100 It’s all in the mind : The Red Flower

The Red Flower

To bloom
Far Away
In the mountains
Just to catch a sight of you in silence.

~The End~

An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.

Author’s Notes: Originally written on Feb 22, 2015, when the heart misses.

A tetractys poem is written with 20 syllables. A tetractys can have more than one stanza. But all new stanzas must be have an inverted syllable count. There is no limit to the number of stanzas. This type of poem often expresses a complete thought


099 It’s all in the mind : The fallen one

You zipped through,
Ignoring the fallen one,
Wailing for help,
Yes, the fallen one,
The one who needed your help,
But had nothing to offer,
But you zipped through,
Knowing you could have helped,
But you wouldn’t,
Your head is clear,
Your mind is set,
You need to be right,
And so I must be wrong,
So wrong who deserved to be alone wailing in the dark pit.

You had stopped before,
But then it was bright and beautiful.

The pit became darker,
The wail stopped,
The voice silenced,
Hardening the heart,
Drying the tears,
Breaking the spirit,
But with time found the voice in that silence,
Creating beautiful in the darkness,
Strengthening the soul with the pains,
Mending the spirit,
A spirit one can’t kill,
A spirit rising from being fallen,
The fallen one doesn’t always remain fallen,
And the fallen one doesn’t forget.

098 It’s all in the mind : Second Hand Clothes in Manipur

Second Hand Clothes in Manipur

You mock with slandering words,
To those wearing second hand clothes,
You must be the elite one,
Dressed in the way you think the elite does,
Covering your pretense,
Of your origin,
Have you forgotten the makeshift toilet ?
The one you ran with a small bucket ?
Where you held your breath from your own stench ?
Have you forgotten the fasting you did ?
To demand for a new bike which all your friends had ?
Oh! but you didn’t see how your mother ran door to door,
Borrowing money yet again,
Selling the gold earrings her father gave,
To keep up with your elite look,
Covering your economic status,
As you walk on the street,
With the material things you adorn yourself.

I had a blue jacket as a child,
Turning the inside out, it turned to a beautiful bright red jacket with blue borders,
A second hand jacket my grandmother gifted,
Which she meticulously picked amongst the many she saw and compared,
From the open second hand market at Churachandpur in Manipur,
Which was named my foren (foreign) jacket,
That became my favorite,
Many complimented wanting one for themselves,
My grandmother obliged and got more every time she visited,
For friends and neighbors who wanted,
But it was a hush hush matter that it was second hand clothes.

You who maintained the elite look,
Either by the hush hush words,
Or by your demands,
Mocking with slandering words,
How different are you in economic status ?
The status we all strive to rise above.

~The End~

An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.

This poem was written after I read comments amongst the people of hill and valley of Manipur mocking each other, trying to belittle the other making fun of wearing second hand clothes generalizing a community.