Minakhi Misra

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  • Drink water, my friend

    I wonder if the fairy tale,
    Where mermaid turns her mermaid tail
    Into two human appendage,

    Which feel impaled by thousand knives
    With every step of grounded stride
    And every second’s idle life,

    Is just a warning tale about
    The pains of leaving water out
    Of daily diet, getting gout.

    June 25, 2022

  • My Muse eloped with passing Time

    “I’ll come to you in half an hour”,
    Was what she told me every hour.
    She asked me why I did not help
    My mother clean the dusty shelves
    And pick the fallen shiuli pods
    And stitch the garlands for our gods
    And check finances yet again
    And clean the clogging washroom drain
    And boil the cups of lemon tea
    And buy some better fitting tees
    And entertain that sudden guest
    And join him on his scheming quest
    And listen to complaints all day
    And nod my head this way that way
    And work and talk and eat and rest
    Before arriving at my desk.
    But even at this midnight hour
    She tells me, “Yes, yes. Half an hour.”

    June 24, 2022

  • Forever Lullaby

    So much depends on waking up
    And knowing you have woken up.
    It’s commomer to open eyes
    To manufactured dreamy lies
    Repeated everywhere you see,
    Incepting deficiency.

    By reinforcing shame and fear
    With ads unnaturally clear,
    We steal your powers to question, doubt,
    Your time and space to figure out
    The things you have, the things you need,
    Penumbras of your growing greed.

    We call this theft a service done
    To help you choose our chosen one,
    Thus freeing up your precious hours
    That you can spend on watching stars
    Who twinkle on your OLED screens
    And show you all your neighbours’ dreams.

    June 23, 2022

  • Rise

    It’s okay to be scared, alone,
    But not okay to overwrite
    Your every single line of love
    With frenzied, foolish, futile fights.

    It’s okay to be full of flaws,
    To feel inadequate, ashamed,
    But not okay to throw away
    The solemn promise you proclaimed.

    It’s okay to repent at night,
    To cry, submit your will, and pray,
    But not okay, upon the dawn,
    To not atone again today.

    June 22, 2022

  • “Positive Thinking saved my Life”

    “A silver lining”, “brighter side,” —
    The fragrances of fairy fart —
    Are great for textbook moral science,
    Or even fortune cookie lines,
    But spare me those on Monday morns
    When all I see is pending work
    From people taking happy hours
    A bit too early Friday last.
    My mind is not a clear pond.
    The shit they’ve dumped is bobbing on.
    The water’s gray with moldy green.
    In it, the only good I’ve seen:
    A Narcissus won’t smile, but frown.
    Won’t fall into himself and drown.

    June 21, 2022

  • I’ll do it, but…

    I’ll take your sweetened holy ash
    Prescribed to me by horoscope,
    To swallow what is left of me
    In bitter shots of espresso.

    The horseshoe ring you put on me
    I’ll make my fidget spinner toy
    To turn throughout my highs and lows
    Or punch with when my anger boils.

    The calling cards of Hindu Gods
    You slip into my wallet sleeves,
    I’ll use to clean my dirty nails
    Or scratch under my sweaty knees.

    I’ll do the things you ask of me,
    But seasoned in some blasphemy.

    June 20, 2022

  • Winter is Coming

    I feel a winter creep behind
    To freeze over my idle mind.
    The sense of complacency’s cold.
    My fluid’s turned a fragile fold,
    Deceptive in its solid state,
    Adept at distributed weight,
    But not at concentrated stress –
    Emergencies that need address.

    The winter swallows autumn heat:
    A fire-eater on the street
    Who makes me hold my breath in awe
    To only spring a summer thaw
    For burning out complacency
    On logs cremating urgency.

    June 19, 2022

  • Dashami

    The doodles made of coloured rice,
    Which marked the day of Dashami,
    Awoke to find they’d wet their beds
    In drizzled drops of Dashami.

    The girls, who spent the previous night
    On haunches with their shadows bent,
    Bewailed their coloured sarees soaked
    In drizzled drops of Dashami.

    The boys, who bet their cash and kind
    On coloured cans of handia,
    Went sleeping on in roadside beds
    In drizzled drops of Dashami.

    June 18, 2022

  • Growing up

    No flowers bloomed, no castles rose,
    No flags unfurled to ribboned pulls.
    No horses ran on cardboard trails,
    No princess peeked through paper veils.
    I pitied all the adults then.
    No book in hundred different shelves
    Could make the story pop at them
    The way my Chinese volumes did.

    No wonder Dad was always mad
    In envy of my 3D spread.
    No wonder after scolding Mom
    He blamed her for my childishness.
    No wonder looking at my books
    He shrugged and scoffed, “A pampered prince.”
    No wonder he didn’t read to me
    Not even once: not then, not since.

    No wonder when I had to grow,
    I pillaged drawers for blade and glue.
    With careful cuts and careless tapes,
    I made improvements to my books.
    No flowers bloomed, no castles rose,
    No flags unfurled to ribboned pulls.
    No horses ran on cardboard trails,
    No princess peeked through paper veils.

    June 17, 2022

  • Ashtami

    We can, with evidence, assume
    The Goddess in our pooja room
    Accepted the prasad we served,
    But did so when no one observed.
    Ejecting seeds, rejecting peels
    And nibbling through the plastic seals,
    The Goddess munched upon her seat
    A slice of fruit, a ball of sweet.

    June 16, 2022

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