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Lingering drops of my heart

Tiny pearls fell from the velvety spread,
they glistened like dew drops on the greenest leaf.
the great fall ended in a "plonk",
which made the pearls scatter into tiny shimmering pieces.

the rock turned chill,
and the weather shrill,
the waves of worry long gone,
and happiness struck like a gong.

the sound of the shattering pearls,
were welcomed among the beings,
some ran for shelter,
while some paced slowly, enjoying the shower.

the sorrows of the heart,
deep like the oceans were dispersed,
like a juvenile pond, by the chilling droplets.
which came from heaven, to bring light through the dark.

when they found their way,
to the broken lands of the mourning peasant,
he looked up to the sky and whispered,
with tearful eyes, "Alas! God's shower is here".

when they landed on a child's arms,
she caressed them with a smile on her face,
and rushed into her room, and searched happily,
for the paper boats her mother had lovingly made.

when they shattered on the weary peacock,
it looked with glazing eyes,
to the darkest of clouds, it spread it's wings wide,
and started dancing with joy and pride.

when they swooped down on to the strands of grass,
the green drank them quenching their thirst,
and the dead rot more, bending to hell.
they landed on the soil and strengthened its stand.

here they were, perching on the branches,
lying on the dampened cotton,swinging on the wired poles,
clinging on to the merciless roof, and dangling on the woman's ears.
and now they are like happy memories still shingling on to my soul.

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                                                                    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…