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- 13
Waves to Dust
My body lays placid, listless and ashen, in the wide hollow of my ephemeral shelter. I breathe through a draft of saline cadence, with life a faint flutter, in the irises of my eyes.
- 10
A Moment in Your Mind
He staggered along the corridors that seemed to span over miles of sleet concrete. The rays of a setting sun, launching a saffron medley of shadows, as people walked by and stretchers reeled past
- 16
The Musician
My songs are for you.
- 17
Mirrors
Melee... where the northern sky falls in the piquant blazes of the east. The clouds are meandering along the massif, to hold a railing silence in the air... I am standing at a distance watching the massacre of a masonary, crippling with the prosaic poses of the dawn The...
- 12
When the Angels Cry in Heaven
It is a turbulent night; the wind blows softly, tantalizing a tattered muslin drape canopying the gape in a caved in mud wall. A futile effort, to conceal the dismal side of life. An effeminate shadow arches cautiously over the dim halo of light,...
- 14
Still
In the moment of bequest I gave you my words and with it my voice now shadows quiver and silence severs, and still I long to gather it all to pleach the fragrance of memory in a wreath. You are here no more and still I long to hold you in my...
- 28
Forever is in the Ashes - A Response to Bill Holland's Writing Challenge.
"How may you contain a lifetime of mirth in the girth of a garland…? My devotion to you abides by no constraints." Her words airily resounded, as her hazel eyes opened from the deep languor of his soul, to lovingly gaze at the withered wreath in...
- 12
To Truths Photographed, and Dreams Painted.
Nestled in the dim light of an eclipsed moon, with soft terrains of willows casting a litany of shadows, I reminisce an era of perceptual possibilities. A lifetime; of dreams forsaken and milestones unmet. I relive, the story of us. The journey we...
- 32
When the Pen and Pain Collide
What is more serene than an ode to nostalgia, scrawled and sculpted from the sleekest of pens on a pallid sheet of paper? It may be a mangle of words, a coalescence of inscripts, beautifully jumbled and arrayed to perfection. We aptly play with...