Friday, 30 May 2014

The lone star

A lone star twinkles,
Vanishing from my sight.
Blinking to a beat,
One can't hear.

I ask it to stop
The blinking and twinkling
It says to me,
I shan't today. 

It matches my heart,
The rhythm of the star,
It looks down on my windowsill.

Where I sit with wonder,
Looking up at the sky
My heart doesn't seem to still.

I stare at the star,
And it stares at me back
A game we play all night.

For morning shall come,
The dark blanket disperse, 
And I shall stare solemnly at the sky.


2 am thoughts, a star caught my fancy. Need I say more?  :)


Tuesday, 27 May 2014


An air of nostalgia saunters in with a chill
and I stand rooted there.
As a wave passes inside me.
I give in to memories..

Ps. Old Recycled poetry time, exam time ie!

Monday, 26 May 2014

Secrets and Silence

I am silent today
Holding in all the things together.

If I were to tell you, 
Would it scatter apart?

For it's so much easier, 
When there isn't a secret keeper.

Yet, I find myself bubbling,
A world stays in me. 

Unknown to the rest, 
In the folds of my being.

A volcano of thoughts, 
Building up slowly, but surely.

Shall it erupt? Shall it flow? 
Traveling towards the vast blue sky.

At times I'm afraid it shall burst,
Spilling those words I dare say not. 

Yet I am silent today.
Perhaps my words shall find their way. 


Pondering late last night, brought out quite some many questions, I absolutely had to jot it down. 

How do you deal with secrets?


Image: Google search :)

Saturday, 24 May 2014

Somethings Magical

There's just something about magic. It leaves the childlike mind stumped, a teenager amused, an elder surprised,  trying to find logic behind it.  But that's the thing about magic you see, it may not make sense always. My take on some things magical for WOW by BlogAdda.

Image: Google

The wind chimes sing
With the passing breeze
A child looks In wonder
Magic, it seems.


She sprinkles glitter over her bed
Magic dust it is, Ma had said.
Wishes and prayers do fairies hear.
Bring back my Ma, she prays in bed.


The rabbit was found
Under the magicians hat
Perhaps Alice 
Fell down the wrong hole.


She was my magic
I, her slave.
A whiz with her wand,
I vanished away.


Fairies and gnomes
Pixies and combs

Petals and light
Flowers pure white

Beckons A mystical world
Dreams and magic unfurled


The very first look,
A mother is born
What greater magic?


Touched my heart
Without touching me at all
It's magic, I'm sure.


There was something about her
I can't put my finger to it. 
The way she would figure out,
What I wanted to say.

Her ways, her walk,
Had me enchanted.
Hooked all the more

When she spoke
I felt daisies erupt around me
In silence did her fragrance
Lure me so.

There never was darkness with her
Sunshine or moonlight
Kissed my face 
With her presence.

Oh when she touched me,
It was exquisite silk.
Comfort, passion, warmth
All at once.

For years she stood with me
A silent companion.
My everlasting strength
A personal prayer.

An enchantress, a witch
A beautiful mystery.
It was magic!
She was my magic.


Thank you Team BlogAdda! :)

Friday, 23 May 2014

Five sentence fiction: Anchor

"Nasir, what's that floating along the shore?" Myra shouted, her voice carrying along the barren beach.

Collecting garbage off the coast and selling it off to help their amma had become like a routine for them.

A huge crash of the waves brought the object of their fancy closer to the shore.

They ran towards it,  excitement in their veins, giggling like kids on a treasure hunt not knowing it indeed was a treasure of sorts.

In the evening news, it was known, two children discovered an old smuggled anchor made of gold on the beachfront.


Mum and I always had each other's backs.

While she was the anchor that held our little family together, Pa was the one who drifted away.

I never looked back and thought about why he left, the way he did.

Maybe he was free spirited.

Maybe he couldn't be bound by chains.


He lies at the bottom of the ocean now, her beloved.

As an anchor would plunge in the sea, did he sink, never to return. 

Too painful a memory.

What a lucky escape,  people said to her.

How could the gurgling and choking noises in her sleep she evade?


I never can seem to decide what I want to post for Five sentence fiction prompt.

Which attempt do you like best?

Thursday, 22 May 2014


Secret keeper
Grim reaper
He shall suffer the wrath.

That who knows
The whole truth
He shall suffer the wrath.

Trust betrayed
A life failed
What use friend or foe?

Gloomy days
Shaded ways
What use friend or foe?

Understood not
Intentions cruel
The story of their life.

Kinder hearts
Beat so fast
The story of their life.

Crystals fall
Unto the eyes
Shall he know at last.

Beckoned fate
Hope awaits
He shall know at last!


Ps. Stormy mood, shall pass.

Thursday, 15 May 2014

Innocence: Five sentence Fiction

The baby's laughter filled the air, sounds of innocence.

Unkown to her surrounding, dumped she was outside a garbage truck.

The sweeper had had a terrible morning, another fight with her in laws over her infertility.

Finding the little girl in the garbage bin had been shocking to say the least.

She bundled up the baby in her arms, maybe it was God's gift to her childless marriage.

This post has been written for Five sentence fiction prompt innocence

Thursday, 24 April 2014


Five sentence fiction Prompt: Vacation

 "I need a break from this life of monotony", she grumbled to herself.

A dutiful housewife, her life revolved around that of her husband's schedules of hectic travelling while she hopelessly waited for him.

"We shall go next month" he said carelessly, while packing his bag for a meeting abroad.

But they never did go anywhere, for his work kept him busy over the next two years.

Packing her bags silently, she crept out of the house, tickets in hand, a smile on her face.


Golden waves

Yesterday I sat at the seafront for hours with a friend. It was oh so refreshing and thought provoking.  So I immediately snapped a photograph of it. Later my dear blogger friend Namrata gave me an idea to write something based on the photograph. As I put to paper my thoughts,  here's what I came up with.


Rocks of solid glittering gold
Immerse in the waves
A froth of white surrounds.
Waves engulf another, yet can't hide,
The beauty of the sinking sun.


I stand below the sinking sun,
The waves they beckon me.
What is it that troubles you? They ask
What is it you seek?


Oh how a cloudless day it was, 
As you and me stood upon the shore.
The waves they seemed to reflect my mood.
White crashing joyously against the gold,
A prelude of the days to come,
When in marriage we would unite, 
Me, a blushing bride in white,
You, stood with a ring of gold.

Which one did you like best? Please do let me know :)

Tuesday, 22 April 2014

The song of the wind

The wind whistles softly,
Over the cold sturdy rock.

The names carved in stone,
Witness of their existence.

Words assign them equal.
In graves they lie in peace.

The only companion, being 
A lone chirp of the sparrow.

Withered flowers remember, 
Aromas that honored the fallen ones.

Forgotten sighs lie,
On eternal beds of stone.

An old lament can be heard,
The lullaby the wind sings.

Sunday, 20 April 2014

Somethings I'd like to forget

Small story: Fiction


It's raining again.

I don't remember the last time that it rained so. Not since then. It was never the same. Why does it feel like the same this time though?

It feels like it was in another lifetime altogether, but it isn't so. I'm still me and you're still you. Maybe it doesn't matter now, the person that I was back then is far different from the person that I've become. More so the person that you are now, a stranger in many ways.

A stranger, that's who you were at first. It was in the rains that we first met. It was another day in June, a bright crisp morning, no sign of darkness. But as afternoon approach, so did the clouds. It had only begun to drizzle, You'd extended your hand.

"Ali" you'd greeted.

I looked up into your warm brown eyes. And shyly nodded. You looked like you didn't have a care in the world.A thick strap of leather around your wrist, baggy jeans and a simple black T-shirt.  A thin piece of metal dangling around your neck. It was much later that I discovered your name etched on it's back. Much later.

Somehow you managed to take away my shy ways, and made me open up to you. At first I was scared, it had been the first time that I'd voiced my opinions. I never thought that it would matter to another so much. But all that came long after we first met.

It took me a long time to get to know you. It wasn't love at first sight, rather this unexplainable attraction that I denied at first. I couldn't possibly admit it to you. You wouldn't let me see the end of it otherwise. Your ego couldn't have asked for a bigger encouragement. 

It was also in the rains that I saw you last. Your eyes so different then. Filled with worry. Was it for me? I couldn't believe that you were standing in front of me. After everything that had happened between us. My heart was thumping wildly, joyfully. You'd cupped my chin with your hand.

" You came," I whispered.

"I had to, this can't go on any longer"

I remained silent. Stumped.

"You've got to know, I'll remember you forever "

"Then why leave? Stay. "

"Please don't crumble my resolve, goodbye."

Your last words, remain in my ears, like echoes of a bell. I can hear those echoes once again. Like the rains had a message for me.

Like they didn't want me to forget.

Image courtesy Google

Wednesday, 16 April 2014

Hold it still

While writing this particular poem I was rather upset, yet was feeling a little content, a little excited, mingled with a little fear. I didn't know how to bundle it all up. So there's two aspects to the poem. The first is rather gloomy, dark and captures the essence of fear, pain and worry. 

The second one was written a few hours later. Although I meant it to be a Stormy mixture of excitement and fear, I couldn't put the two together. The second aspect is that of thrill, fantasy and all things 'rainbows' as it was pointed out to me by my dear sister. Hope both aspects reach out to you as they do to me.

Take one:
There's a storm inside me

And its growing each day.
How do I capture it?
Hold it still.

Bubbling with fury.

Gripping with fear. 
Bursting inside. 
Hold it still.

Too many thoughts gathering,

And answers vary so. 
Questions are in my mind
Hold it still.

Flooding with insecurity. 

Weeping with pain.
Throbbing within. 
Hold it still.

For you may try and scratch, 

The surface of it all. 
Yet moving it remains.
Hold it still!

Filling with worry. 

Gasping with care. 
Hurting below
Hold it still.

Take two:
There's a storm inside me

And its growing each day.
How do I express it?
Hold it still.

Bubbling with fantasy

Gripping with fun
Bursting inside. 
Hold it still.

Too many things gathering,

And answers vary so. 
Your thoughts are in my mind
Hold it still.

Flooding with love. 

Filling with play.
Skipping within. 
Hold it still.

For you may try and touch, 

The surface of it all. 
Yet jumping it remains.
Hold it still!

Filling with tenderness. 

Gasping with care. 
Excitement below
Hold it still.

Tuesday, 15 April 2014


In prayer I bow, 
All worries fade away, 
My existence proof of your being.


Monday, 14 April 2014

What makes you write?

I want to write
Poetry that frees my mind.

The constant chattering that keeps me awake each night.
I want to put on paper every minute detail.
Every drop of my being and every breath of my life.

I want to write
Poetry that finds a way.

To perhaps another lost soul like me.
Someone who wants to find voice through my words and can express in my words what they feel.
What is it that keeps them up at night?

I want to write
Poetry that gives hope.

After each night spent in wakefulness, 
There comes a brighter day.
There comes acceptance and understanding. 
Making me wiser than before.

I want to write.
Yes I want to write.

For there is no way better to express myself, 
Discovering and accepting my thoughts,
Through rants I call poetry.


So I stumbled across this photograph on Facebook with the caption, complete the sentence "I want to write ..." I stared at it for a good minute before I scrambled for a pen and piece of paper to scribble on. The above was what I did write. I didn't intend to publish it to be honest, but then I realised it was a great way to interact and know what would you fellow bloggers want to write about too. After all, a Facebook post compelled me to write this one!

What do you want to write? Please do mention below in the comments :)

Sunday, 13 April 2014

Five sentence fiction: feathers

This post has been written for five sentence fiction with the prompt feathers. I couldn't decide on which post I wanted to post, so here's three pieces of fiction on the same.


Blood dripping from her paws.

Feathers scattered across the floor.

Bits of flesh stuck in her sharp teeth.

The magnificent golden cat lay in a corner, satisfied.

It was a mistake to have bought the lovebirds, she thought to herself.


"You've got to help me find her brother, I think I've found my soulmate. She was the one wearing the mask with pink feathers."

She was an enchantress, beautiful,  more than any word could describe, such was her grace and posture.

"Surely you do not mean the one with the green dress?" His friend inquired.

"Why yes I do, do you know her?"

"Even though you've found your soulmate in her, I'm afraid she already has hers in me," grinned his friend.


She had always excelled in school.

Her need for competition and thirst for being the number one made her a workaholic.

Yet somewhere she craved for friends, real friends.

She had numerous trophies on her desk she realized, not one memory of a friend though.

She wondered how could she have missed this feather on her cap.


Friday, 11 April 2014


I feel so lost tonight, 
As a lost soul for shelter does seek.
A hungry reminder of your thoughts. 
Invades my sleep, invades my dream.

Didn't you see the extent to which I had drowned myself?
To the way I had confided in all?
You stomped away when you pleased.
Not once glancing back to see.

For that's what happens when you make home of people,
And share In your deepest secrets.
They turn about and leave.
Not once sparing another thought.

I waited for many a days to come.
A sign of your return, perhaps you would someday remember? 
I couldn't blame you for all that,
For I know you far too well.

Far away have you gone already,
I haven't heard from you in a long time. 
Oh why do you trouble me while I sleep?
When shall I get that peace?

As I lie awake another night, 
On the windowsill do I sit.
Looking out at the darkness outside.
My heart with heartache does grip.

I cant believe the way I've become, 
The way that I do weep.
It can't be all for you my mind says.
But my heart does know the truth.

I can't stand the thought of another night, 
To be spent in a manner like this. 
Yet I know, the answer to my thoughts, 
A couple more nights do I have more like these.

Just another word: goodbye

Trembling hands.
Quivering hearts.
Mumbling lips, goodbye.

Wednesday, 9 April 2014

Thrice as good: Sunshine Award

So I must say I was pretty elated when I got the sunshine award from three fellow bloggers. Let's say I was full of sunshine! It was high time I stop being lazy and share the love that I have received from SushreeNamrata and Sachin.

Now Sushree does brilliant fiction, human emotions so well played. I'm always in awe when I read her work.

Namrata does beautiful poetry, I always enjoy reading her work!

Sachin has a beautiful space: Photographs, music, posts and poetry!

According to the rules of the Sunshine Award

* Display the award on your blog
* Show your gratitude and link back the person who nominated you.
* Nominate Up to ten of your favorite deserving bloggers who positively and creatively inspire others in the blogosphere.
*Link the nominees in your post, and let them know.
* Write TEN interesting things about yourself.

Since I am in love in poetry, we are involved you see, my Nominations for the Award are:

Nilanjana: This woman knows her poetry too well! I think  know I'm in love with her writing :D

Ankur: His poems have this raw intensity, awed!

Amrit Sinha: I wish I could steal his poetry. Brilliant work!

Jyotsna Bhatia: MAD haiku skills. Really!

Soumyajit Pradhan: I regularly stalk this blog.( Poetry of course*grins*)

Fiza Pathan: Another brilliant poet, published too! 

Shreesha Divakaran: Raw, brimming with emotions, heart wrenching at times.

Rajlaksmi: You could lose yourself in her page. She breathes poetry methinks.

Priya: Okay this one isn't poetry, but books. Recently stumbled on this blog, love at first sight.

Mia: Her first attempt at poetry, based on a bag of chips. Yes I want to read more from you!

Now the difficult bit, ten things about me:

I'm a perfume freak, I've lost count of the number of perfumes I have right now.

My blog was created due to lack of sleep, hence the name Midnight scribbless.

The word 'midnightscribbles' was taken up while registering for the blog, so I sneakily added an 's' at the end. Are you checking now? *grins*

All of my poems are written in one go and under mere minutes. If I find it difficult to write, I discard the poem. No editing either, that's why they're scribbles.

I suck at talking about myself, but somehow I can express that through poetry.

I'm extremely clumsy, bumping and falling everywhere I go.

I've been a shy person all my life, ever since I've started blogging, I've changed just a little.

I'm struggling to give ten points about myself lol.

I love baking, reading and writing.  I could happily spend a lifetime exploring the three.

I dream of travelling to each corner of India, each city, each town, each state at least once in my lifetime.


There's so many more bloggers I wish I could share the love with. On varied topics like fiction, books and photography.  But I limited them to poetry :)

Tuesday, 8 April 2014

Silences Resounding

Words are the only weapon I have.
Silence is the only shield you've got.

Not once did you stop me.
From accusations I threw at you.
Could it be that it was true?
Or was it your mere resignation?
It remains to be a mystery.
That I shall know not.
Your absence has made it clear.

Your words slice through my heart
I remain silent..scared.

My speech would've betrayed me.
Told you my heart's true desires.
The truth shall remain a mystery to you
You deserve a content life.
Not one of mourning and sorrows
Only a few breaths shall I take
Silent I will be for eternity.

Sunday, 6 April 2014


It was a trap.

She had set the table for two.

The perfect dinner, a perfect evening in store.

He would not know what hit him tonight.

Dressed in her best outfit.

Blood painted on her nails and lips.

Revenge at last.

She concealed the knife under her table, a mere hand away. Easy to grasp. Easy to kill.

Her sister would get peace through her deceitful love.


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Friday, 4 April 2014

The age of questions

I'm a 23 year old woman, who has recently completed her master's degree. I'm working quite happily with my family business that has taken me places in the past three years.

Most of my friends are either hitched,  engaged or hitched with kids. So its not surprising that I get asked a lot of questions about the next most apparently obvious thing in my life. Just a small background I thought I should perhaps give you before I shall reveal the questions that annoy me and make my blood boil.

The ten questions that I absolutely hate hearing are:

1. So, when are you getting married? (Uhm what?)

2. Oh your best friends are all married, perhaps you're next? ( It's their choice, not mine!)

3. Are you dating? Do you want to marry him? ( None of your business!)

4. You're 23 na? No plans of getting married soon? (So????)

5. You know Suresh's uncle's cousin's neighbour's daughter is getting married. (Get the underlying question there? )

6. Asked by those Aunties you rarely meet. "Oh beta, padhai khatam ab shaadi?"
(Studies over, now marriage? Is that all to life really? )

7. Why don't you do MBA if you're not planning on getting married? ( Yeah right! Please explain the connectivity of the two. Seriously I love the way things are right now.)

8. At a cousin's wedding, " You know the groom's brother is quite handsome. Do you want me to set you up? "( No thank you please! I'm here to attend a marriage, not start my own story)

9. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T WANT TO GET MARRIED NOW? (Ahem, what part do you not get?)

10. Mom: "Beta, what do you want to eat? " ( Okay I secretly love this one. I love the way mum is so blissfully different, not once has she ever questioned me about marriage. Thank God! But the one question she never fails to ask me is this one. *sigh* I love you mum, I really do. I can eat anything and everything that you will make for me. Even if it's pizza or boiled egg. You don't need to ask me at all! )

Ps: I have nothing against marriage, it shall happen when it happens. But I do hate it when everyone is hell bent on asking me the same question over and over again. I'm sick and tired of this question, the next person who asks me this shall have a curse from me, to be forced to suffer back to back Himesh Reshammiya songs running in their ears. I think you get the idea.

So, what questions annoy you?


This post is written for Indispire, ten questions that you hate.

Wednesday, 2 April 2014

The rope outside my window

Every morning as I wake up,  the first thing I do usually is look out of the window. It's become more of a habit for me now. It just feels fresh and lively, my way to enjoy the five minute peace before I kickstart my day. I enjoy watching the pale rays of the sun seeping In through the window. There's usually a few birds chirping, resting on the cable wires that connect the buildings together.

On one such day I noticed a couple of birds playing on a rope. They would swing about getting caught in the rope and within minutes would be free again. The following poem would perhaps explain it in a better manner.

I stand by my window,
Enjoying the beautiful view.
Of the vast blue sky
And the morning dew.

The times are changing,
I could see upto miles away,
Now buildings are creeping up. 
My vision of the horizon destroyed

There's a fifteen storey building,
Coming up right in front of me, 
Bound by bamboos and rope around
Covered in a massive green cloth.

The birds they would glide above it, 
Enjoying the vast blue sky,
Now they hover over it,
Like over a graveyard they fly.

Now there's a certain floor,
The tenth of the building I think, 
Which has a long rope hanging about,
Like a playrope does it swing.

I've seen many a bird stuck in that rope,
They seem to enjoy the hang,
Getting stuck and untangling themselves,
What goes on in their mind?

I wonder if anyone around me,
Notices the bird's little game.
I wonder what shall happen of the birds,
When the building will be complete.

Shall they hover about another building, 
Shall they continue the same?
Shall someone perhaps tie a rope,
For the little bird's game?


Sunday, 30 March 2014

Her companion

Shivering with fright, she covered her head with a blanket.

It was 3 am, the hands of the clock said, sleep was not agreeable.

The shadows on the wall, the images in her mind flashed again before her eyes.

Why did he have to end his life like that?

His nightmares were a constant companion.


This post is written for five sentence fiction with the prompt companion

Saturday, 29 March 2014

I was tempted

I knew this day was to come.
He would leave me.
Beyond repair.

We could never be, 
he'd said.
I continued to love him.

 Each broken bit, 
Each inch of my being, 
Filling his flaws with my reason.

I drowned in his delicious words, 
Carried away by his waves, 
Surrendered my being. 

My body lit up at his name, 
My voice shook with anticipation
Fingers trembled at his thought.

What a sight he was!
Butterflies invaded my tummy, 
Words they were stuck.

In a whirl, as a storm would. 
Destroying me bit by bit. 
Upsurged my heart they did.

I was dying each day.
Yet loving him was deliciously sinful.
What was I to do? 

I was tempted.
I'm still tempted.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Friday, 28 March 2014

What are you running from?

"What are you running from?" She read the scribble in the book lying on her lap.

Those few words made her heart race, it was as they were meant for her.

She'd drowned herself in literature.

Since when had literature begun to ask questions?

Sighing gently she turned the page.


Wednesday, 26 March 2014

Ben's Story

The world through the eyes of a child, when I read the prompt such possibilities ran through my head! I wanted the post to be childlike and innocent, devoid of any worry, free flowing as such. So I've come up with Ben's story. One that is quite easy to relate to, the vocabulary limited to a ten year old's. The poem, a child's rant. I hope I have done justice to the same.


I am a little boy,
A little boy of ten.
I'm not so old I suppose,
So my name is little Ben.

My father calles me Benjamin,
For that's my whole name.
My mother she calls me Benny,
Why can't everyone call me the same?

For I quite like the name Ben,
It makes me feel cool.
That's who my favourite hero is.
Ben Ten to the rescue!

I live in the old white house,
On the corner of the street.
It's the perfect place to live in, 
For my friends in the corner I meet.

We have a special hiding place,
A place that no one knows,
It's behind the fence of my old house,
Underneath the water hose.

I play with my best friend Jimmy, 
Although I call him Jim.
What's with adults and all the long names?
I don't understand a thing!

Jim and I have been best friends, 
For as long as we could be.
He has a lot of pretty toys, 
That he always shares with me!

For mum says I can have more toys,
When I'll stop being so naughty.
You're always hiding from my reach.
And pulling pranks on Lottie.

Now who is Lottie you may ask.
She is my little baby sister.
I like to pull her hair at times,
Her favourite candy is twister!

I think my mommy and daddy,
Do love her more than me.
She's always getting more presents,
She's only three you see.

But mommy says she loves us both, 
And made me a chocolate pie.
For chocolate pie is my favourite dish,
That I can't deny.

I heard my daddy tell mommy,
Just the other day,
We're running out of money soon,
We need to find a new way.

I suppose I could give them my piggy bank,
Although it doesn't have much. 
I was saving up for my favourite bicycle. 
I'm not using it as such.

But mommy says I needn't do that, 
She gave me a tight hug and kiss.
Now daddy's gone away some more,
Him do I terribly miss.

He does send home a lot of toys,
Toys I now share with Jim.
There's even some for Lottie.
Although mum is always grim.

Jim says its because daddys away,
That mum is always so sad.
He's quite the sensible boy I think, 
For he doesn't have a dad.

So I try to be a good boy,
A better boy for my mum.
I don't play pranks on Lottie either,
As we wait for dad to home come.


What comes to mind for the March WEP challenge - Through the eyes of a child? Rewriting a passage from a child's POV? A montage of images through the eyes of a child? A poignant or exhilarating poem? A non-fiction piece told from a child's POV? The possibilities are limitless!

To read more click Write.Edit.Publish

Shadows of yesterday

"Please be mine", she whispered.

"I can't" he said.

"Had it been another situation, another day, another life."

With that, farewell did he bid.

She followed the shadow his footsteps cast.

Image: google

Tuesday, 25 March 2014

Girl against the world

Do you have fire they asked?
Do you breathe that air?
The one that's needed today.
To make you a successful heir.

Are there types I asked?
Stumped by the lot.
Yes, they said glumly, 
Tell us what have you got?

Do you have the passion, 
To take what it needs?
A drive for success,
A hunger like greed?

I am but a child,
I said, small and shy.
You'll crumble in a day,
They said, should you even try.

For no person is spared,
In this race we call life.
You've got to face it all,
The elation,  the strife.

What happened after,
Wouldn't you like to know?
I'm still a learner in life. 
I'm taking things slow.

Image: Painting by Bella Pilar

On fading


Musky, woody, manly.

A dash of citrus and lime.

Lingering in the air around her.

His fragrance fades with time.


Image:Taken from here

Monday, 24 March 2014

Admission of hell


The pages of life
Crumpled a bit
Burning bright
Slowly Unfurling

Revelations are at large
A mystery unravelled 
Shocking all
Your Illfate

Battered diaries I have
With folded corners
Leather bound
Nostalgic Musky

My Demons playing inside
Hide and seek
Silly game
In the Slaught

He dies unnatural death
An eternity doomed
Fearsome ways
Into hell


Image google

Sunday, 23 March 2014

Being accepted

You don't belong,
They said.
Go play elsewhere.

Driven away
Too many times
Suddenly he found


A place of belonging
A safe haven

Not between people,
But among words.
His words.

Image: google