With careful gray strokes,

She painted the wet sky,

Whilst singing for him,

A tear-stained rhapsody.


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Micro Tale #1

        ‘A Building Architect’

                     The certificate Read.

 ‘A budding poet’

              Her diary said.



As You Grow Up

Someday, you will wake up,
Leaving swings and kite strings;
Learning lies and fake smiles,
With a bunch of questions
Clasping your young hand.

Their raised eyebrows,
Will search for a flaw,
Rather than your glow.
Behind stumbling words
And mumbling walls,
You will see them,
Peeking at the one you plucked,
Among scores you planted.

Soon,they will be seen,
In a million spying eyes
As you grow further,
Losing the child in you.
And that’s how
The wicked world
Welcomes you,
My darling.



Masks of Pretence

We fall in love,

less with people

and more with their well-crafted masks.

Then we wonder

how do they change like seasons

when they only replace masks

once it is worn-out.


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You came as a wind,

splashing wild hues

in my blankness.

Then you went,

leaving an art half-done.


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Featured post


The depth of black

No longer stack

Her deepest fears or darkest dreams

For she found in it

A tint of her wild spirit

Tamed by none.


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