August came as the promise of rain,
on a dark gray morning,
mists and low light,
the distance not in sight.

Such a joy to stay in,
bake up a little storm,
the smell of burnt rosemary,
adding earthiness to the home.
I indulge in the gray,
brew myself a strong pour,
let the distance stay distant,
and take care of what’s near.

August came as the promise of rain,
on a dark gray morning,
mists and low light,
the distance not in sight.

Instagram handle — @words.and.other.comforts


July came in a little hurriedly,
like someone missed a tiny step,
and pushed open the door,
without ringing the damn bell first.

I was wiping the dust clean,
a little something gathered in the corner,
and much out of habit,
had put some tea to brew on the burner.

I would have liked a couple more hours,
maybe finish re-potting some of the flowers,
but since u are already in, I get the tea out,
and here we are, ready for a fresh bout.

But, July came in a little hurriedly,
like someone missed a tiny step,
and pushed open the door,
without ringing the damn bell first.

Instagram handle — @words.and.other.comforts


Life’s beautiful paradox,
for when I start to slow down,
and breathe with intention,
an un-rushed pace,
inhale to a count of seven,
exhale to a count of eleven,
is when my body experiences,
the intense rush of calm,
and the mere awareness of being,
takes my heart on a giddy spin.

Instagram handle — @words.and.other.comforts


Did the birds reach in time,
leaving no worm left to find,
or did the worms get smarter,
hiding away to come up much later.

We will never know for sure,
but as I jogged my usual circuit,
I saw all these early birds,
and not a single worm in sight.

Instagram handle — @words.and.other.comforts


As all the worlds collide,
I offer you some quiet,
no promises, no words,
just silence that comforts.

Instagram handle — @words.and.other.comforts


So, www.the.aliporepost.com (and it’s corresponding Instagram handle) was celebrating poetry writing last month. I have always enjoyed writing but this was different. I wrote poetry for 30 days. And then I put it up on social media.

I have lots to say apparently -

  • The first 7 days were the…

Day 30 Prompt — Daydream

Here I am, looking at you,
in broad daylight,
through the everyday chaos,
and all these people in sight.

Some of them would like to wait,
but look straight ahead,
avoiding my gaze,
too direct for their taste.

Some of them look back…


Day 29 Prompt — Hope

We know what it’s like,
to block away feeling,
let hope succumb,
take comfort in being numb.

But feel you must,
even if it’s darkness,
that’s taking over your whole,
heart and soul.

We know what it’s like,
to fight against the scare…


Day 28 Prompt — Monsoon

The season after summer,
bearing the brunt of it’s temper,
soaking in the heat,
letting it sit a bit,
then cooling it down,
and pouring it all out.

Sometimes a light drizzle,
or a pleasant downpour,
when it can control the heat,
with not too much effort,
giving us all ample relief.

Sometimes a raging storm,
howling and thundering,
using all of it’s force to ease the heat,
getting burnt in the process,
shedding hot tears of release.

The season after summer,
bearing the brunt of it’s temper,
soaking in the heat,
letting it sit a bit,
then cooling it down,
and pouring it all out.

Instagram handle — @words.and.other.comforts

Ekta Parekh

Media person | iPhonography | foodie | bookish | random musings | words and other comforts

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