Writing
Writing to escape. Writing to think. Writing to record. Writing to reflect. Writing for movement. Writing for joy. Writing for clarity. Writing for me.
Little Johnny wants to play
The gloomy grey environs And the downpours are sirens For eerie sounds of emptiness And constant manifestations of restlessness. The clingy gust The confined existence The floors washed off their dust The reason to increase social distance. Not sure what I feel about them. The rains.
Little Johnny wants to play Read More »
The post
Colored views Broken images Frantic blues Countless blemishes Grapevine airs Glossy profiles Intended snares Calculated exiles Unapologetic voices Unspoken chronicles Unheard choices Unending theatricals #InformationAge Or #CognitiveCage
Fabled history
Once upon a time As the fable unfurls Of witches with half a dime And princes and countrymen and demure girls Of vulnerability and valor And lost glass shoes Of glory and glamour And the Charming’s muse Of golden tresses And dreamy palaces Of Satin dresses And coy embraces Of gallant acts And an occasional
Lost and Found
I was lost In the depths of his voice, In the calm of his presence That silenced all noise. I was lost In the intensity of his eyes In the zest of his discoveries Laced with advice. I was lost In the certainty of his smile In his chivalrous refutation That got me thinking for
Silence
The smile would appeal The gaze would reveal The touch would awaken The warmth would enliven T’was mesmerizing The silence. The energy would intoxicate The cackle would illuminate The movement would entice The embrace would suffice T’was mesmerizing The silence. Yours and mine. The silence.
Platform 9 3/4
The station was witness To growing fondness, He didn’t miss a day Made her ride back home Delightful in every way. The crowds didn’t matter, His words uttered With an intent to flatter They drifted hand in hand Through most part of busy land. They bid adieu Only to meet the next day too Never