A glacier melts into quiet streams of pondering,And cries through burden, flows through my head.The icy sculpture becomes a myriad of bluesThat overtake feelings of joy and dread. This river ebbs and surges; it has no mercy-Clashing with rocks that dare falter its flow!Violent spurts of murky blue- how a simple worryCan conquer your senses […]
The River of Thoughts Read More »
When the sun sets and the sky dims,When the stream dies or the waves crash.When the lights go out and thunder rings,When flowers wither and cold winds gnash.I am not alone. When the cold gets too brisk to bear,When the fire seems too warm at day.When I deem that God just doesn’t care,When the grief
When I am Down and Out Read More »
An icy mass yields to the heated fervour of the air; a kiss of warmth on the frozen water that manipulates it to expand out of its state. Plastic debris thrown in by various travellers find this melted glacier a pleasurable expedition to go upon, ignorant of the thousands of animals that they force to
The Consequences of an Ignorant Human Read More »
Bright, vibrant colours enliven the entrance to the carnival. Gentle sunrays caress her skin playfully as Nina waits in line along with her small, enthusiastic family. They are mid-way into summer: the perfect time to visit one of the active fairs. The only problem is that everyone is touring the gala at this time. The wait
The Zombie Blackout Read More »
Disclaimer- this story is not fact-based. Sometimes I wonder how things look like from the Above… Sitting on a flat green surface, I strain to see the world through the tiny water blobs that coat its peripheral. An array of blurred but vibrant colours tease me from the corners of my twelve eyes; blues, reds,
The Caterpillar That Wished to Soar Read More »
‘Twas soon a dull and rainy day,Oh! The wetness o’ the fields and swaying o’ the trees.Tearful, the children who strolled and played,Why, the Rain Gods had already chilled the breeze. Bawling and wailing, they hustled inside.In the blink of an eye, dry blankets arrived.Youths and babes, in warm arms they dried,Whilst their playful jest
Happy Teacher’s Day Read More »
It seemed like another lifetime when I used to sit quietly and watch my mother paint, paint, and paint as she devoured the canvas in front of her with a palette of indefinite colours. I was fascinated by the swiftness with which she moved her brush and how tenderly she held it. Vague memories enter