s vivacious tune
all I want is to wander with wonder
while the waxing moon walks me home
holding my haggard hand with care
hypnotically healing the hostile syndrome

©Taruchaya for poem and photo. All rights reserved.

Traces

Traces

How far does death bring closure?
Do unseen open wounds stop festering?
Does the vacuum left behind get filled
or memories cease their pestering?
Something in the sub-conscious mind
awakes with a jolt of flashbacks –
fading faces with unfading memories…
time long gone never loses it’s tracks.
Pain echoes through the soul…
phantom pain… invisible yet noticeable.
Once again you must quietly endure,
the storms that wrecked havoc undeniable.
We lose loved ones but not their traces
and move on clutching their memories tight.
Their signs, moments or recollection stay
like shimmering moon on a cloudy night.

©2022 Taruchaya. All rights reserved.

Hushed Conversation

Hushed Conversation

I wait till the darkest hour of the night
to slowly undress my heavy mind
and stand near the window of dreams
letting my naked thoughts bounce
recklessly from one dim star to another
while the moon lulls my thoughts to sleep
by stealthily draping around them
in delicate motions of motherly embrace
lullaby echoes through the stillness
stirring the adamant noises in the head
hush…it’s too late to keep thinking
about the “what was” and “what could’ve been”
for the quietness shakes a heavy heart
heartbeats ripple in and out… throughout
nothing stops…not even a pause
the hands of time hold only moments
but the mind clutches onto its memories
as I open the palm there are no surprises
nothing but zigzag lines are drawn
by the artist called Fate…hush…it’s too late
sleep while the night hums lost songs
of peace or pieces of shattered hearts
or were they broken dreams?
who could tell what lies in there
mind playing mind games
the whole universe in sync with its plan
hush…hear the silence…steal some sleep
from the rich sky of glittering diamonds
shadows shiver in the stillness of sights
close the eyes…before sunrise

©2022 Taruchaya

Clouds’ Embrace

Based on an IG prompt by @poetry_earthlings…”Clouds”

Clouds’ Embrace

Clouds rush to embrace the sun

as its too sad to stay bright.

Pretty soon it’ll start to cry-

something mustn’t be right.

It wants to pour it’s heart out…

complain why it’s destined to burn.

And rain all grief to the ground

as it never gets love in return.

Burning alone to give us hope,

letting us live in warmth and light.

Only clouds truly understand

the sad sun’s woeful plight.

When half of earth sees the light of day,

the other half drowns in the dark.

And earthlings pray to see a new sunrise –

the rays of hope or even just a spark.

The stars are tagged with many a dream.

The moon has its lovers pining all night.

None but clouds love the sun,

when it’s too sad to stay bright.

Photo/Video and Poem © 2022 Taruchaya. Do not repost without prior permission.