Without the fear of sounding cliché, let me put it this way- if my life were a book, my childhood would be its most memorable chapter. Undoubtedly, a sizeable portion of this golden phase would include the memoirs of my school days. Narratives that would be incomplete without the mention of the role played by …
Hello…
Welcome to ‘A Hundred Quills’. The title of my blog will probably intrigue you and I do plan to keep the suspense for a while. But for now, all I can say is that my blog may have a new name and a new address but I’m not really new to the process. I have …
An Epitaph Reads
An onerous soul dwells within, When autumn is pass and winter sets in, Introspecting I count my sins. Years seem a colossal mistake I lie, a lifeless body, a soul awake. But I have lived in inferno and it is too late. “Ah! Wither Faustus, Your soul can never be saved.”
Colours
The colours of life Unknown. Vintage, spring, a plethora grown. Hues and shades Brightness galore, The colours of life Yet unknown. Subtle dark A sunset glow, Ceaselessly, moments flow. Bliss and Erebus in a row, The colours of life Forever unknown.
Separated by Death
We haven’t seen each other for months. And years too will quickly pass by. I haven’t met you… Ever since you died.
A Dead Poet’s Woes
I am a dead poet and I am scared. Down below there, I see a panel of some learned friends and foes. In their minds they hold a few tools some called ‘literary device’. My verses on the table lie, They cut and pierce and wound and then lay my words to rest. Rip me …
A Hundred Quills 