Skip to main content

Love potion

Fictitious melody charms and fright,
While, celestial bodies circle the night.

Fiona’s music enchants the mind,
A paper bag is all that’s left behind. 

The flaming lips make you realize,
Unknown breaches the road familiarize.

But what’ll I do when magic fails to stall,
When sand will slip, and the night will fall.



(11/6/2016)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hunger

An offbeat tune of an unsung song was whispering in my ears. Wacky and crazy as it was, it rendered some embellishment to a dead site which until few weeks was just an ordinary house. The tune was echoing pangs of agony and despair, clubbed with an absolute sense of alienation with my own being. I was getting consumed by this vast emptiness that comfortably had spread itself in the house. With each passing moment my sanity was getting compromised, leaving behind a meaningless existence at the brim of its decay. Uncertainty of time and day seemed liberating to this obsolete lump of flesh which continued moving into an elusive blankness. An intricate work of fainted lines was surfacing on the skin, while my mind was still held captive to the new design. Notions, reasons and ideas no longer were allowed to cross the barricade. Faith in the end slipped away from the hand, and hope instead argued its way in. This hope which grew in the land of destruction only could have thrived in the da...

Kalsi

She was certain of the time but no way could have been certain about the fate that was yet to unfold. Past the grounds of reasoning, logic, or calculation, imagination alone was her guide on this journey. There was neither confusion nor fear; but another feeling of a distinct taste was building up inside her. This time she was more rehearsed and had paid attention to the minute details in rectifying errors made in the earlier attempts. There was little time to pack her reminiscences from the past, and incidences from the present. Aware of the heaviness of this baggage she could have easily chosen to leave all of this here. Yet, decided otherwise. Without her experiences of her being, there was no becoming. Sitting by the window Kalsi was staring into the vast empty grounds, scantly inhabited and strikingly silent; and the row of tall eucalyptus trees along the street swayed gently towards their right. In the field, lone stood a painted wall bordering a construction site with piles of...