Tag: peace

You will heal…

Glass boxes don’t sing lore to the warriors of freedom when the skies fall and the waters rise. But, skies don’t fall and waters don’t rise in vain; they sob in vile. There are a number of things that may conjure disdain into this world, but no other blade yearns to be struck with thunder as much as the one sitting on the hilt … Read More You will heal…

Hiraeth

Water flows through creeks and crevices of withered mountains when it rains over their pride ridden heads. Heads, as they say, are meant to be held high; necks, as we have seen, break under the curse of ego sometimes. In the end, if you don’t step over this grandeur and pay courtesy to love, a weak neck will make you fall into it someday. … Read More Hiraeth

clichés.

It is a fresh sunny day. You are strolling on this narrow street beside a park, listening to children giggling, riding high on their summer spirits. The grass is tender. It is like a newborn baby that just made its way out of its mother’s womb; too scared to face the world, but too pure to feel the fear. It is the peak of … Read More clichés.

Cages…

Our history has known cages; Of all kinds and characters. The one with bars of gold And the others with floors of dirt. The ones which held the innocent And the others which freed the ghouls. But not very often, When you walk through the pages Of your own history, You land up Imprisoned. Imprisoned behind the walls of Some doomed silvered glasses. Imprisoned … Read More Cages…

i have felt alone.

Often, in life, you spend your lazy Sunday afternoons staring at the ceiling and missing… Someone. Something. Everything. These are the times when you can’t help but fall down an abyss of old and dusted picture albums. The pages turn so fast that this show seems like an unending retro movie titled, “All the times you failed to live a smile”. Scenes are hazy, … Read More i have felt alone.

Broken Cursives…

Have you ever lost your heart in the hems of broken cursives? It’s a mystic realm that draws you in… like a black hole is known to snatch the world away. To the people of stones and metal, it may seem like forbidden magic when a poet holds your hand and walks you through the dark. They chant to the silent tunes of truths … Read More Broken Cursives…

When Jasmines begin to smell like Lavenders!

Love stories! They are like broken glass beads thrown ashore to the dead sea! You, as a lone bystander, may happen to step upon the sharp ones every other fortnight! Then, you may bleed a little and your lips may sin to mumble a soft curse at their beauty. When that happens… don’t fret away from taking another step! In every love story, there … Read More When Jasmines begin to smell like Lavenders!

Bone china

These days, I find myself swooning over lazy afternoon naps. I may have found a strange solace in the cruel lucidity of my dreams. Well, it’s strange how sleep is my refuge in ‘our’ memories, away from the worn relics. So, this afternoon, after I was done meandering in my beautiful dreams, I woke up… I woke up to the taste of honey, dancing … Read More Bone china

Dear ‘home’

We live in a lost world. We are wanderers, miserable vagabonds! We feed on anger and breathe out fires, then cry at the sight of burnt cities and homeless hearts. We gulp tears and our eyes bleed, then we frown at the sight of spilled gore. We smoke ashes, bathe in swamps, wear mere shreds of envy and then flaunt our prides. Such is … Read More Dear ‘home’

Dawn

The night smothered you, With the smoke that rose above, The burnt remains Of your tender heart. Now… Now, your lungs ache, Your guts lie, Tied in knots, Churning, Wringing your life out of you. Coiled like a foetus, Drenched in tears, Is that you? Who carved these scars Deep… in the tenders of your skin. Is that a memoir To your unworthy sin? … Read More Dawn

Ghosts…

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Yeah… They live in my closet, And yours too, Don’t they?   There are nights, when I wake up, Lying in this pool of sweat, Or… is that blood? I never chose to know…   Those eerie nights, I hear then growl, Or… is that, their kind of a scream? I never chose to know..   They must stare … Read More Ghosts…

The sinners…

The thunder is the sinner… It sins to defy the clouds. It roars for the agony, yells curses at the gloom. And oh! How the world gasps at the sight of that war! Those tiny drops of water… the ones to abandon the magnificence of the heavens… the ones to fall on the loathed and barren fields. They will be cursed for their compassion! … Read More The sinners…