Poetry to Micropoetry

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Poetry to Micropoetry

“my veins are still

flooded with light

to purify the blood

to pump the words

to flow in a rhythm

to dance with the functioning

of my body

so that the content

should fall in place

giving life to the verses

of my spine.”

 

O! my Micro poetry

you have the essence

of the contemporary

society.

But the ink is fighting

to decide the genre

in a decade 

as the literary world 

denies your existence 

in the world of expression

thinking it’s too micro 

to rejuvenate the rhythm

of the pages of life.

 

Nevertheless, every form of art 

is idiosyncratic in its own

why to collate each other

why not to lionise and fete 

your arrival as the bride 

of the handsome groom

on the red carpet!

 

Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar


via Daily Prompt: Micro

Micro


PHOTO BY PEXELS

Inefficient

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Inefficient is the mind

When it’s loaded

With a sonnet of crime

A crime of love!

 

Teach my heart

Not to love

But to be lost

In the oceans

Of the crime.

 

The Shakespearean

Sonnet, gives me

The reasons

To fall for this crime.

 

Teach my ink

To write

“thou art”

not

“you are.”

 

Efficient is the mind

When the sonnet of crime

Becomes the expression

Of literature.

 

Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar


via Daily Prompt: Inefficient

Inefficient


PHOTO BY GOOGLE.COM

Why!!

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Why

and for what

The questions

keep suffocating

her inside

Why

she should

compromise when

the Sun has liberty

the Moon has its light

the stars have their

own shine

why can’t she shine

the way she aspires to??

 

The compromise

told her

I am a choice

or may be a solution

but not a duty

to opt for

so the ball

is yours

to decide on

but if the dignity

is jealous

don’t compromise

to entertain

the throng

of your pleasures.

 

Bhavya Prabhakar


via Daily Prompt: Compromise

Compromise


PHOTO BY GOOGLE.COM

He called her a Rube!!!!

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An overcrowded world, is on cloud nine

People are so agitated in a stupid scrimmage

To run and breathe for survival

The haze has covered, the surrounding

She is trying to look at him, in a haze of smoke

The blurred vision carves his figure on a wood

To sense and touch the scented body

To attain the lost connection

To cease the time of separation

But he called her a rube!!!!!

 

Calling her a rube, was an intent

The urge was to deny, the authority

To carry on the battle

With his impeccable locution

To state that the country is full of rubes

To insist on the importance of education

To disregard her amicable remarks

To concoct an imaginary plot

While his eyelids were drooping, to sleep

In the illusion of freedom.

 

But he is still calling her a rube!!!!!

 

(c)Bhavya Prabhakar


via Daily Prompt: Rube

Rube


PHOTO BY PEXELS

A feeling of Love!!!

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L’amour est la poésie des sens.

“Love is the poetry of the senses.”

Balzac

A feeling unknown

In a sudden known

With the goose-bumps

In a way.

 

Why love destroys

Or the people, who do it

To blame the feeling

To make it challenging

To replicate the emotions

With slow breaths.

 

Love is the poetry of words

Crossing the bridge

With the calming sounds of water

In a rhyming song of arousal

With some puzzled tones

In which each sense

Twirls in delight

To show off the moods

To surrender.

 

Let’s love this feeling

To pass on as a symbol

To rejuvenate the generations

To incarnate the changing

Expressions of the fella

Don’t fix just one day!!

 

Let’s honour this feeling

Each day with more amusement….

 

Bhavya Prabhakar


PHOTO BY PINTEREST.COM

 

At the University!!!

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Are you primed

To pass on the another text

Are you primed

To recall the theory.

 

The lecture begins with a fuss

Asking the explanations

From the young puss

To correlate the past

And the present.

 

The professor was lecturing

For an hour

On the contemporary writers

Of African literature

The niggers and the quest

Of identity.

 

While the university is composed

Of mixed surroundings

White and black

Together under one roof

Still having an impression

To be lost in the background.

 

What’s the purpose

Of the lecture

To deal with the identities

And the appearances !!!!!

 

Bhavya Prabhakar


via Daily Prompt: Lecture

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/lecture/”>Lecture</a&gt;


PHOTO BY PEXELS

His words have mnemonic effect!!!

 

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His words have mnemonic effect

muttering under her breath

ogling was postponed

each time she gazed

at the arrival of clock

His words have mnemonic effect

romanticising the past

reminiscing her ardour

for hours and hours

sending the notes of kiss

in a nervy act

of a tearful reunion

in Réunion Island

to gather the blessings

with a grimace

and to collect as a dream

to come true.

Oh this mnemonic effect!!!!

 

Bhavya Prabhakar


via Daily Prompt: Mnemonic

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/mnemonic/”>Mnemonic</a&gt;


PHOTO BY PEXELS

Poetry to the Poet!!!

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Poetry to the Poet

The words are screwed

Between the layers

Of your expressions.

 

Sometimes it’s super exaggerated

In the comas of your phrases

With the help

Of the poignant impressions

Of your love triangle.

 

The Poet, in his reluctant tone

Argued with his mind

Why to draft the simplified

Versions of art

With a view to being

A paragon one day.

 

The poetry was despondent

As she was accused

Of being an inarticulate cry

But the Poet promised

To simplify the intrigue

With her consent only!!!!

 

Bhavya Prabhakar


via Daily Prompt: Simplify

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/simplify/”>Simplify</a&gt;


PHOTO BY PEXELS

The green grasshopper!!!

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The green grasshopper

Buzzing and stridulating

On the green herbs

In love with her virginity

Sucking the blood of purity

In the deception of lust

But the leaves remain pious

In an attempt to seduce

The one who is not amphibious

But a vegetarian to induce

A filthy feeling of trust

He is calling it leisure

While the leaves called it literature

With an accusation of plagiarism….!!!!!!!

 

Bhavya Prabhakar


PHOTO BY PEXELS, 9 FEBRUARY 2018

 

 

The Albatross/ L’albatros

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Yesterday was the day

When I had a

Surreal nightmare

Of the seashore

This bird, with her

Large and wide

Wings calling

The sea to sing

In a rhythm

Of a marine painters

Doting the portrayal.

 

Her bill has extreme

Power of survival

The flight is picking up

The preys with a knot

Knotting around the throat.

 

The nightmare had a

Tremendous effect

On the dreams of daylight

The Albatross, was around my

Bed for the revival of the

Current époque/ era

Of discrimination.

 

Don’t hunt the preys

Without the consent

Of the nature

As the Albatross is

Riding in a colder

Zone to search the

bystander.

 

The Albatross screamed

Louder and louder

With an aim to seek

Attention of his appalling

Naivety.

 

But the nature was still in action

As the judgement was biased by attention!!!!

 

Bhavya Prabhakar


Photo credit google.com