Posts Tagged ‘creative writing’


image via pinterest

My descriptors a parenthesis
of synonyms, a hill range
of weird and odd to strange,
a graph of outrage.

What if I were to tell you
there’s nothing strange?

I am just a girl
looking for love dashing
to the singsong shores
of strangeness, hoping
the next crash will bring
with it love, a sediment
at least cutting its ridges
on skin keeping me
lit and dancing.

A tango perhaps
for the flamenco that I am
is so strong, so woman.

Partner me, love.
Dance me. Kiss me. Fuck me.
Slashed strawberries
did you know
spill scarlet?

Reacquaint me
with the breath of us.

slow rising falling falling

Falling into us.

© Anuradha Prasad 2018

blore palace_anu

© Anuradha Prasad 2018

My land is barren, a reverberation of dunes.
Endless, expansive. Mirages my false hope.
The sea has receded. Its dance silenced.
It will return. Now, there is only the desert
without interruption. Thirst consumes me.
Patience, there are forests to come.

By the edge of the dune, on the horizon,
Amazonians tower. Birds of paradise cut
through its lush green canopy. A feather
sprinkled with the neon of green, the blush
of pink, drifts kisses my sand-dusted feet.

The horizon holds the promise of sea,
the dolphins, my eternal companions,
distant now, I hear their whoops of joy.
The last of them turns, his long snout opens
in a grin. His eyes hold the promise of a
million stars. Wait! He too disappears.

The sun relents, the moon surfaces.
A cold dry breeze rustles up a soft
howl of sand. No horizon, no promise.
Only the slivered stretch of a silver night.

© Anuradha Prasad 2018



© Anuradha Prasad 2018

a teardrop of yellow,
shivering heart of blue
tiptoe upon a crumbling
black tip stretching out,
a serpentine coil of wick
languid in an amber pool
drowning drinking
holding in the length
of its breath
the nearness of death.

a sharp relief
the iron of blood
the burn of metal.

a last aria,
of fiber and fire.

© Anuradha Prasad 2018



coorg © Anuradha Prasad 2018

coal-black path
fringed with poinsettias
red vivid
through the dark
caution, might they have said?

carmine hibiscus burst
open, flamboyant
in spirit, chrome-edged
thunbergia filled
in crimson, cascading.

bubbled sun blaze
dewdrop ensnared in woven
geometry, dissipating
an ode, rising
glory of light.

© Anuradha Prasad 2018

lalbagh lake anuradha prasad.jpg

© Anuradha Prasad 2018

a twitter stream of birds
perched on a gulmohar

© Anuradha Prasad 2018


image: via pinterest

singer of sea songs, swimmer of seas, a dancing breeze, i live in the sway of trees. i wear purple in my eyes, green on my lips, a halo of nothingness flows over me, a puddle of gathering questions at my feet. flaming petals flaming fish flaming heart, there’s the ash of me. perceiver of light, see me in the dark-gowned pirouetting dream. moon gazing white, set alight by the sun. seeing everything, remaining unseen. wanting everything, taking nothing. this is where moths come to breathe.

zazen life.

zazen death.

© Anuradha Prasad 2018

a gathering cloud of thoughts at a workshop with hebrew-english poet, gili haimovich


hampi sunset anuradha prasad.jpg

the sun does set over empires, hampi © Anuradha Prasad, 2017


A dark bird
pecks at night’s quiet
in a dream.


Climbing sun
anchors the sky
blazing blue.


Dark skies
melting notes of light
slowing spirit.


A gliding scar interrupts
the might of the sky
blue becomes bluer.


the sun at high noon
till earth turns.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2017

cubbon park anuradha prasad.jpg

image: cubbon park © Anuradha Prasad, 2017


Green tea
brewing twilight
in a teapot.


Count of bars
in the cage of time
tick tock tick.


Among leaves
a wasp’s nest lies


Shallow pond
two frogs floating
one alive.


Sun rises
dusty light nudges
sleep awake.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2017

hampi anuradha prasad

sun, rain and bows in hampi © Anuradha Prasad, 2017

My island of monsoon –

sun shines through
sheets of rain
the whistle
of the wind

rainbows are,
disappear and
are again.

a playground in
sky’s wilderness.

© Anuradha Prasad, 2017

A scribble from a poetry exercise at Rochelle D’Silva’s performance poetry workshop.


image: via pinterest

a poem with wings
by your stone cold

i flit


© Anuradha Prasad, 2017