Loneliness

The day is chilled with the icy touch,  Of the corpse of human voice, And suffocates under the loud, Tremors of the old refrigerator, The gushing sound of water, From the hoary washing machine, And the ticking of the ancient clock, Slicing away time bit by...

Target the Audience

The day broke as a dreary one and the sky was encumbered with solid and mature clouds.   Each and every object seemed to be cold with a feeling of gloom.  Since many days, the sun even forgot to greet the earth for once a day.  The roads and everything around acquired...

The Burial

 The species slaughtered and sliced, Washed and fried, golden brown, Blood mixed water saved with care, And carried out with conscientious gait, Without sprinkling the immaculate floor, To shower the slender pumpkin creeper, That  makes  it grow and...

Untitled

Bells jingle, collection escalates, Mother yells: “No torn clothes, only the washed and good ones.” Father with spectacles on nose tip, Lifts and measures each weight, The child to carry to the school’s third floor, Packs of rice, wheat and lentils.    ...

Solitude

Solitude in the closed room, Squeezes  the darkness to exude, The crushed and faint smell of the years, Of picking mango fruits, Speeding with the wind, Sliding down into the water, Splashing into the puddles, Of nightly fear of hoary ghosts, And curling in chill...