Pain,
not mine,
stays and muddles
what’s mine and what’s
borrowed.
Author’s note: Lantern is Japanese poetry form shaped visually like a lantern in 1,2,3,4,1 syllables.
Tag: Pain
Missed
Thin string of love
Tying life together,
Lost inside
the thicks beads of
Vile abuses and angry rants,
Found never,
Missed forever…
The Maze
Author’s note: This is my second attempt at a “first-line story” to break what we all know as a writer’s block. The first line of the story was suggested by GP. I hope I did it justice. 🙂
She wandered aimlessly through the maze, wondering what the surprise was when she emerged.
Her father was holding her hand, of course, afraid that she too will run ahead of him like her brother did. She was constantly barraging her father with questions he had no answer to—how did he know where to turn and which door to take, and how would they find their way back when they have found her brother.
When, and not if…her faith was absolute—nothing untoward could befall her seventeen-year-old brother. He was her hero—fearless, invicible and undestructible.
The maze seemed to be going on forever as they went door after door looking for him. She was sure he would have reached the prize by now and must be waiting for them with the trophy in his hand; or may be it would be a really big teddy, like the one she saw the other day when her brother had taken her to the market. The thought perked her up and she quickened her pace, pushing the doors open before her father could stop her.
She felt her brother before she saw him. The smell of his favourite deodorant and the familiar sound of his favourite love song album filled the room that, she suddenly realised, was his bedroom. The sense of dread filled her heart and her gut told her to close the door before… But, like every time before that, she couldn’t stop herself.
Her brother’s body hung from the ceiling fan—tongue lolling, eyes popped out…
She was screaming until her husband shook her out of the ‘nightmare’ and held her against his heart as he had done for countless nights in the past eight years and her parents did for many more years before that. She sobbed until she drifted into an uneasy sleep, hoping against hope for a dreamless night.
And to think that her brother died believing that no one loved him…
Photo by MontyLov on Unsplash
Mirage | Haiku
Your arms curl around me
I snuggle content, hoping to die before
waking to find you gone.
A Haiku is a Japanese form of poetry with 5, 7, 5 syllable combination. Usually, all lines are independent with a least one reference to nature/seasons.
Gum (Lost) | Urdu poetry
Ab aaye ho? Mujhe dhoondhte jana.
Ek arse se kisi ki yado me gum hu.
___________
English translation:
So, you’ve finally returned? Find me before you leave again.
For ages, I’ve been lost in someone’s memories.
___________
Author’s note: Sher are couplets in Urdu that tell a complete story.
Life Goes On
Wake up to find
that the day has changed but life has not.
Office’s still on.
The child still drones on.
Husband mutters in his sleep.
Parents call,
hoping all’s well and all,
with no hope of meeting any time soon,
with responsibilities weighing me down.
Life goes on.
Keep Your Chin Up
Standing tall,
even when small,
on cracked ground
and storms in sight,
facing fate
with fists clenched,
and face tight.
That’s me.
Who are you?
Image by Ross Stone on Unsplash
At Fault
You told me it was in my best interest–
the yelling, the barely restrained anger.
Then,
You told me it was all my fault–
the yelling, the unrestrained anger.
Now,
You tell me I deserve it–
before all hell breaks loose
everyday…
The Long Walk
It is a long walk down the aisle. My father holds my hand reassuringly while my mom sobs in the pew. He stands with the pastor looking perfect as ever but I can’t bring myself to smile.
Is it too late to cancel?
Is it wrong to wish for something other than perfection?
I pass by her and, for a second, her entire face lightens up but, then, the lights go out again. Her red-rimmed eyes mirror mine.
Is it too late to cancel?
Heartache
I picked up the flower that had fallen from her hair. It still held her fragrance.
Ever since she moved here, I followed her around, hoping she would look at me and never look away. Often, I would walk behind her, right past her, in front of her…
But she seemed to look right through me.
Then, this guy came and held her from behind. She squealed in terror. Naturally, I attacked him. But instead of supporting her saviour, she hit me with a stick and called me a ‘stupid bird’! Worse still, she kissed him!
I’ll never love again!
Photo by Raimond Klavins on Unsplash
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 