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