Monday, 13 April 2020
Sentiments - NaPoWriMo Day 13
Saturday, 4 April 2020
Aiyanna (Mirror) - NaPoWriMo Day 4
Tuesday, 4 April 2017
NaPoWriMo Day 4: Dearth of enotions
Whether we tease each other or have an argument,
Whether we say unkind words or give a compliment,
it doesn't matter unless it reaches a time,
When we have nothing more to say to each other.
Our lips must not dry in anticipation of words,
Our eyes must not sway away from downpour of tears.
Our hearts must find ways to convery what it feels.
Whatever may happen, there must never be dearth of emotions.
Sunday, 29 January 2017
Love Shorts #29
It takes courage and confidence to express your feelings, but more than anything else, it takes conviction. You have to be convinced about your feelings before telling it to her.
''It must be the hardest thing for a guy to propose to a girl.'' She asks, ''That fear of getting rejected! And girls make wrong choices all the times.''
''The hardest part,'' I tell her ''is always ti figure out if she is the one.''
Tuesday, 24 January 2017
Love Shorts #24
I had my entire self wandering through the universe trying to pluck up a few delightful words and arrange them in my bouquet. The stars were just not right to express my feelings into words.
She overlooked my restless condition and dared to ask me, ''Where is your love short for today?''
For someone already in dearth of words, I responded with a mere shrug .
She transformed into a motivational speaker.
''Well, don't stress out. Remember the KiSS rule. just write what you are feeling right now.''
I took a paper and wrote the following sentence.
''I think I am falling in love.''
There was a pause.
''Thatt's nice.'' She eventually said. ''But.'..'
''What?'
''Where is the metaphor?''
''Damn you.''
Thursday, 5 January 2017
Love Shorts #5
...
it was not a very cheerful day, or if it was, the cheers didn't reach me, sitting at the far end of the social group. She noticed my despair perhaps and let me hold her hand, without a word or for anybody to see. I held it for the soothing comfort at first, then drawing patterns on her palm from the tip of my index finger..
''What were you doodling?'' she asked me later. ''I felt some were impressions of English alphabet.''
''They were all the compliments I could not say to your face.''
I could sense she regretted not paying attention.
...
Wednesday, 4 January 2017
Love Shorts #1-4
₹4
The wet leaves tell me that the night was foggy. My wet cheeks tell me that she was here. For all our conflicts she dug a graveyard, and tilted its mud with hand and love for fresh flowers to grow. Each morning is a spring with her. ''How do you forget and forgive so easily,'' I text her. ''I neither forgive nor forget. I am saving it all for your doom's day.'' She texts back with a wink emoticon.
The spring has been crashed by a storm.
#3
She sits at the window for long hours longing for her moon The night is chilly and she is cold. She fears not its coldness; she has become one with the night. She is determined to stay awake for the moment when the sky breaks down and sends her moon to her.
I watch her sitting at the window for long hours longing for her moon. I pray either she attains her moon or I attain mine.
At times her laughter chokes her words. At times, she finishes her sentence in a hurry to moan. At times, she innocently teases me with her mocks. At times she keeps on talking without a pause. At times, she speaks every word with an effort, and at a pitch cube root of her normal day voice. I see all these coming as I follow her eyes. And yet, even when I know that she is down, I keep asking her'How are you?'' For I hear that most people answer falsely to this question. ''I am fine, '' she says. And I hope it turns out that way.
She greets me with her tender feather touch as fresh cream floating on milk and then begins the theatre in her eyes, where I see multiple scenes at once. Not sparing me time for a knee jerk , she beckons me with the most encharming darkness as she covers my face with the clouds of her hair. Ending the exhibition with her most beautiful smile, she asks, ''You call yourself a poet and cannot write something on my beauty?''
I sink in her air and smile, ''I am not a poet if I write on that aspect of your beauty, which is for all to see.''
...

