Poetry
Nightscape
Fog horns sound though air soaked in blackness. All evening long listening to hiss of trucks, cars. Shadows brush across walls as trees
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Fog horns sound though air soaked in blackness. All evening long listening to hiss of trucks, cars. Shadows brush across walls as trees
Their life is hard, As hard as bonded super glue. But in the meantime, It is also the sweetest. They melt your whole self, Neither
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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
Another child has been killed by yet another house-help – this time they are both males. The boy, a child of 3, was placed inside
At exactly twelve noon, she was found dead. Sitting all by herself, a fat old cat resting at the foot of her chair; oblivious of