the playground of multiple personalities dark chambers     Note : this poem is written using the image prompt from hour seventeen 

Momentous Moment Long hours of preparation The competitive exam, The application process, And after, not knowing Not daring to guess Whether I’ve done as well as I thought. As well as I ought– After the long hours of study. Pitting myself against Unseen forces Hoping…

  here they come again, mocking me, dissing me, taking a jab, creeping onto me.   jealousy is a black and white game. to black, white always seems like a weakling. the sole purpose of black is to extend its callous ends, to consume the…

Sssnake! Hissing, spitting, rearing his hoods, The five-headed snake held sway Over the Yamuna River long ago So the legends of Krishna say. Poisoning the waters, killing all Who chanced to come that way, Making life a misery for The cowherds who had long lived…

One day at a weapons shop I met a man selling bricks For money he offered some swords But I really wanted some figs   Like others he thought I was odd, But before the weapon shop I could leave He said “I can help…

  mischief had greeted a half-hearted smile     Source: A blackout poem culled out from Pg. 89 from the novel, Secrets in a Burracombe by Lilian Harry.

What is it about memories Good ones, make us laugh Bad ones, make us reflect Special ones, make us cry   What is it about recollection Brings long lost friends together Brings distant relatives closer It’s the opposite of a disputant   There are those…

“Fancy labels and plastic smiles, Too good to be true, Are these new pair of shoes, Design cliches and marketing lies, That fooled me thrice, And will again; Offers and brand deals, And celebrity endorsements, All to sell a cheap bottle of perfume. They are…

Strong and enduring Multitasking everyday Seguing into roles With almost no delay. Planner, economist, Administrator, teacher, Sometimes nurse, Sometimes chauffeur. Housekeeper,decorator, Par excellence The family’s first Line of defence. Primary care-giver Entertainer, singer, Whose soft lullabies Still linger In my memory… Who was she?

Once these were busy thoroughfares On a green and sunny day Water rushing up from the roots Processed food being carted away. This was an oxygen- processing unit, too, Till the air itself turned into fog, And the winter chill settled itself down To write…