tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48693342003961153062026-02-23T23:19:55.537-08:00PadmaShree, Sri Jayanta Mahapatra once said,"There is something in me that refuses to die. It’s there, somewhere deep inside me perhaps. And this is poetry." The genesis of POETICbug was thus an act of unleashing the curbed thoughts in the form of poems. POETICbug,says, "I praise; I dare; I invoke care; You write, recite my glory; I am, Poetry." -Taking forward the spirit of poetry ! Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.comBlogger156125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-39825585449684615302017-06-11T21:16:00.000-07:002017-06-11T21:45:25.746-07:00

Look out from your little space, where you feel you own it all. Walk around, not to inspect; Say "Hi", exchange a smile, Don't just nonchalantly walk away. Read a name and know them, Not just by their email or photo id, It's okay if you don't remember their name right, A gesture, a friendly one is enough. Don't just make them feel special, when there is a deadline sitting tight, Or for another

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-3386990801113217542016-03-28T07:30:00.000-07:002019-02-07T20:33:32.719-08:00

The sun was lazy today, Yawning to the cool morning breeze, Cuddled up in the lap of the pregnant clouds, Still trying to shine bright. As the water broke, The clouds came rushing down, Bringing with them the hue of spring, Leaving behind the pleasant petrichor. Sitting in the moving bus, With empty seats as co-passengers, Nostalgia just hugged me tight, Kissing me with memories old. In

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-34134496632917541242016-03-20T21:05:00.000-07:002018-08-17T14:48:59.146-07:00

It was Christmas and news from the hospital so rapidly appeared, Grandpa was better and his bed was being prepared. Our happy faces waited for his return, but~ He came wrapped in a white cloth, carried by his sons. In a moment the house broke down, his glass of ‘Horlicks’ spilled on the floor. Someone held Grandma tight while I stood near the pillar overseeing all. It seemed like a design of

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-60998646959459000292016-02-22T07:00:00.000-08:002016-03-20T21:07:01.616-07:00

Today - What do I eat? In such sorry state of defeat, When that which cooks in my kitchen, Not just feeds, But draws the crowd, indeed, Shrouded by a herd believe, No reason, No discussion, Who promote, It’s fine to take an eye for an eye, And preach that is divine. Today - How do I walk? With a regressive thought In a progressive mind, And go digital, worldwide, While by-lanes of reality

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-2026301621507502382016-02-21T08:54:00.000-08:002016-02-21T11:51:46.669-08:00

Poses, pouts and random looks, Lighting, shades and a million hues, Modes, effects; all settings on, I am ready for the click, Go selfie, go on. So engrossed already in self, Like brimming with obsessiveness, Add to that a selfie dear, I am all too virtual, My poses check list is clear. “Could you click a photo please?” “Oh! Sure, why not! Say cheese.” These smiling small talks, Sound so rare

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-21160628407173072872015-12-12T11:44:00.000-08:002015-12-12T11:44:23.839-08:00

I held the 2 by 2 inch cloth in front of me,Just like David stood triumphant over Goliath, It blocked the glaring Sun, teasing my eyes, We may be in harrowing times so often in life, The hunch of fear on our back, Pulling us down on the knees, We hope for a saviour in hapless surroundings, And forget there is a David in all of us, Holding the 2 by 2 inch cloth, To block the Sun and fight

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-50930606603649931232015-11-09T11:30:00.000-08:002015-11-09T22:38:17.494-08:00

Submitting this post to #MondayMusings - 9th November 2015 As I watch the world, From my room today, I see a tiny shoe under ashes, A blackboard dripping blood, I hear cries, loud and deafening, Pristine souls preyed upon, What I see the most is? Morality, stripped naked, While cowardice smirks us all, This day is evidence of, When “Shame” as an epitaph is written on humanity’s tomb. Every day

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-68078680380976035182015-11-07T00:00:00.000-08:002015-11-18T20:38:12.587-08:00

This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 57; the fifty-seventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​Madhu Vajpayee, the author of Seeking Redemption and Shades Publications, the publisher of Friendship- Bonds Beyond Time. I speak of my miseries, Like it is difficult to bear. I share my sorrows, Like that is

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-60551279887593396962015-10-28T19:36:00.000-07:002015-10-30T07:13:29.640-07:00

  This week's Blog-A-Rhythm prompt is the image you see here. Sand, hand and the beach, A classic combination to dreams, Building castles or bunkers, Minds working on their hunger; Hunger to achieve. Sand, hand and the beach, A trip to relaxation for each, Away from mundane dramas, In nature's lap to breathe; Breathe in sanity. Sand, hand and the beach, A rendezvous with "me", After the

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-60889378713755076282015-10-10T01:00:00.000-07:002015-10-16T19:54:50.972-07:00

This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 56; the fifty-sixth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. Like any other mundane Monday morning, Boredom heavy on my shoulders, Legs resisting the walk till the bus stop, I board the everyday crowded bus. Taking the window seat as usual, I sip in, a little of the fresh breeze. She comes and

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-56982614205571220212015-09-11T13:45:00.000-07:002015-09-11T13:45:39.434-07:00

This is the moment, I wish to tear myself Let that knotted blob of emotions Ooze out of me. This is the moment, I lacerate skin deep To eradicate from within Every ounce of that pain. This is the moment, I scream, shout loud To vacate a space in my brain For calmness to rent. This is the moment, I am awake, alert Of myself, And my being. This is the moment, When my failures inspire No

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-81767201961449847572015-08-27T07:25:00.003-07:002015-08-27T09:07:51.427-07:00

TWEET this! What do I do ? In a world full of you, who disagrees to agree, with every thought that is free. Free like the ; freedom to say what I say, to care or not to care, to own that space in the world, where I can write my name in bold, to break a frame of me, to be and just let be, to ride on the smoke of a bike, then fly hinged to a kite, to type, retype and erase, that which I dislike

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-78502937920096257282015-08-15T06:07:00.001-07:002015-08-18T01:21:05.269-07:00

This post has won the Blogadda WOW badge. There's a mountain somewhere that waits for a path, There's a river that urges to clean her dirt, There's a land, parched long to crop, There are hands stretched forward in hope, There's a border always on fire, There are riots within that never retire, There's a town congested in her smoke, There's a cyclone awaiting to choke, There's a stampede

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-42277624291456144092015-08-03T02:27:00.000-07:002015-08-18T13:11:04.624-07:00

  Luck smiles on, in a charm; What more you want? Instead have believe. Perseverance to strive, Unabashedly sanguine, Even on wretched ship, looks fine. Just like this, an artisan's sculpture, Sculpt a life yourself sans luck's charming smile. The form of this poem is ETHEREE(Forward). It has an interesting play of syllables in each of the 10 lines giving the poem its structural appeal.

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-48318591886960586252015-07-28T00:28:00.001-07:002015-07-28T21:22:30.265-07:00

There are souls that ignite minds,Giving wings to fly, above and high, Shining bright as they live along, In simplicity their kind dwell, Hoarding aspirations, Achieving goals, Inspiring the common as they soar, When they walk beyond the horizon, To those lands far, far away, They leave behind their success trail, And a legacy for us to emulate. (A humble Tribute to one of the most loved

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-36168343679993168942015-07-21T23:25:00.000-07:002015-08-06T21:55:24.862-07:00

Chit chatter, whoop, screech, We come in a group, hanging on trees, Dancing and jumping on branches together, Babies holding onto their mothers, “Naughty little troop” is our name, We love playing so many games. Brown round bodies, hands and feet, A long winding tail; bananas we eat, We love each other and live in a pack, Just like you, we also laugh, So, now do you know, “Who am I?” Think a

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-10806067494068184902015-07-07T08:00:00.000-07:002015-07-07T10:41:54.034-07:00

In the large open veranda of my old house, A tree stood beautifully tall. Chirping gleefully on it, little brown birds there were, Swiftly flying and hoping around, “Noisy little creatures”, My grandpa would shout. In some nooks and corners, Or branches of that tree, They built their home. Come evening, they would all be gone. Time moved on and I moved out, Leaving behind the brown birds and my

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-55874298615350210762015-07-02T11:18:00.000-07:002015-07-02T11:18:57.206-07:00

With a pearl white background, The bright blue lilies adorn well, Then on the side, at the edge of the vintage wooden fence, The blue bicycle rests. A series of shades of blue – light; dark; navy; sea; cobalt; teal; azure; and the classic denim, Hang from the clothesline. Since yesterday no one picked them up, And I am happy no one did, For these shades add colour to my blue mood. I sit on

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-77533456782501318102015-06-28T01:11:00.001-07:002015-07-01T05:53:29.330-07:00

This post is selected for the Tangy Tuesday picks (June 30th, 2015) by Blogadda. Losing self and esteem that holds me strong I trudge through the right and many wrongs Visit memories where there was confidence in abundance To know how I survived moments that choked me to breathlessness; I want that Bold me, Again. This poem form is ETHEREE(Reverse) which I learned very

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-50344277877667794602015-06-17T22:28:00.000-07:002015-06-27T09:48:29.707-07:00

This post is selected for the Spicy Saturday Picks (June 27, 2105) by Blogadda. To the beauty of the ladybug, A leaf stares awestruck, Each day to express his love, He waits for the sun at dawn, Clad in serenity when she walks, He gasps; no words fall, Another sleepless night goes by, Wandering in her thoughts, The leaf decides his final call, To express thy love to the ladybug, So when she comes

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-2920718605930344702015-06-07T15:09:00.001-07:002015-06-07T15:10:20.602-07:00

What’s divine? A conscious belief or Forced tradition, May be an eternal argument, Of HIS existence and beyond, I know not of the power, Because I'm touched by the love, Not in exchange; in exchange of, Incense sticks, prayers; Candles, promises; Or fasts and flowers; Rather unconditional. I speak of THEE, to THEE, like a friendly bond, Sharing and accusing, The little nothings and everything,

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-16785837153488271002015-05-29T01:12:00.000-07:002015-06-01T23:05:13.376-07:00

A bite into its juicy fibrous body, Your taste buds are excited, with the strike of sweetness, so royal. Your nonchalant pleasure, Trickles down from the corner of your mouth, Sweltering heat, no time to bother. The aroma itself is enchanting, Draws you cunningly towards itself, No matter what resistance comes. Until each strand of its flesh, Has consumed your appetite, And soaked your soul with

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-77647437874143075432015-05-20T13:41:00.000-07:002015-05-27T22:45:20.265-07:00

Early morning when sleep is still comfortable on your bed, She comes down with her armour and shield, A broom in her hand and a basket to collect the dried leaves, Smoothly, she sweeps the road and side-walk too, All this, for a petty pay and some food. You get up in your lazy mood, Call her for that extra work, And when she is done and dusted through, You wait her up for tea and rusk. You

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-4669743255002458252015-05-16T03:51:00.000-07:002015-05-18T11:21:21.733-07:00

“I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night” I so agree with this beautiful quote by Sarah Williams. I sometimes wonder is light the solution for darkness or just the absence of darkness? If that was the case then we would not fear when there is light. But we do. And if light was a solution to darkness, the Creator would have never brought night so beautifully after the day

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869334200396115306.post-44796110865178001322015-05-12T00:05:00.000-07:002015-05-12T00:13:33.589-07:00

I desperately scribble on the paper, As if it would write something onto itself, I barely get a line completed, All I want is to escape this block, This block in my mind; in my life, Where stagnancy has become permanent, A hurdle after every inch of movement, Every time I start afresh, The same confusion bites again, The gap between the two questions, What should be done? What I want to do?

Salvwi Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16919775700677599764noreply@blogger.com6