the random conversation misty eyes choked voice in midst of inner chaotic silence affirmative or prerogative one word replies emotions suffocated strangled in a knot the lily beside, pleaded few more moments sought hesitatingly I nodded henceforth lone will be the journey lone will be the path under the blue as two souls walk apart.
Endlessly my heart cried eyes searching frantically in vain “where art thou” behind the curtain of life is anything true or is all disdain? My life ain’t a stage neither I a performer to enact or flaunt in mystical attire as perceived everyone ..I ,a mere soul wish to be a lotus blooming in the… Read More “My Life ain’t a stage “
I have lost my pen its nib – golden once scribbled ceaselessly while the world retired to the cushion of comfort every night the quill loved to brush against the papyrus… leaking on blank pages the painful emotions which were witness of sordid transitions helplessly, yet as a powerful weapon narrating every encounter thus… Read More THE LOST PEN
Tireless eyes– watch the setting sun’s scarlet mask a young morn, enfurling petals The lonesome cacti in sordid desert orchids blossoming as fragranced love in cold hearts of summer… What if they become tired and close for few moments Nay! The noisy chaotic shimmer of dutibound survival shall enforce them to be wide open… not… Read More Tireless eyes-
skips the pulse , one breath I lose a moment of your thought when my eyelids gaze the blue searching for the brightest star its twinkle reminds me of you… amidst the constellation a unique stellar assemble come closer ! I whisper, as I capture Thee in the quiet lake of my iris to bathe… Read More The Twinkle
photocredit:www.theguardian.com Oh! am god’s clay soft , tender, smooth yet can be brittle and tough at times nay, I ain’t hail from the breed of proud ,haughty misnomers who sparsely realize a drop of tear worth… neither they hath seen the gory of dead or the dreaded hunger yet epitomize words ..larger than life social… Read More Oxford Handset nay, am God’s clay !
photocredit: google images the delicate quill scribbles lore of sordid life amidst the society of racial protagonists and authoritarians few drops emerge on the paper red scarlet, yeah ! they are grievous tears fallen by tormented excruciation. the words sharp, pierce the autocratic system which hath remained despotic since ages and years ..will the ink… Read More The delicate quill