PoemsIStoriesIEssays
Hello everyone! It's April, the month of flowers and nature, colour, life and the month of writing and poetry. I'm participating in both the AtoZChallenge and NaPoWriMo BUT ONLY as a READER. Discovering others and their thoughts is sometimes as fulfilling as writing your own. As the monthly ritual goes, I'm here to post on …
Continue reading "I WENT LOOKING FOR A POEM (IWSG – APRIL, 2023)"
They haven't postponed the new release on OTT, the svelte heroine doe-eyed sways to a song, a poor adaptation of one from the sixties. Festivals wait in the wings, my daughter has counted fourteen days to Holi*. There's a wedding in the neighbourhood, notes of band wallahs* play louder than their livery. A friend sends …
Hello! Welcome to this year's last WEP Challenge inspired by the iconic song of Roberta Flack. A little backstory to this prose poem. Our world thrives on heterogeneity. It is in our differences that we can see the true beauty of this world. It would be so boring if we were all similar. Ironically, it …
Continue reading "We Choose to be Handcuffed by Rolling Letters"
When I hear you talkarms flailing, the riseand fall of the voice,I trace the contours ofyour face with my eyesMeet an acquaintance,watch your spirit plungewith all its mightinto reason, contention,willingness to bring change.The mirror reflects a memoryfrom years ago,a forgotten affair with passionburied under layers ofquiet living.What's lost is often around the cornerThe apple, they …
Free image pixabay Meeting an old friend after ages is sometimes like meeting a new person. Someone so new that you prefer their warm, old memory instead... We hold handsuninterrupted by lifeTalk about a hundreddreams-More than a score andfive years ago. We walk like we ownthe trailsthat lead to our homesSay hello to the tinyfoliolesbefriended …
Free image, Pixabay A little scribble inspired by a Murakami story. And just like thatwe run into the seasonof booties and gloves.The blossoms gonein the blink of an eye,vanished in the small intervalbetween sundown and rise.And just like them we turna form into a blob into a dotinto no trace of any thinga mishmash of …
A Hundred Quills 