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daphne Jan 2021
oh, silly gardener
when will you concede?
azaleas will simply never grow
from mere old papaya seeds

you blame it on the soil
you blame it on the weather
now it's drowning in excess water
can't you see how much it suffers?

i know you love azaleas
but please just stop and ponder
what you sowed were papaya seeds
and they are too a wonder

it's not how you tried to prune them
or because of your undevotion
but what you sowed were papaya seeds
growing beautifully in your garden
ms reluctance Apr 2020
Bottom heavy, firm to touch,
summer flushed round cheeks,
pleasantly pitted. Stripped ****,
swerve curve, mellow flesh
deseeded. Cubed, served
NaPoWriMo Day 24
Poetry form: Epulaeryu
Rajinder Mar 2020
My mother didn't birth me, she said.
'I plucked you from a tree, 
a Papaya tree',  she says.

'It rained torrents that Chait* night,
a storm raged, tearing apart 
all that came its way
our hut was blown, everything swept away
the tree shuddered, so did the fruits
I spent the night clinging to the scarred trunk
worried about our next meal, 
a wild gale, then, bent the Papaya tree 
I latched on to you while your siblings 
fell apart. Bursting seedlings over my body. 
With all my strength, I plucked you
the stem and branches bruised my hands and arms
streaks of blood trickled and covered your face
you had a tender, pale skin. 

Can you feel the scar on your forehead ? 
That's where my silver bracelet was lodged. 
You weren't ripe, not yet. 

Next morning, still trembling, I hid you 
in the warmth of the last cloth on my body, thereon
you slept in my ***** till
the first rain of Baisakh**.

Your father, she said, 
'had gone seeding the fields'.
She said, 'You are the fruit of my labour.'
*the Indian calendar month of March-April ** the Indian calendar month of April-May

— The End —