Writers' Choice: Lines of rhythmic beauty: "They were pearls round Mother Nature's neck. The sky was gloomy as was my mood. It had been raining. I went outside not for the fun of it..."
Enwrapped in your black garment when you cast your entrance almost unnnoticingly, much like the uninvited and leave dark strains with your stride You do not seem to notice innumerable drops squeezed from eyes. huh! O' the Merciless O' the hard heartened Why do you inflict pain to the survivors? Why do you entertain their groans and screams? Why don't you listen to the very self that has made you? I chastise you Your very existence You know no time no treasure that nourish the human heart. You spoil, you decay You contrive and conspire to burn and mourn, ruin and rust! O' the agony of You! Why do you smile?? Do you have a heart or Is it to the vast vacuuum that I spill out my agony, my chastisement? How slowly you step. Kill me if you like. I know no fear I know no sorrow I know no Triumph that associates you and your being. Oh!! What??? What do I hear me say?? You look arrogant But you need to fall at my...
Looks like the ‘maid servant’ industry has the most telling job in the market. With ‘begging’ as a lucrative service closely following it, the terms and conditions of this service provides a higher standard of relaxation. Monthly payments remain fixed despite unlimited number of days’ leave or deliberate absence. A month-worn fixed salary comes without stress or pain and the only prerogative is a verbal information. They come in a package. They determine the price for a set of tasks and have the ‘option’ to press the ‘control’ button. They have innumerable excuses to convince the household head and sometimes even has the man succumb to their tantrums. Uncle X, over here, happened to scold one of our ‘heroines’ for lacking a sense of responsibility. She silenced him by shouting out loud, outside, for all to hear, for misbehaving with her. Our law too is at ‘their’ mercy, ( unintentionally of course). Strange but true. We have so become vulnerable to the onslaughts of the...
Let me give the me I call mine, and experience the bliss You gave me Let me hold the me in my hand, and forecast the strength You bore me. Let me be a magic for sometime, and give Thee my heart You swore me. Let me be the philosopher's stone and guide You the message You wrote me. Let me be the song for sometime and dance the tune You filled me Let me be the atom You called Mine, and be the same You sketched me.
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