The Shuffled Pack

We came together when by youth we were led
and loved to play and had no tear to shed.
There was too much joy in my head
and now the pack is but dead.

Continue reading The Shuffled Pack

Missing Me?

Photo prompt provided by : https://pixabay.com/en/light-paint-leather-boot-boot-shoe-316067/

There are his shoes. So where is he?
I ponder as I tie the laces, tighter than necessary.
But I should not wonder where he would be.
Gone on to where shoes are not needed – my tears come easy.

Continue reading Missing Me?

Their Last Date

He walked over to the bench that overlooked the waterfront.

Her laughter echoed over the bay, swathed in blues and greens, but more blue than green. They sat on the brown bench and gazed at the blue waters. He could not have asked for a better place for their last date.

It was their last date in an on-off relationship and he had decided to bend his knee for her, and in his hand would be their ring. And from tomorrow, they would have moved forward, and this would be their last date indeed.

He knew she was the one he had been waiting for. They had had their fair share of fights and misgivings – one fight had seen her aiming a vase at his face. Yet they had stuck together for so long. So, he had realised, they should stick together till death do them apart.

As he went down on his knee, she got up to shield him from the red hot wave that crashed from the shore onto the waves of the sea. 

He remembered searching for her eyes but instead finding tears in front of his. He shivered from the overwhelming pain of that memory. It made him drop his phone that played the recordings of the fateful day, when a bomb blast had separated them, over a distance greater than physical.

The video was playing as it always did: at this spot, on this day for every single year for the past 40 years, and he clasping the now chipped ring.

The scene on his mobile ended with an image of the ruckus of the bay blown apart in a bloody red hue. The authorities had set right the place for the public’s eye. But in his mind’s eye, their last date would always be bathed in bloody red.

A man on a bench overlooking water and a skyline
Thank you Barbara Taylor for supplying our prompt photo this week!

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers Week (May 31 – June 6, 2016) – 300 words.

For my other Flash Fiction Entries, visit https://theblogofkarthi.wordpress.com/category/flash-fiction/

For other Flash Fiction entries for this photo prompt, visit http://www.inlinkz.com/new/view.php?id=636979

For other prompts https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/

Why Am I A Poet

a lock that could be opened by a pen

Is it just because of my vocabulary and language skills?
If so, all poets should have earlier been teachers at schools.

Is it because, the world I see is different from others, that I write poetry?
But then, every madman on the streets would be the poets of the century.

Continue reading Why Am I A Poet

The Broken Walls

It has been more than a month since the floods of hell.
When the waters rose – many fell.

Pride, courage, spirit, and comfort,
All these fell without a retort.

Egos, inhibitions, boundaries, and borders
All these fell down to helpful neighbours.

It has been a month since the waters arrived
and many rose and many more were revived.

Humanity, friendships, love, and  the joy of giving
These were few that rose up bright and shining.

Then, everything fell.
Now, things fall,
Things fall into place.

We are now rising – for we fall to rise higher.
Walls do not exist after the rising of water

It’s been a long time since I posted. Well, to be true, I was one amongst those affected during the Chennai Floods of December 2015. Home is where the heart is. But when the home is ravaged by such floods unseen for more than a century, the heart no longer is. It has been a long time since I posted and well, moving on, here’s to more posts in the coming years. Yes. I recently celebrated my first anniversary of blogging after it had passed and hopefully next year, I will celebrate it on time.

The Hero, The Beauty & The Beast

Providing our photo prompt this week is Sonya, author of the blog, “Only 100 Words.” Thank you Sonya!

With his fingers, he gently caressed her smooth, soft skin.
They were almost cutting through the surface so thin.
He felt blessed. He was at bliss.
Any moment now, he would ask the question.

As he almost did do the honour,
his mind had doubts in the harbour.
He felt queasy. He was uneasy.
From that moment, he was subject to torture.

As commanded by the laws of nature,
from his beauty, a beast did appear.
He felt mocked. He was shocked.

The beast sank into his beauty
and left him no place to be.
He felt sick. He was sick.
The beast had destroyed him utterly.

Continue reading The Hero, The Beauty & The Beast