Minakhi Misra

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  • No Escape

    When he wants to say No,
    To deny you permission
    To do what you really want to do,
    He just says, “I won’t advise it.”
    When you ask him why, he glares.
    “I don’t have to explain myself.
    You can do what you want.”
    But if you really do what you want,
    He acts like you’ve taken his tea,
    Snatched it from his trembling hands
    And splashed it on his trembling face.
    You tire of asking why, why, why.
    He never answers. Only glares.
    Only grumbles. Only trembles.
    That’s how he keeps you shackled up
    Inside a cellar, four-by-four,
    Of his narrow-minded grumpiness.

    October 25, 2021

  • Replying to Rumi

    1.

    “Judge a moth by its candle.”

    O Rumi, I’ve become the moth
    Whose candle has been fired and
    Replaced by an LED bulb
    That better fits the firm ethos.

    2.

    “Be a tree and let the dead leaves drop.”

    O Rumi, I was searching me
    In fallen leaves of autumns past.
    I found you in my gnarly roots
    Becoming rings around my being.

    3.

    “Be an empty page, untouched by words.”

    O Rumi, what a flaw I have:
    I can’t abide an empty page,
    As silence scares me more than words.
    I lose myself in finding use.

    October 24, 2021

  • Instruments

    Corns of black pepper,
    Buds of black cloves,
    Cups of black coffee,
    Clothes of black cotton,
    Leaves of black lines
    Pens of black ink –
    Instruments of writing
    Spell out the black words,
    Dispell the black moods,
    And clear my black eyes.

    October 23, 2021

  • Pigeon Dawns

    1.

    I shooed the pigeon pair away,
    Without a care to hear their words,
    And back I went to Robert Frost
    To read his rhyme on garden birds.

    2.

    I came along with pen and ink
    Opened the window to the dawn,
    And found the Muse in pigeon eyes
    That glared at me ‘fore moving on.

    3.

    I scrubbed the floor off pigeon egg,
    Which Humpty-Dumptied from the roof,
    And wondered if the mother bird
    Would grieve aloud or stay aloof.

    October 22, 2021

  • Spare Me

    If I get another ping from you
    Where all you do is crib and cry,
    I’ll block your number, permanent,
    So don’t you even think to try.

    You think I’m your agony aunt?
    Just sitting here to hear your woes?
    I don’t care if your boss is bad.
    I don’t care if your food is gross.

    It happens every time you have
    Two options, which are both so bad,
    Or both so good, you cannot choose
    And run to me like I’m your Dad.

    Just take your own decisions, please.
    I’m slammed with many on my plate,
    Against an old adversary
    Whose options come with loaded fate.

    It cocks a gun at me and asks
    “Which option do you like today?”
    It matters not which one I pick.
    It pulls the trigger anyway.

    It’s not that your problem is small.
    I know it’s big inside your head.
    I’m saying it’s your own to fix.
    So, let me deal with mine instead.

    October 21, 2021

  • Sweet Valentines

    You all who wish to save my soul,
    Infecting me with sanity,
    I stand here vaccinated to
    Your toxic positivity.

    You send your love in fancy dress
    Of wrapped up gifts from Amazon.
    I can’t enact your fairy tale
    And there pretend to be your One.

    Your chocolate hug and rosé kiss
    And promised flow of teddy treats
    Are weak proposals lost on me:
    I’ve given up all processed sweets.

    The gravel of my gnashing teeth
    Has skinned the fore-end of my tongue
    For I’m a bitter biting man
    Inside a bag of sandy dung.

    October 20, 2021

  • Pigeons

    For many months, I mistook the pigeons’ cooing
    For her incessant under-the-breath grumbling
    That had been a source of widowed white noise
    Through my Cartoon Network afternoons.
    I now leave a little bowl of water for them
    To drink from, to play with, to spill over,
    Like she had done in those last few weeks
    When she had become the quiet kid,
    And I the garrulous grandmother.

    We feed the departed when we feed crows,
    She had said, not knowing she would be alive
    In the simple home-making gootergoo
    Of portly pigeons that dipped their plumage
    Every evening in the smoky haze
    Hovering over the cremation grounds,
    Above the sooty patches of ash and cinder,
    Left behind by the departing souls
    Skyrocketing into their judged heavens.

    Is it any wonder when her garlanded photo
    Is overlaid by ghostly grumbling pigeons
    When the morning rays from the skylight
    Hit obliquely across the glass frame?

    October 19, 2021

  • I Don’t Like Waiting

    Why do you think it’s okay
    To take my time for granted?
    I value your attention.
    And all I’ve ever wanted
    Is for you to value mine.
    How difficult is that?
    If you won’t give an answer,
    Don’t say you will get back.
    Don’t beat around the bushes
    Like lawyers prevaricate
    When they don’t like an offer,
    But won’t tell it to your face.
    Don’t leave me in the dark here.
    Both yay and nay are fine.
    Just tell me now, if ever,
    Will you be my valentine?

    October 18, 2021

  • Letting Go

    The art of letting feelings go
    Begins with losing all you know.
    For what you know is dear to you.
    And dearness is a feeling too.
    This game is not a finite game.
    Your every moment is the same.
    Your feeling comes, you feel it grow.
    Observe it now and let it go.
    Your feeling comes, you feel it stay.
    Observe it here, then peel away.
    Your feeling comes, you feel it is.
    Observe it so and stay in peace.
    Your feeling comes… you get the drift?
    Accept the feeling as a gift.

    October 17, 2021

  • Gaah!

    Again I struggle with ink today.
    At the paper blank, I blink today.

    With the streak at stake, about to break,
    I find myself at the brink today.

    The street’s so quiet, muse on diet,
    I am on my own, I think, today.

    In form I trust, for write I must:
    Some ghazal couplets I link today.

    These muddy lines, like spilled over wines,
    To my shamelessness, I drink today.

    Do you hear the scare? “Misra, beware!
    Your words are going to stink today.”

    October 16, 2021

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