This town

When the day collapses into a million broken glasses just to reflect the last remaining sun, this empty town calls its strangers to the streets and fills them with noises and shuddering delights. For this place is lonely. The calm wind has left it a long time ago. The memory has now given way to … Continue reading This town

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Dancing in the dark

(Painting 'Incomplete Dance' by Medha Pandey)   Why should I see you? When in my eyes, you didn't find yourself. I was your mirror, still, in me, you seemed like someone else. I walk in darkness now, for your light left me blind. Thorns do kiss my feet, but the pain never finds it. Why should … Continue reading Dancing in the dark

Poem Recitation (The promise)

  Cold winter breeze over a sleepy oak forest. The promise of a kiss, a ritual before the long sleep. Her cold breath, whispering, warm melodies of her world. His jaded eyes waiting, for the silence; in memories of her words. The leaves now yellow, the sky turned gray and still. For his love will soon … Continue reading Poem Recitation (The promise)

Contemplate

Some late summer evening, the warm wind bathed in this half-burnt pine forest will reach to your window. I hope the smell will take you back to the time when our intentions were frivolous, and we took pride in burning our love the moment we sneaked into each other's mind. We were flying loose then. … Continue reading Contemplate

Thou little fool

An eternal struggle of the memory, caged, in this endless cycle of a repetitive dream; reminiscing about a momentary fame somewhere in this passage of borrowed time. Enlighten my sky, thou little fool, with your borrowed light. Enlighten my life, thou little fool, before the end of your time. This cycle of joy and sorrow, will appear, … Continue reading Thou little fool

Broken hands

Don't you believe, we are stuck in this room. You have a red box at the corner, and I have a blue one on the other side. We meet once in a while, to talk about our sorrowful lives and shames, in disguise. Our hands, worn out wrists too brittle now even our eyes don't meet. What have … Continue reading Broken hands

The black butterfly

As the sun finally gasps before settling in the orange bay; the darkness creeps in stealing all the colors of the day. With timid eyes rise the creatures of the night; silently fluttering, makes its way 'the black butterfly'.   The world, surreal to her cast under the blanket of sorrow; dazzled with darkness, she looks … Continue reading The black butterfly