in the space between loving another and accepting my follies … Continue reading Maturity
Maturity
Unreal
I realized only now what a boring person I have become. I checked up Wiktionary for words ending with -gasm, only to leave the site uninspired. The picture of gooey chocolate on the prompt did send an anticipation of pleasure to my mind. If there was a word to describe love for good clothes and … Continue reading Unreal
Being loved
Grotesqueness overpowers goodwill. My affectionate gestures are spurned, as people move away from me. I don’t know how Little Jamie finds me interesting. He knows a little about dinosaurs, and explores the uneven contours of my body to add to his meagre knowledge. He speaks to me for hours, tells me about his teachers and … Continue reading Being loved
Wastrel? No….
I received an unexpected call from one of my schoolmates. “My daughter and son-in-law are passing through your city, and are new to the place. They might call you if they need something.” “Sure”, I muttered through my breath, “they are welcome anytime.” My head was buzzing – a married daughter? He was not old … Continue reading Wastrel? No….
Retrofitting the soul
The suburbs compete with city centers to become Smart Cities under a national drive. Malls and overbridges are planned, so are new commercial centers to encash the increased flow. I don’t see any difference in dressing styles between the metro cities and suburbs. Online shopping has been a great leveller. The government directives call it … Continue reading Retrofitting the soul
Glaciers
disarmed by glacier eyes, I forgot to blink dreams unlimited, yet could not sleep a wink I will meet you tomorrow, in your blue world to break the ice, whether I swim or sink MTB-Variations of the Rubaiyat at dVerse
Life Always Wins
On learning myself
For the dverse prompt, a couple of stanzas in the style of the Rubaiyat.
What did I dream before the words took hold
Before the sun, the moon, the stars grew old?
I squandered time, knew little of its worth,
Beneath soft nights of silver, days of gold.
The hand, the heart that guide the words to birth
Have grown in strength, an oak tree’s mighty girth,
Your face before me lighting day and night,
I learn to write the beauty of our earth.
Why?
Years turning to decades and then centuries pages of fluttering calendars captured in devices entrenched in our lives Yet The essence of time Elusive, controversial a subject of intense discussion Yardsticks devised to measure and control time look back at their evolution in time Youthful internet sprinting along to overtake yeasting wisdom … Continue reading Why?
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