Skip to main content

Before the winter falls.

I stand there under the huge green shade,
which shelters me from the scorching star,
I follow my fellow mates up on the crooked path,
the road as soft as fur and coloured green.

As I climb up the green hill,
without much strain on my tender legs,
my peers lead me to wherever I want to be,
we trek in line to reach our place,
minute by minute, we quicken our pace.

But as the soothing breeze gently blows,
the slender pathway tremendously shakes,
and the green shades go flip-flop,
we hold on tight to the slippery path,
fortunately overcoming a terrible fall.

As the winds blow apart,
away from our furry path,
we manage to reach the greener top,
delighted even upon risking our lives,
just to store grains for the winter fall!

- An ant climbing up on a paddy crop.

Comments

Post a Comment

Speak your mind

Popular posts from this blog

FOUND

                                                                    Image: Internet
If you had missed the previous chapters of the story: Click here Chapter 1Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3


It was the fall again, they had gone for a stroll outside the university campus into the beautiful park where snowy trees surrounded the white spread and there were very few passers-by due to the freezing chill.
The two of them hovered around enjoying the beauty carpeted around them. Maureen had already gone down, working her gloved hands into the snowy layers. She started rolling a huge ice ball with a grin on her pink face. Steve looked at her dazed by the tinkle of her eyes and the jingle that her laughter spread in his heart.  The moist wind ruffled her blond hair, some of which fell onto her face like a wave onto the shores.
Steve just stood there with his hands folded, his lips curved into a mesmerizing smile and his eyebrows were arched in sheer amazement of what was happening to him that moment.   He felt…

Being humane

Every dawn dooms with wail


I never opine but in my daze,

For I am human, humane.

Image courtesy: Internet

To write is to dwell

FEBRUARY 15th, 2012





















What writing means to me...

As lonely as a cloud, as boring as boredom itself, I was. I grew up as a typical child at school but a very hefty one, I am still the same. I managed to cheer people with my innocence but did not manage to make happy friends to last a lifetime because of my gross physique. I couldn't play as I had no playmates at home and my only hobby was to sit and watch tv.

When I was studying in kindergarten, I used to visit a nearby shop with my dad. My dad was busy shopping for groceries and I engaged myself in observing things around me. The people who had mixed emotions that outshone on their faces, an old man cycling with a lot of strain, probably getting back home, the lady vendor with her dirty saree pinned up to her waist and squatting on the floor, selling vegetables, the autowala bargaining with his potential customer, the green trees which arched high with its countless leaves, the flowers that smile at me on the road side, happy child…