Prose
Betrayal
“Didn’t expect you here,” he said as he spotted me at the mall on that fine Saturday. Not sure if I have to call it
“Didn’t expect you here,” he said as he spotted me at the mall on that fine Saturday. Not sure if I have to call it
Two comrades in arms, sundered by death. One laid to rest, and the other returned, bereaved and full of health. The fallen comrade, resting at
Come on and take my hand, Let’s take a trip to memory land, When although life was not so grand, It was never sad or
“Why does everything have to be so hard? Like we are just pretending and pretending. I try to be happy like everyone else. Forgive me
Recklessly I am taking to my new home, Home I have ran away for, for long. Now it seems I am free from that little
Our little wooden cottage was set up on the coast of the Summer Vacay, not very far from the sea. A walk with grandpa, enjoying
He stares at me strangely This son of my mine He catches me smiling When there’s no reason or pantomime I’ve wondered down memory lane
On lofty land The pure savage bird Builds its eyries With plenty of benign Dark from the human race The majestic Eagle, Flaps its mighty
Keeping my daily journal diary short these sweet bird sounds lost- reviews January through March. Joy a dig deep snow on top of my sorrows.
Virescent lines drawing curves of hills I worship every time I recall her figure, Douglas firs aligned Rivet memories from our first kiss How dry
The news about the murder of a 26-year-old Indian Vet named Priyanka Reddy is circulating the Internet. For those who are not aware, Priyanka was
Dear girl who had a shoddy past, I am hoping that we will never meet again and therefore writing this letter to talk to you,
For years, we smelled smoke. The facade was on fire, still measurements went un-taken. Flames carelessly set by those who ignited lives as if humans
When the sun doesn’t shine And dreams are no longer mine When hopes run out And volcanoes no longer shout When all the oceans
Fog horns sound though air soaked in blackness. All evening long listening to hiss of trucks, cars. Shadows brush across walls as trees
The sole meaning of life is to serve humanity. ― Leo Tolstoy We live here. In this city. A Godforsaken one. We live
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Until you let go of what hurts you,
screaming won’t ease the pain.
The day stars new all is peaceful at sun up a fresh strong breath of tree’s The Christmas tree is filled with a thousand memories
The Walls We Build: “There is loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of
I’m skilled at bottling up my feelings but I’ll burst if you shake me. one pull at a loose thread and I come apart at