Standings of my Heart!

Standings of my Heart!

I dreamt of love. A gentle stroke, a guiding light.

A tender touch, a world so bright.

Of course! I was young,

Of course! I I felt like the hero unsung.

It was time to change the plot.

Time to rescue my lot.

Time to re define what love could do,

Time to stand up and woo.

I wasn't the doll they made of clay.

I was never the princess of the play.

My voice was loud and  hectoring,

Although articulate, but censoring.

The Prince and his horse made for a lousy discourse,

Being shy and coy couldn't be my only recourse!

I would choose the star of my life, of course!

Sorry, now you might want to sit up straight,

Or speak in whispers, if you wish to berate!

My choices are made of silk and jute,

Soft like a woman, though tough like a brute!

don't you understand, I never loved pink.

My heart didn't jump at a sly little wink!

My colour of choice is deep royal blue,

For luck could shine and keep us thick as glue.

Or so says the soothsayer outright,

Hence I believe it with all my might.

So you see, I don't care for a batting eyelash,

When I could burn your prince to white mountain ash.

Divya jha

4.1. 2013

Colour, colour, which colour do you have?

Colour, colour, which colour do you have?

The colour of faith was decided by fate,

No credit to those who practice 'hate'.

Underneath the skin beats a sumptuous heart,

Which is roughly the same from end to start.

Yet a few demand a proof or a stamp,

Are you the 'other' or from my camp?

I wonder what the colour of love could be?

Would it be bright enough to set us free?

Colour of the heart put to test,

Thick red bubbles make for a fest.

The designs on my heart etched with thy name,

The merit of my faith in your grip and your claim!

For god gives you your faith to follow and preserve,

But grants you your love only if you truly deserve.

Look not to one and trash the other,

For both are god's gift,

Like father and mother.

You practise your faith in privacy of your heart,

You celebrate your love with the ones who are near and apart.

The distance of love narrowed with a giant stride,

The discipline of faith carried with honour and pride.

Both of them i wear with equal joy.

To deceive one and risk the other,

was never my style or my ploy.

Temptations of the body made of flesh and skin,

My faith keeps me steady, and my love lets me sin.

Why on earth would I let go of one?

When I have the best of both that could be won!

Divya Jha

8. 1. 2014

My Edible Love!

My love for you began with a stutter,
Like the crunchy taste of the peanut butter.

I lusted for the spice in your eyes.
Just as I shredded the red meat of its vice.


My love for you was hard to tuck-in,
Like the dripping chocolate over bluberry muffin.

Let's dig our  teeth  deep into this heaven,
And smell like the cheese burnt straight from the oven!

Our appetite always seasoned with clove,
Mixing it with the red chillies simmering on the stove.

I stir some passion and tone it down.
Before I knew, our dish had become the flavour of the town.

Divya Jha.
22.04.2010

A Distant Thought On A Lonely Afternoon!

You came to me on a winter's night/ The chill in my bones were deeper than your dimple.
Like a half moon on your red cheeks/ Your dimples I remember.

As I pass by the shore today/ a distant thought clings to me.
Like a troubled mother I try and leave/ Like a stubborn child it holds on..

I give in an think, of a time not long ago...

Our excitement consumed the day/ Our passion ate the night away.
How moist our touch, How tender the feel/ Always ready to break out on the surface.
And we too eager to hide beneath.

Giggling we hid/ Under the covers, behind the frames.
But the sound of the giggle always remained.


It's time to look for walls again/ brick ones this time, i say please
The wooden ones leaked with my stories/ The neighborhood smelt of me

A tiny whole gave away my secrets/ If not for these wretched walls...

Oh! bring them down, i say bring them down/ But then again how lost i would be without them

So I say brick ones please/ I 'd like to think of them as brown...

Divya Jha.
20.08.2009

An After thought!

I wanted to count the stars tonight,
You wanted to drink till there was light.

My fingers too few for the night above
Your words too much for our new found love.

I thought we'd drink from the wine colored days,
And when you'd leave, I'd lock them up in a case...

Now the keys of that box trouble me.
Not knowing where to throw them away,
I came up with a brilliant plan,

I saw how the caterpillar turns
and not one butterfly ever mourns...

You made me into that brilliant view,
I turned into something more.
Not knowing when you ceased to be,
I thought it was only me...

But then when i turned around,
I knew what made that sound,
what kept me up so late,
and what made for that breath taking view!

Oh! it was you, it was you! it was you!
And now i know i could have turned,
Not into a butterfly as I thought i earned,

How quick the image brakes,
I try to put on my lovely shoes,
the stars on which reminded me of you...

I wanted to count the stars above,
I forgot the ones I had below..

How you wanted to drink all night, '
And I fussed and fussed about the light!

I wish I had a drink or two,
Then I would have seen the stars in you...

For you were my moon and my countless stars
A pity! I threw everything that was ours.

The mind never so rotten,
The heart never so raw!
How pitiable my story..

But now I hardly worry,

I fall back on that empty chair,
It seemed we had an eternity to share.

How colorful the moments of that by gone time,
Alas! My words are desperate to rhyme...

Divya Jha,
21.08.09.

A Deaperate Prayer Of A Reporter...

The phone rang unusually early,
My head still tipsy, my hair too curly!

It had rained heavily last night.
I thought I could be late for work, if I liked.

I knew it couldn't be the rain, but that's exactly why the call came!
The water had filled all the drains,
And alas! it was time for me to take some stains.

Time to talk about this yearly pain,
To repeat things over and over again!

How poor the infrastructure, how callous the government.
How ill-prepared is Delhi,
How irresponsible is Sheila

The common wealth games looked like an uphill task,
Yet no one was bothered enough to ask?

And there sat my anchor inside his studio,

Expecting me to know, the last millimeter of rain.
Wanting me to get inside some drain!

What brilliant coverage it would make;
How easily would the audience shake!

The only thought that came to my mind,
There already exist a hundred channels of a different kind!

They all were deep inside the drain,
For all you know, till it rained!

Why then I must get into one,
Especially when there was nothing to be gained,
And nothing to be won!

Oh! Anchor, My Anchor!
Please do not make me roll
For what might become of me If I fell in some hole?

No army shall come to rescue me,

To be treated like the Prince,
Was not why I was born
And that's why with this thought I couldn't go on!

Therefore I plead upon you Dear Lord,
Make me into a tadpole or something of that sort,
And then throw me inside a hole,

For that would make me live my whim,
Being a tadpole, at least I could swim...

Divya Jha.
21.08.09

I Still Don't Know What To Call Thee?

I woke up with something from the night before,
The eyes puffy, The body sore.
Red nail paint spilled all over my toe,
A dash of burgundy, a mix of brown,
the strands together lay on my pillow.


Going green with envy, the mirror cracked,
It wasn't just the moment but a life that was trapped.


Mine was a morning of screaming rain-bow,
So what if it were competing with some melodramatic show?


Our rainbows went to war at once,
For the victor shall have that one last dance.

The old maids' tale came haunting by.
Deceiving Desdimona not knowing why?

The music stopped long ago
leading me to my death row.
Telling us, what we already know:
You must reap as you sow.


Divya Jha
23.08.09