dry brush
slow rush
scuff mark
toss spark
grind slow
warm glow
sand grit
fire lit
drag hard
floor scarred
stopped wheel
burnt steel
fast wear
thick air
rough rub
heat hub
still life
hot strife
high strain
dull pain
As if our fights were not fractious enough,
Look, children have picked up the cue from us
And unless we call truce for peace and love,
Things might blow off the roof what with all fuss,
She complained once, nudged by the lost out sense.
Relax, I said, a conflict has its use,
So has this friction if confined to fence,
Only, it’s a double-edged sword to choose.
Life, what an opus if fights forge out friends!
Thank friction, a caveman found out the fire,
Stop all chafing, wheels would go out of hands,
It can lift humdrum life a tad higher,
It’s friction that dull edges get vetted,
Without, bonds of ties get not well-knotted.
If friction does within fixed fulcrum lay,
But not, were it to rub in a wrong way.
__________________________________
Sonnet | 01.01.2026 |conflict/friction, family, marriage
Note: This sonnet should have ended by the fourteenth line, but for the fact that every wife enjoys her birth right to have a last word, and here she insisted on adding her own couplet.
Tongues like knives,
fists full of want,
sparks in silence.
Bruised with need,
kiss or kill,
gripped by the words.
Dance of no retreat,
clash, then cling,
burn before touch.
Still breathing you in,
between fight and fall.
Wanting in spite,
love didn’t leave—
just changed
into fire.
We danced
on the line between
damage and desire.
This is our love,
fire,
teeth,
and everything
in between.
Friction can be tricky
if not applied correctly.
None -
creates a slipping hazard on ice.
A little -
causes a blister on your heel.
Too much -
results in the collapse of a relationship.
But just enough -
will ignite a fire
(outdoors to toast a marshmallow,
or in your soul to propel you forward).
It is just another day
To be used as we like
To choose joy as our companion
Or embolden friction and strife
It is just another hour
To spend as we desire
To embrace love as a mentor
Or wallow in customized mire
It is just another minute
To be valued as a prize
To caress truth as life’s foreplay
Or nestle with deception and lies
It is just another year
To capture the selfie of all time
To magnify the light we’ve been given
Or post our demise by design
Flooded by falling petals,
shadows embrace like lovers,
shoulders brush past a stranger.
Cognition
and action
coincide
why, then
there are
errors in my
actions?
Unconscious illusion
in a
messy world of mirages?
04/08/2021
Scorned!
Tag Me
Label Me
With Derision, treat me
Liken me to a wet disgust
The scrawny dog dragged from the gutter depths.
Still I Shine.
I am Ablaze.
Adorned with fiery darts of pearly strings.
I am choosing to ignore the peculiarities
Of my confinement.
Shackling off identities of cultural definition
Put me to bed with pasquinade.
Cloth me with double portions
of traduce and slander.
Give me vilipends for a pillow
Carefully tuck me in with slur and trash
Dim the **** of my bedside lamp.
Watch me flutter my eyelid in restful slumber.
Hear me snore in gratitude.
Be sure of one thing-
My Outshining When I Rise.
This is the dawn of a new era
I am an alien to Your presumed assumptions
I laugh confidently
through my gap-teeth
and smiles fill my dimpled cheeks.
Friction in my heart.
Is for you, my sweetheart.
Drifting in the night.
Vacant to remind.
Every moment to please.
Every particle within.
From memory.
To the calorie.
Everything in my heart.
Is for you, my sweetheart.
So don't make my heart.
Without you, it will be hard.
To heal the torture.
To control the pressure.
Very hard to penetrate.
Please don't hesitate.
Be with me forever.
In the present to future.
Only love in my heart.
Is for you, my sweetheart.
Rohan Dhabade
Muse me mine
No crime to run along another line
Reveal a peal of thunder
Steal a thought from jeopardy
Otherwise, no one will see
The gem beneath the lime-rick
Stalemate draws to endless squabble
Deny the place for psychobabble
From a zone of rubble, define a truth
Magnificent in grandeur
The whistle of a distant train
A swift arrival crossing over
Bearing friction of the truth
Fabulous friction,
Your magic transforms
The steep rock into footholds.
In delicate balance
We dance on invisible
Stairs to the summit.
fiction is
friction
without the R
always smooth
cool
friction is
fiction
with the R
never smooth
hot
Like a snake in the desert only I'll rattle in the cold, I'm a a walking apocalips whom hasn't been told,I'm skin and bone with a body on loan and as hunger roars but not for food,and coming between us could be bad for you.
(Poetry Form: Hexaduad)
We fight
at night.
Our hearts are not attuned;
we sling harsh words to wound.
How can we work this problem out,
when all we do is rant and shout,
accuse, deny and blame?
We each have done the same.
I know you love me still,
my love I cannot kill;
so, please, let's try.
Don't say goodbye.
I saw you again
And volts of electricity
Crept into my veins,
And love,
Still and frozen,
revived.
If only you saw me
For when two stone touches
Friction starts fire,
Like palm on skin,
Breath on lobes,
When you speak.
I hear the ringing
Of Sunday bells,
When the chosen worship
And I worship you.
I was damned, love,
For you were my church.
My frailty I confessed to God,
For I was guilty of pleasure
Turning cheek from his light.
But love, this time is fine,
Like our Sundays,
Start from the start.
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