TechYukti blog - Technology & Reviews in Hindi

Evening cloud bursts on the rooftop. By the lamppost, an umbrella blooms. Evening Cloudburst. Photo by Todd Diemer on Unsplash Note:    Haiku (俳句) is originally a very short form of Japanese poetry. It becomes popular in English speaking world since the late 1800s or early 1900s. The traditional Japanese haiku follows a strict set of rules. English language haiku, however, often follows the

Morning cloud bursting on the roof top. Crowds clapping to the rhythm, singing. An umbrella blooms. Waiting for you, a chance of meeting. Morning Cloudburst. Photo by Basil Smith on Unsplash Note: Tanka (短歌) is a Japanse-style short poem. It consists of 5 lines and it doesn't have to rhyme. It also follows 5-7-5-7-7 syllable count rule. This is my first attempt to create a Tanka. Read

A thought dangling on a yarn, hanging on a tree named after you. A soft airflow, a yawn swaying the string and the branches, creating a scene, like a pendulum, of an imminent clue. Over and over, bobbing like a ping pong ball, trying to grasp it, but too tall. Exhausted, under your shade, defeated by your height, lacking power. And before I knew it, summer's over, passing, turning into fall.

It was the last day of May that you told me to wait and for me to have faith, that one day, a reverse goodbye. Back then I asked why did you have to be away anyway? I questioned if we would be okay. Asking a compromise, perhaps just until next Sunday? I pleaded that you'd always stay. But alone, you need time to retrace your own way. Despite your absence, I promise that I will not sway. Today

A thin white cloth Floated over everyone's head Like a ghost at the end of cigarette Such a lovely sight Yet as if it was dead Dismissed and brushed aside No one wanted to stain it red It grew tired so it landed On floor which had never been dusted Overtime, browned and ragged Until one day you spotted me still laying there Caught a glimpse of me, you thought I was an eye floater Thinking it

Inconvenient ambiance, ever since you give me the silent treatment. My soul is turning foul the longer I cannot hear your howl. Trickling time, passing listlessly, stabbing pains, I'm dying slowly. Looking through your rhymes, seeking for hints of when you'll be returning. Restlessly checking for the phone to ring, only to find nothing. But I'll be waiting. Mazed. Photo by Victor