I Made Clouds Today

I made clouds today,
floating from the tip of my
digital nib.
Drew them on a tablet
and painted
as I watched the screen.

I wanted the clouds
to be fluffy
like cotton candy.
Of course I can’t eat them.

I made clouds today-
blue sky and white clouds,
soft like furs of
the stray kitten.

I made clouds today.

A New Planner: A New Year Poem

What a trouble it is,
a new year
for the first few days.
My hands so accustomed
to the old date –
writes it unconsciously all over.
A few months
and it is a habit
until another year comes by.

What does a change of calendar do
but make me feel older,
a little nervous of the passing time
that I seem to capture
in my daily planner.

I must now go buy a
new one, least I forget
the meetings scheduled
for this year.

A new year means many things,
a new planner and it’s cost
is the first it brings.

___

I’ve been wondering for a few days what post should I make for 2021. How should I wish you a Happy New Year for the year it has been. I am out of words. All I want to do is bask under the morning sun as the cold seeps away from my cold feet and hope that everything will be better soon. I hope you take some time to bask in the sun yourself as you feel the sun rays over your skin and realize that it’s magic. Other times I have been trying to buy a new planner, the correct size I am yet to find. And thus, a planner poem instead. Hope you enjoyed.

Happy New Year.

Scattered

You find yourself
scattered –
across time, across place,
in the leaves of trees you’ve visited,
or the words scribbled in
walls, real and digital.

Every piece
is complete on it’s own,
and yet when they come together
they make you more you than you.

So you begin
this journey
to find your pieces
that you’d kept
in various places,
just to be safe
for times when the
ocean comes storming
because of the wind.

Weeping Times

It begins from somewhere,
a memory, a statement, a voice.
And the tears come gushing in
like maddening storm to an otherwise
perfectly solemn time.

Weeping times, they are
of things that cannot be changed,
of things that aren’t accepted.

We cry for these, don’t we?
Everything else falls in between.

So, my friend, when was the last time
you had tears in your eyes?
Were they of joy
or of pain?

Weeping times, like these, my friend.