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Afterglow

In the afterglow Of all things dead and dying I feel the hunger of a lighted pyre Devouring all that was Till┬áthere’s no more. I’m the scream that tore the skies At the altar of the terrible one. I’m the

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To Sadness

A sudden rush of blood in my veins And tonight I’m the mother I never was Or wanted to be. Through the months that I carried you in me I balked in horror and self pity At my unravelling ugliness.

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Unnameable

Thoughts, like clouds in my head, Turn rose and cotton candy white, Red, black and blue like scars. And you, there, insidious enemy, You, so artless, like a caricature, You, so mainstream, like evaporation, You. Who would’ve thought that you’d

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Miss Nenny

Miss Nenny ain’t funny Doesn’t play ball Guards the cats Keeps her kibbles under the mat Mama calls her a Conservative So what should mama get for her – A book or a Barbie?

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Feeling Like a Poet

Sometimes I feel like a poet; Especially when I’m thinking of you Conjuring up your face in its many moods Soaking in the remembered lines Making note of that slight turn of head Your silences Your words; And then I

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Halfastory's Blog by Sampurna is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.