Poetry
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While Sitting Alone
Read more: While Sitting AloneWhile sitting alone You come closer, Putting lips in the Folds of trembling hair You peep through The windows of my eyes. Wanted to listen The secret conversation Hidden in my heart, Embrace them While they weep, Love may flow As salty stream of tears.
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Zarina
Read more: ZarinaZarina was on the way to the shop where she worked; I was driving to my office; after much insistence, she stepped into my car and my heart gonged as she slammed the door and snapped tight the seatbelt. As much as I tried to fish out intelligent things to say, ideas and words sogged…
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1720 AD
Read more: 1720 ADThe seamen swing, in fatigued, fevered relish of the cradling in infancy, couched in their threadbare hammocks, the ship plunges into the reshaping trough of waves spooned towards the sandy dash with a green rumple on the horizon, to fill in the blanks of an eager nation. The cargo of half-starved humans shoved out of…
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On the Ridge
Read more: On the RidgeShe swims, the water quivers to wakefulness the surface yielding into rainbow-ripples, encircling her like subjects around a queen. She walks, tall tawny locking grasses flex their blades away to tip towards the wild-bud stem-matted earth as she cleaves the scrubland and paws defiantly at the winds from the cracking ice mountains.
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When the quotidian wrote our notes of isolation
Read more: When the quotidian wrote our notes of isolationWe were brought up by folks who respected the encrusted time, wound their watches every morning, opened windows to days. They swept the morning breeze with either their prayerful ways or brisk footprints out about the gardens of mint and marigolds. We were taught to eat with hands but not lick the fingers too much,…
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New Game On
Read more: New Game OnMap Makers! The new video game in town is here. To play Map Makers the Rulers have stencils and erasers. Also permanent markers. Plus all baton- wielding forces their side. Who knows if things go really awry. The opposition team has brushes, colours, and a few pencils to write with. Plus, they are singing loud,…
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The morning is today: a sestina
Read more: The morning is today: a sestinaThe postman brought all messages these days with a clot. I waited long at my window thinking: really, but really? Wasn’t it always some sort of a premonition of a strange mixing of the heart’s ache with our blood’s tone eternally lilting and dulcet? So, I open each packet carefully wrapped, imagining if it’s another…
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History Cannon-foddered
Read more: History Cannon-fodderedHistories are fodders for cows, they give-in to lot of chewing. I had a thing for the spice-route and my wife said it’s pretty kinky, but this exotic dream of mine got crushed, I saw dwellers’ skins and bones were all what left on the route. But I still didn’t buzz and created a lush…
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The Wind
Read more: The WindWe built mountains that crumbled down, And I drowned in my ocean of tears. Love letters and old photographs, I’ve burnt them all ever since. I built a fortress for my heart You left, leaving burnt scars And now all that’s around is the wind. I hate the wind, I wanna destroy the wind Cause…
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I’m still standing
Read more: I’m still standingWe walked on water, you and me We walked through fire, alive and free And when the vultures hovered, And rattlesnakes came out We still stood our ground. We broke out of prison, It was us against the world. And in your eyes I saw ambition, While I dreamed in colour. And when the thunder…