Tag: DPchallenge

  • The snowman

    I

    A slight chill graces the air
    As the leaves of fall mingle and fly away
    Riding the mischievous wind.
    Showers of white slowly appear
    And the air is now wispy, cloudy
    As the sleet covers
    The previously grassy lawn
    In a blanket of sparkling frost.
    A little child, bedecked in wool
    And armed with mittens, and determination
    To craft, nay sculpt,
    Something in her own likeness;
    A mother at such a young age.
    Her tiny hands get to work
    Scooping and molding,
    Setting and resetting
    Fixing and rebuilding.
    And thus I am born
    Where there was previously naught;
    A product of frozen vapor
    And the love of my creator.

    II

    The season grows
    I get bigger, and so grows my mother
    She clothes me in rags
    And old buttons
    As if I needed protection
    From my very element.
    Oh, and did I mention
    That atop me
    She placed an old top hat that brings
    A kind of class to a frozen relic.
    I stand in the yard, with a charcoal smile
    Below a carrot nose,
    Slightly slunk
    And with two shrunk hands
    Holding my clothing
    Around my rotund belly;
    I feel quite ready to go to the prom.

    III

    Months go by, I stand in wait
    And I look at the joy
    This world has to offer
    Kids playing in the snow
    A lover’s quarrel,
    They kiss and make up
    In the dim light of the moon
    And the sparkle in her eyes
    Says she knows it all.
    I know no hurt, no pain
    As the neighbor’s dog
    Goes around its business
    In my wake,
    Whose curiosity never killed a cat
    But it sure tickled a snowman.

    IV

    The air is warm with the spring in step
    And the leaves begin to sprout
    On the bare backs of barren trees.
    I know what this means for me
    My time has come.
    My time has come, to go back
    To where I started from
    My home in the sky
    A watery mist
    I see my mother for one last time,
    As she sees her son melting away,
    The water from my mortal body
    Transferred into a teary glint in her eyes.
    I will leave behind my mortal remains,
    My top hat, rags, charcoal smile
    A whole host of memories;
    As I fade away, a product of frozen vapor
    And the tears in my mother’s eyes.

    © 2014 Mihir Kamat

    In response to this week’s writing challenge: Ice, Water, Steam

  • Sparkle

    ring-in-a-box

    She glitters on, unfazed at the touch
    of human skin; as he mulls holding her with
    jittery fingertips. He wonders
    what a hole she would make in his pocket,
    yet considering she would be totally worth it.
    She looks around, scoffing at her peers;
    they can only stare back, green with envy
    for she carries that crystal, that chunk of ‘ice’
    fit only for the hand of a queen.
    She spends a quiet moment on her silky berth,
    made of scarlet felt and velvet soft,
    as she preps herself for the big moment;
    for when the teary eyed, gorgeous dame
    beholds meekly her ravishing beauty
    and then looks back at the babbling fool,
    who now holds her hand, trembling, unsure;
    simply willing to trade one beauty away
    to have and hold another for life.

    © 2014 Mihir Kamat
  • The crush

    The boy focused his eyes at the empty arch staring back at him. With every twist and turn of its ornate stone, it spoke to him of the days gone by. Barely twenty-one, he felt like his scrawny arms had shouldered the weight of the world.

    It came to him as if it were yesterday. He was just another fresher dotting the ground floor of his college, some four years ago. His lifelong dream of getting an engineering degree was just getting started. He looked around to find a lot of fresh faces, some of which he’d get to know shortly.

    He remembered his first day at class; trying to keep his eyes open while concentrating on the teacher droning away the laws of Thermodynamics. Sixty others around him might have been feeling the same way, but none made it plain. The ceiling fan seemed more interesting that what might have been going on in front. He looked around the class to spot his colleague, a young girl, sitting one bench away to his right, and drifting away in the background. Her head oscillated in her stupor, conscious enough to keep away from the edge of the table, and dazed enough to be swaying away to the boring lullaby recited in front. He saw the seat next to her empty and jumped ship while the teacher had his head turn. He put a chubby book under her chin while her head troughed and it settled cleanly as it made contact. That was it, lights out. In that instant he’d made a friend, a friend he’d assisted sleeping in class.

    He’d never had a friend who was a girl before. Blame it on the convent schools, which had separate branches for boys and girls while he grew up. The experience was new, fresh. He’d never known what it meant to hold a girls hand, to look at her in a different light, or to begin and end his day with her, but within a year, he’d done it all. He’d met someone who’d smell extraordinary, who’d dress differently, like diverse things, and one who’d enjoyed his company. All he knew was that she made him smile and he liked taking care of her.

    As the folded paper cups of coffee piled on an already cluttered desk full of five-pound books, one would make out that exams were near. The gloom and doom that surrounded hours of poring through dreary textbooks and meaningless reference guides was starting to sink in. The elevator rides spent in reading and revising anecdotes captured in a previous class. The facial expressions conveying words of wisdom right before a spot quiz. The manner they’d complete each other’s sentences. The way they’d point to the same thing and giggle. The way she’d suck on a lollipop and force him to do so in front of everyone, and he would risk it all doing so willingly. In every moment spent in each other’s company. In every examination conquered with excellence. In every second that passed, he grew warmer to the girl that made him feel different.

    Every second passed, right across these now vacant halls.

    He couldn’t help but shed a tear. He recalled that day, their last day together. He’d held her hand as she’d checked out her result. She had passed, and he had too. Yet somehow, the music faded in the mist. For her the journey ended there. She had agreed for marriage, an arranged marriage, a week after her graduation. He held her hand as she broke this news to him, shaking with excitement. He felt his heart sink deep into his stomach, wrenching his gut, as a tornado would leave its victims. He decided to do nothing but smile, because he couldn’t explain what he was feeling, or why he was feeling that way. He could only watch as she placed her hand on his head, smiling and asking him to keep in touch, but he knew it would never happen.
    The boy focused his eyes at the arch right in front of him. He sees a boy and a girl laughing, looking much younger than he remembers. With a blink of an eye, the duo looks back at him, their eyes imploring him to look beyond the emptiness left behind. He’d known now the hard way what it meant like to lose a friend. What it meant like to have a crush.

    What it felt like to fall in love.

    © 2014 Mihir Kamat

    Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.
    Image courtesy of Cheri Lucas Rowlands.

  • Sipping coffee

    Sipping coffee

    The first ray of morning sunlight creeps into the room through dusty window panes, fragmenting the light that it allows to pass. The floorboards are rickety, with the eerie creaks getting louder as a furry rodent scurries lightly across the hallway. The fresh smell of varnish on the oak sideboard heightens the senses, and plays with my sense of smell. Browns, blacks, and grays; the colors of time gone by surround me, and as I pass them by, I am hit by a weird sense of nostalgia.

    It’s six a.m., and the kitchen is filled with musty smells and I get a putrid hit of food rotting in the dustbin. I see a chubby rat feasting on the remains of last night’s meal, which almost feels like a grand spread for the little critter. It’s still dark outside; I throw a light switch to illuminate the room, revealing the mess of dishes strewn across the sink. I’ll deal with those later, I decide, for I had important things to tackle first.

    The pot of coffee lies neglected in the file cabinet, where I’d put it after brewing my morning cup yesterday. I take it in my hands, inspect it, and verify that it is clean to my liking. I fill it up to the brim with tap water, place it gently on the stove and turn on the heat. I rub my eyes as I watch the water, calm at first but slowly disturbed as the slow heat does its thing. The water simmers over the flame, carefully and wishfully, as if it was trying to savor every moment it was on the stove. The calm soon ends as the water comes to a feverish boil. It’s time to put in the coffee, I think to myself, as I scoop a generous helping of the brown powder into the pot of boiling liquid. The smell wafts, and teases my nostrils as I add in the sugar and milk. My body feels wide awake, and my senses are whet by the sweet smell of my coffee. I feast on the visual grandeur that is my cup – the milky brown elixir now topped with a dollop of cream swirling on top of its surface. I indulge my taste buds as I sip on the magical concoction, feel the warm and bitter tinge at the back of my tongue, savoring the mild sweetness and gentle creaminess of its additives.

    I realize that the greatest joys in life could be really simple. I’m now ready to tackle whatever life throws at me today.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat

    Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.

  • Diamonds

    Diamonds

    A golden circle;
    Studded brilliance holds
    Tiny, lone crystals

    Your melted heart speaks
    As light shimmers through many
    Broken window panes;

    Those glowing rocks just
    Scatter radiance beyond me
    Why those tears?

    Our breaths unite
    As the distance closes down
    To nothingness now

    And all I can see
    Your eyes speak like diamonds;
    Love is in the air.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat

    Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.
    Photo courtesy of desktopnexus.com.

  • Breadcrumbs

    Breadcrumbs

    Silent graves seem left behind
    Where flowers sit on dusty berths
    Mere markers in the sands of time
    Trying to prove all their worth

    So quiet, the winds keep passing by
    Right from the early, break of dawn
    The hope that fills the heart alike
    May not see the first light of morn

    They once unleashed the dogs of war
    Many years ago, men died in pain
    The rivers they ran red with blood
    And crimson skies bled through the rain

    So much mistrust lay in their minds
    And hatred deep within the heart
    Maybe that’s why those towns are empty
    And broken bridges, blown apart?

    Who won the war? How do we know?
    How do you prove who was just?
    All it did was left behind
    Breadcrumbs fallen in the dust

    But maybe there’s a lesson here
    They may not have all died in vain
    For peace may just be a meager breadcrumb
    Until we learn to love again

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat

    Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.
    Photo courtesy of judith.deviantart.com, modified by Mihir Kamat.

  • X marks the spot

    X marks the spot

    A slight chill teases the air
    Behind a veil of silken mist
    Carelessly the trees they sway
    Dancing in the velvet breeze
    Each moment ticks away so fast
    Faster than your eyes may blink
    Gorgeous, sparkling in the fire’s glow. I wonder
    How they look so beautiful, so pretty
    In the meager light as I gaze upon them;
    Just stare in amazement at your face,
    Knowing not how I’d spend
    Life without you. Not even another
    Moment need pass by without you by my side.

    Needless, my words are now as my heart is
    Open, my eyes connected with yours. I try to
    Place my index finger on your
    Quivering lips; I know you
    Realize what I’m about to do, as I
    Show you this ring – I want to make you mine forever.

    Trembling, I hold your hand
    Unsure of how you would react as I ask
    Very slowly, if you’d marry me; each syllable making me
    Weak in the knees. I watch your lips closely, right there –
    X marks the spot.

    Yes! Validation at last as I see that beautiful smile
    Zigzagging all over your face. One I love more than life itself.

    I’m on cloud nine.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat

    Inspired by today’s Daily Prompt – A-Z
    Image courtesy of Google.

  • In retrospect

    In retrospect

    The moment has passed
    That one you’ve been
    Waiting all your life;
    Your moment of truth
    Your chance to achieve greatness
    Your shot at eternal glory
    Or a final attempt to find yourself.

    But the moment has passed.
    You tried your best
    But it wasn’t good enough;
    Not what you expected
    You’ve clearly missed your mark.
    No glory
    No greatness
    No fame.
    Another name bites the dust.

    You try searching for a rewind button
    To make it all go away
    The pain
    The madness
    The ifs and buts
    The could be’s and would be’s
    But you can’t find it.
    Your time is up,
    The moment has passed.

    Now all that’s left
    Is the twilight of the past
    And vivid memories
    Stories of days gone by
    Experiences to forget
    Or simply learn from.

    Here is your rewind button.

    When in retrospect,
    Choose wisely.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat

    Inspired by today’s Daily Prompt – Retrospective

    Image courtesy of iwallscreen.com
  • There’s always hope

    There’s always hope

    He keeps a picture of his wife
    Finding comfort in her eyes
    Their marriage ended long ago
    His friends kept saying, “I told you so”

    But he laughs it off with a candid smile
    ‘Coz he still wants to reconcile
    Even though he’s on a slippery slope
    He’s hanging on because there’s still hope

    The waitress at the coffee shop
    She serves a hundred; daily, non-stop
    But every day her mind still lingers
    She only wants to be a singer

    Her day will come, she tells herself
    As she keeps the cups upon the shelf
    She holds on tight to all her hope
    Maybe greatness is still within her scope

    The runner holds aloft his beer
    A broken knee once ended his career
    One day he was right at the top
    He felt like he would never stop

    But the crushing blow, much to his grief
    Stole everything like a greedy thief
    Yet his spirit still lies with the game
    Finding comfort, all the same

    Hope is naught but a silken thread
    For one day you’re alive, and another dead
    There may be good waiting in the wings
    A golden day for better things

    So don’t lose heart; don’t forget to breathe
    There’s more to life than what lies beneath
    And on days when it gets hard to cope
    Don’t fret my dear, there’s always hope!

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat
    Image copyright of Mihir Kamat.
  • A book of faces

    A book of faces

    I decided to take the edge off of this week’s writing challenge and turn it into something fun – a piece of poetry. I personally feel Facebook is a great forum for people to connect and share what they think online. It’s definitely great to have a social network around that will let you do a lot of cool stuff and hang out with friends and family who are far away geographically. People can get carried away with what they post and there could be security hassles, but you can’t take away the fact that it helps bring people closer.

    Enough of the serious stuff. Time to enjoy some poetry. I call it “A book of faces”.

    A book of faces

    I travel through this book of faces
    A mix of time and many places
    I come across a lovely smile
    It makes me ponder for a while

    That tickle of a funny joke
    Or the childishness of a friendly poke
    A birthday wish that warms the heart
    Or hearty hope for a brand new start

    Some witty puns, a clever status
    A post from a friend after a long hiatus
    A photo from a summer day
    Or a note to mark a holiday

    A movie reel; a song I like
    Or an adventure video from your latest hike
    A cup in hand; you feel like a winner
    Or just showing off your chicken dinner!

    Playing cards or throwing sheep
    Or growing onions in your sleep
    Laugh aloud to a brilliant gag
    Or find yourself on a photo tag

    You love or hate it; it’s all a choice
    To me it’s where I find my voice
    It may be a fad or a compelling obsession
    To like or not to like; that is the question.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat

    Inspired by this week’s mind the gap challenge. Image courtesy of Google.