Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Your royal blood tasting wilderness,
Your charisma consigned to his shadows,
Your being submerged with his.
You were not celebrated but exiled,
Not honored but abducted,
Not worshipped but bedevilled,
Not welcomed but stained and sullied,
Not protected but shunned.
The mettle to question,
The audacity to query again,
The temerity to oppugn yet again.
Defiled and maculated,
Your exquisiteness consigned to rings of fire.
Unvanquished, every time.
Not burned but emboldened.
Not defeated but defiant.
Not yielding but valiant,
Your beautiful life sacrificed,
At the altar of piety and honor.
Your rebel spirit sanctified
By Mother Earth herself.
You, who were doubted and impugned.
You, came to be venerated and worshipped.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
You maybe gone, Gammy, but never forgotten.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Monday, January 19, 2015
You arrive. Crisp and crunchy.
Stay for exactly 24 hours.
And then leave. Unceremoniously.
Only to arrive again a week later.
Repeat yourself like a ritual.
Your clockwork is precise.
And you manage to overwhelm in every single visit.
Nothing deters you. Neither the infamous Monday jeers.
Nor the extra dullop of fondness for weekends.
Duty bound workday.
Frigid and frozen.
Keeping us on our toes.
Deriving sadist pleasure by grilling us.
Throwing a new surprise every time and thrashing all our preparations.
You are needed, yet not so needed.
Like a mysterious puzzle waiting to be unraveled.
Could we do a little bonding over a cup of coffee?
Or would that be like asking for too much.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Monday, January 5, 2015
Friday, January 2, 2015
The curtain swooshed in the winter winds. Baring the wall bedecked with souvenirs from their journey together. Framed black and white saga of golden days. Those summers were spent now. Inside the four walls, beneath the same roof, they were separated by a flight of stairs. Winter burned them day and night. His lie. Her mistrust. His passion for money, hers for living. Both guilty. Both proud. Both hurt. Rain rattled against the window, against their hearts. They stood at either ends of stairway. After an infinity, he rushed down the steps just as she climbed up. The winter died.
Courtesy: Friday Fictioneers