Nine Yards of Twinge (Episode Three)


Time was the cruellest that year,

How it faded and slipped,

Through the fingers of his,

Wrinkled hands like sand,

Moina was resting on her death,

Bed, he despised her now and,

Said, “You cheated me, you,

Said a lie, your promises are,

Fake, why you did to me when,

You couldn’t keep!” the old,

Husband now cries in his,

Aloofness, they were lovers,

Of an era which has bygone,

The reminiscences are now strong,

She meekly stared, but replied none,

Words have long stopped coming,

It was her eyes that spoke,

She was still beautiful in his eyes,

A young beautiful bride wearing,

Nine yards of alluring silks,

Those views are fresh, when,

She had filled the house with,

Mirth making it alive with her,

Chirping and vigorous gestures,

Wrapped evermore in saris,

Now he held her hand more oft,

To express his incessant love,

Alas! One dawn was ghastly,

A man who was mute mostly,

And silent towards the world,

Woke the heavens that day,

When his wife closed her eyes,

His sobs were heard till far, and to,

The farthest lands where they,

Had travelled together on foot,

How glorious was that time, when,

Their love was praised and ogled,

He has protected his Moina for long,

From every harm, but this time,

He was the loser in the God’s house,

He stood alone, all by himself,

Slowly the mob going homes,

He watched the deviant fire gulp,

Her earthly body in hours few,

Like a python it seemed that night,

Fetching on its prey, he was never,

Alone in walking home, she had,

Walked along matching every step,

Making him feel the pride more,

Now the house is hollow, who shall?

There wait in those pretty saris,

And the ringing anklet that filled the,

House with her presence, he wished,

To die that night, coming back,

For first in many years, he opened,

Her wooden almirah, next to that,

Mud made kitchen, a small room,

Where she wore those nine yards of,

His love, he saw them in the lantern,

Light, hanging neatly still holding,

That shine, he rubbed his hands over,

Them and tears began rolling,

Who will wear these now?

Who will give me that tea?

The nine yards of her benign presence,

Into his life and her absence going,

To be long now was the deviant twinge…


Words By *Monalisa Joshi*

Image Source: Pinterest2ca925da60ef2e5797f5f65ef2721d9b


Inviting Submission

995340_1070986946302160_2811386903564809486_nPlethora the online Blogazine is seeking submission for poetry, prose, short stories, articles, memoirs and more. The theme is love and romance and those who have interest or inclination in writing towards passionate, intense and romantic genre then kindly submit your proposal to The best of each shall be featured on the Blogazine every month and the copyright stays with the author/writer. The submission guidelines are given below please read them carefully before submitting your work.

  1. Send only one short story (7000 words maximum) and one poem of any length and style, keeping the theme and purpose of the Blogazine in mind.
  2. For Prose, Articles or Memoirs (2000 to 2500) is the word limit but the theme should be again kept in mind.
  3. Use Times New Roman Font, size 12 point standard and double spaced with clear mentioning of the name of the Title of the Work, Genre and the Author.
  4. Make sure your work is edited, proof read and clean.
  5. Email submissions are accepted on the above given email id, kindly send in your original work with “Plethora Submission” in the subject line. Send one mail for a short story and separate for poem. For articles or prose the same rule implies.
  6. Do not send obscene literature with vulgar words,  before sending kindly read the ‘About’ page of what the Blogazine is about and then send in your entries.
  7. Entries that do not comply to the rules or don’t fit into the theme provided shall not be accepted and Plethora would not be responsible for any loss of material and neither it will give any feedback or reasons about the same.
  8. Kindly send in your original work and if using references or quotes from other writings do mention the source.

Plethora is looking forward to read your work. All international and national entries are accepted, however Plethora is willing to receive much work from Asian Diaspora.


Editor-in- Chief

Monalisa Joshi

Nine Yards of Pride (Episode 2)


“Look Moina I have something for you,”

He cajoled, with a devilish beam,

Oh his face, she read and blushed,

Standing slight far in the doorway,

With a lopsided smile,

She came closer and whispered into his,

Ears, “I know what it is”,

He glanced and she did same,

Their eyes met and desires danced,

Within their youthful hearts,

He grinned and gave the brown,

Paper package, “wear this tonight!”

She nodded and snatched,

Ran away with giggles and joy,

Went to her dressing room,

Staring at own reflection in the,

Mirror, the curls of hair falling,

Over her temple, and fair cheeks,

Blushing without applied hues,

She threw the wrinkled garment,

From her body, of the days’,

There was no time to be wasted,

To fold the clothes and keep,

Them neatly on the wooden,

Cloth holder desires will,

Neither wait nor her youth,

The whole day went otherwise,

Doing house hold chores and more!

The feelings arising now,

Seemed magnetic and much,

Thunderous to shy away,

Rising inside her body like,

Waves of ecstasy!

Her whole youthful flesh

Vibrating in glee, tearing callously,

The packet her eyes twinkled,

Lips smiled in glee,

A green south silk with,

Broad border and motifs,

She wrapped it around her,

Body roughly, her bare shoulders,

Peeking along with her back,

She combed her hair in a bun,

Adorning them with sweet-smelling,

Jasmines from her garden,

Treading slow the hallway,

Holding her South Silk Sari,

She came inside the mammoth,

Room where he was,

Waiting much eager,

Turned his face with the,

Sounds of her silver anklet,

His eyes widened to see,

His bride wrapped in nine yards,

And his heart again felt the,

Pride and kismet to have her,

As his wedded companion for life…

~Monalisa Joshi~




Image Credit: Google


Monalisa’s Musings

Read my naked soul overflowing,
With poetry before its’ late,
As eternity, ah! I am knocking,
Yet on every heart’s door holding,
A bowl empty and still I am not,
Visible to thine eyes, and day one,
That mist from above the sky,
Shall carry me on its chariot,
To the farthest lands, perchance then,
Thy hands will hold the rotten pages,
Lying somewhere as dirt, spilling my verses,
Alas! Only that thud on thy doors with,
Fingers once those were fragile and bled,
Shall not disturb thy worldly slumber!

Words By : Monalisa Joshi
Image Credit : Unknown



Nine Yards of Love (Episode 1)


Her eyes open with his pleading,


She wakes up in haste and rushes to,

The mud and dung covered stove,

She puts the water in a pan and,

Applies her Bindi, in the middle of,

Her brows carefully, with the clear,

Water bubbling in the pan, she ties

Her long tresses in a rough bun,

She then rushes to the wooden,

Cabinet takes out the sugar,

Tea leafs and pours them all in,

She then tucks the sari’s pallu,

To her fair belly within the petticoat,

And covers her blouse with another,

End of her sari, rushing then to the,

Goat tied outside her kachcha kitchen,

Milking some fresh creamy milk,

For her husband’s hot tea,

The liquor has spread in the air,

Filling his nostrils with tea essence,

And he calls one more time,

In a mellow voice, “Moina”,

And she then comes walking,

To their sleeping room, hands

Over the tea, and he sips it making,

Loud noises in seconds one or two,

Tea is not what he is waiting,

It’s her radiant face he wants to,

See, and all that she does every day,

In the kitchen to look beautiful,

He pulls one end of the pallu,

Lovingly and caressingly,

And she blushes like a new bride,

His love has been festive evermore,

And days like rejoice, she partakes,

The joy of looking beautiful,

To her lover’s eyes!

And graceful even in her homely,

Seem, those nine yards are sign,

Of his eternal and sane love,

She wraps them merrily around,

Her body and he take pride,

When she walks by his side,

As his soul mate and bride!


*Monalisa Joshi*

Image Credit: Pinterest

*Kachcha* Made of mud, straw and dry leaves

*Pallu* The Loose end of a Sari

*Bindi*  A decorative mark worn in the middle of the forehead by Indian women, especially Hindus.

The Bride (Part One)

Her body was covered in eclectic,

Attire with twinkles myriad that,

Came from the skies, to embellish,

Her beautiful fair skin, she beamed in,

Night, the sky was her mate, she was,

Getting married to the son of God!


The azure sky was roaring tonight,

Expressing his manhood to the clouds,

And stars, commanding them to go,

To his new bride and adorn her with,

Beautiful blossoms and not fine clothes,

For there no need of such earthly things,


In his vast abode, his kingdom was pious,

And divine, with eyes none and ears nine,

The planets gave their words, they shall,

Never break the confines, of his merrily,

Abode when the sky’s new bride arrives,

Ah! She was a woman, beautiful, youthful,


The night came, and the chariot of sky,

Arrived on the facade of her small dwelling,

Where once he saw her singing the songs,

Of her hymen, her melodious voice went,

Till heavens and the seven skies, and the,

Youngest of them all, the first sky above earth,


Gave away his heart to this earthly woman,

With lightening his chariot arrived and,

Commanded he, I shall marry you from,

Nine days now, be ready you shall be mine,

The young woman in awe, uttered no word,

And the youngest and the mightiest fled,


And merged in night, she had no say! Came,

The day ninth, the night his mistress took,

Away all its stars and made the darkest,

Night, the younger groom threw thunder,

Showing its anger and it rained; the bride,

Drenched, her tears of dismay too lost in rain,


Damped and cold, shivering and timid,

She came into her new dwelling, there,

Was no bed, no hearth no mirth, merely,

He and his vast reign of sky, she sobbed,

For months and days many and it rained,

And rained incessantly, he cared never,


Roving in kingdom his, on chariot of clouds,

Came to her with amorous desires, made,

Love to her day and night and she remained,

A gloomy bride, with no happiness and pride,

In her heart to keep, but soon she fell in,

Love, ah! At last she fell in love with him,


Her handsome husband, the youngest of,

The sky and the kingdom filled with,

Laughter and glee, they two spent time,

In each other’s arms, lost in their brief,

Love life, the son of God forgot she was,

An earthly woman he married, her body was,


Fated to die, and how the ages passed,

Away, and the bride now lying on her,

Death bed, took his hand into her’s,

Leaving her young body forever, that day,

The sky cried and there was thunderstorm,

The whole night, Alas! Their wedlock ended,


With her demise, he sat with her dead body,

In his lap and cried, tears turned into rain,

The earth flooding with water everywhere,

And he cursed himself now for being a God,

A God with dismay and an eternal life,

What was to do with his powers and pride?


His vast kingdom and clouds infinite,

Alas! He could not keep her body forever,

Neither could he conjure his beautiful bride,

Yes! He cursed himself for being a ‘God’,

That incessant life of his, he despised,

This twinge was much for him to bear as a man…


To be continued…

*Monalisa Joshi*

Image Source: Google


Lover Magpie

Into a garden she reached,

There were butterflies,

And bees, there were hues,

Of nature’s love, the prettiest,

Cherry blossoms and dandelions,

The gentle breeze and floating,

White clouds in the blue sky,

She picked few blossoms,

She picked few cherries,

Alas! It was someone’s garden,

Someone else’s keep,

She knew not, her pretty face,

Innocent as ever, filled with light,

Youth spilling and dropping,


From every inch of her skin,

She was a dusky beauty,

Into the garden much akin,

Of pink lilies, her cheeks,

Blushed, carrying her youth,

Smitten by her, there was,

Someone hidden in the bush,

He was the possessor,

Of that precinct, now willing,

To own her too, for life,

And so he commanded,

One of his servants,

It was no human, a serpent,

Creeping came from behind,


Filled her with venom,

Not fatal, and she stood,

Frozen turning pale blue,

Her pink cheeks, lips red,

Became white like snow,

She got in frost sleep,

Was it her transgression?

She picked few blossoms,

She picked few berries,

Like a frozen statuette,

Stood she in the middle,

Of his estate, who was he?

Hidden behind his fate,

No soon he stepped out,


Every one of serpents lay still,

Their master no human,

He was a devil!

The face of Magpie,

The body of human,

And the heart of a goblin,

He commanded from,

Behind his veil,

Put her into prison,

None touch her dusky skin,

None caress her in din,

Of my royal influx,

To the darkest cells of lust,

She is my prey, oh hush!


Nor the gust should hear,

Neither the dust drinks her tear,

Be quenched that has fallen,

From her eyes, take her chained,

And raise her from the slumber,

Of death, whilst the chariot of dawn,

Enters her cell, bathe her with,

The virgin rays of sun,

Pour milk all and make her wet,

Let her stand alone in soft net,

That hides her from me behind,

A thin clothe, that naked body,

And I shall come haunting,

Shall I tease her, yet will not reveal,


I am lover Magpie, I will conceal,

Behind a handsome face,

She knows never will fall in love,

I shall see her bare, it will be fair,

For my love is true and she shall,

Give me her chastity and more,

My lust for her in all demeanour,

Pouring her with devilish manhood,

Day and night, I need no other woman,

I need no other bride, slay the rest,

My muse is here, she fills my nest,

She would be my mate,

For the rest of my dates,


Lurking he went the lover Magpie,

Into the dark cell, smelling her fear,

Into his senses, and to see her,

Perspiring, the droplets of sweat,

Slipping down from her cheeks,

Till her breasts, her uneasy breaths,

He remained a hidden lover,

Made love to her as masquerade,

She moaned, the sound he enjoyed,

But the devil did not see,

She was in tears, she was in pain,

This wasn’t love, this was a gain,

A forceful assault of an innocent,

Soul, who stood vulnerable, woman!


The lover Magpie, wasn’t in glee,

There was no love, and couldn’t win he,

Her heart as only she cried night,

After night, he thought he gave pleasure,

Of manhood to a woman she was,

But lacked in love, and she despised,

Annoyed and broken-hearted,

For first he went visible to her eyes,

Revealed his face of Magpie,

Half human, half bird, to fetch her eyes,

And punish her with blindness,

So long she lives, she lives in pain,

Alas! A possessive lover,

If not mine, none to ever,


Made up his mind, and ripped,

Her silken robe apart her body,

But her soul was of light,

Her naked body made of love,

Blinded him forever, he couldn’t,

Stand her chastity, fell down on floor,

Writhing in pain, eyes spilling blood,

She ran to him, took him in her lap,

Shed myriad tears of love,

Her clandestine love for him,

His hushed arrival into her cell,

Was all known to her, she knew,

The serpent that rolled onto her,

Was none, but her lover Magpie!


The salted water from her eyes,

Fell into his, her pious love,

Altered him to a man, he was free,

From his devilish heart, and the face,

Ah! So handsome, he stood immediate,

Covering her with his vest, his lust,

Was now love, the space got filled,

With sun’s virgin rays, the dark hours,

Gone now evermore, she was in his,

Embrace and they became lovers,

Romance won over lust, they left,

The cells, heading towards the gardens,

The place was still beautiful,

As they both walked forever hand in hands…


Words by: Monalisa Joshi