The show

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The show

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Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. He clutched his chest both with pain and skepticism of a dreadful tomorrow. He stood on the stage illuminated in the limelight of his frail previsions.
” Just give your best in the concert.  Be strong .Thereafter, we shall move on to your next round of chemo…..” Somehow, the doctor’s words brought him solace today.
His hands had turned cold and his knees shook. The drapes in red stretched in front of him were the only demarcation that kept him from the bustling crowd outside.
The musicians behind him were all positioned appropriately.
The lights above him flickered to life. He clutched the microphone harder as the curtains parted gradually.

The stars tonight shall shine
  In shadows of yesteryears
  Because the dying star
  Has been born again.
  Let the curtains part in glory
  For the show has just begun…’
 
  
 

The plea.

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The plea.

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Mother ! Mother! Where are you?
The breeze has turned cold and the dusk has fast approached. Birds have found their distant abodes. The crowd in the streets is rapidly thinning.I lie await of the toffees you promised.

The sky is dazzling with stars and a lonely moon. I yearn to be in your arms, mother. Won’t you raise me up and sing a lullaby?
My knees hurt and my throat is dry. I see fewer strangers gathered around me .They look frightening and inquisitive. Wish you could hear my plea.

The flowers on my skirt are wilting and falling apart. Don’t you care about them too? My eyes are wet and I feel dizzy. Come and take me home. I would just do anything to be there with you.
Mother! Mother! Where are you?

Flash fiction

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Flash fiction

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Pallid sketches of twilight dance on the frontiers of his face. The creases on his wrinkly shirt murmur despicably as they stick to his withered body. He crawls closer to my feet. I’m no drunkard’s mercy .I scoff.
I look up towards the sky. The moon was at its fullest tonight.
I see an overview of the houses that sat with their torsos clinging to each other. They mock at my loneliness.
Somewhere in the neighbouring streets, dogs howl wolfishly.
I look down at the man gathered at my feet and imagine his wife sitting by the window in anticipation of her husband as she puts her children to sleep.
The stars of the sky camouflage as sunlight creeps with the first breath of dawn. I dim out. I’m a street lamp and my work is over for the night. I close my eyes as the city comes to life.

Deception

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You took me by surprise;
The flowery grin brewing on your lips
Had more than what met the eye.

The cold monsoon breeze
Flushed in through the blinds
Sweeping with it your breath ;
A Light inebriating pang Of hooch and conspiracy of betrayal.
You made me feel nauseated.

Your gaze no longer seemed to hold mine
Instead, they escaped in obvious stealth.
Searching, scrutinizing, seeking
Shelter in daft alibis.

You draped me in colours of deception
And the emotionless tears that crept from your eyes
Couldn’t as much as wash them away
And I was left wailing in a veil
Of my own broken trust and ruptured faith.

Poetry-Morning

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Poetry-Morning

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The morning sun
Impregnates the air
With  serendipity
Of  a virginal daybreak;
Sprouting thistles
Murmur insignificantly
Swaying in unison;
Youthful florets
Blossom in a conceited
Poise; oblivious
Of the deceitfulness
Of an impending dusk.
Gurgling rivulets twinkle
Mirth in unfeigned luster;
The expansive meadows
Furrow their harvested brows
In an insatiable wait
For the monsoons.
Proliferated sunflowers
Frolic in rhythm with
The light rays peeking
Through leafy niches
Of shrubby growths.
Dainty dandelions
Whisper serenity
In feeble attempts.
I stand starry-eyed
By the window
Assaulted by the
Fresh whiff of morning incense;
I delight myself
In yet another
Desire to pluck the day
As it comes my way!

Dreams with wings

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Dreams with wings

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Brazed,bruised paths
Draped in a carpet
Of trivial footsteps.
I Drown in wilted
Aspirations of yet
another hateful tomorrow;
Beads of perspiration
Whisper sneeringly;
Snipping apart my
Skin in fierce dissatisfaction;
Pallid thoughts
Glow in whimpering limelight.
The desk lamp whines
With piled work.
I close my eyes
To scare away daft previsions.
My fingers scrunch
And grab a reed;
My mind feels light
As I ooze dreams
Onto the paper which
I see, have grown wings.