Poetry of Routine : Finding loophole


blood in my veins races in a loop

on infinity petals of a knot

a knot in muscle, a knot in tongue

feeding contortions of silence,

a caged hamster runs

to please, be pleased

now faltering for a breath


with binaries of extremes

the ends never meeting

to love, now unloved

I am a spinning spindle, beseeching

a preemption with the hand grazing

brooding over its fuzzy logic

let me hear myself say ‘what if’


I pine for a palpitation

a sigh, a smile or a shriek

identity of a throb from a tamed beat

it escapes me like that of barren lands

them who know naught of welcoming

never shall they grieve the frozen

never shall they thaw


©Written Frames, 2019

First in the series can be read here : Poetry of routine: The Crossing

11 thoughts on “Poetry of Routine : Finding loophole

  1. Your words, accompanying the late afternoon sun …. are anything but routine. How cleverly you talk of that which is contained … under flesh, in the repetition of mundane heartbeat or a soul undeniably confined. This takes me back to a time when all I could do was marvel at the writing and wonder who the clever Shefali was ….. ❤️❤️

    Liked by 2 people

    • I always amaze at the degree by which you convey your mind so fluently with a combination of mere few words. I am glad to receive your appreciation, my dearest!

      Isn’t it so true how we forever run in a loop, yet seeking a way out at every point.. craving for the tension in the string of routine to lapse and set us free to find ourselves in that moment.

      Liked by 1 person

      • I am even happier to lavish my attentions wholly and intently upon you beloved!

        May your day depart from the routine in surprising ways and your thoughts lay the foundation for exquisite and unlimited adventure far from the closed loop of the mundane.


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