Poetry in motion, an ideal out of reach,
Radiant in its glory, an impossible hill to climb;
Its form towered over me high and proud,
Yet it had an allure I could simply not explain.
Any resistance only delayed the inevitable emotional tsunami.
Legends speak of it as all but an illusion;
A false panacea for the evils of the self and the world.
Knowing it all, I pursued the elusive enigma,
Step-by-step, onward I did march,
Honing in on the treacherous peak.
Mud and grime adorned my worn out torso. It was a journey through hell in search of…
The night was quiet as the kingdom slept,
Across the wall, a lonely shadow crept.
Bloody fists scraped across the marble and stone,
A superhuman figure made of flesh and bone.
His shroud of darkness, worn and crimson stained.
Lives had been saved, a crisis contained.
The ghosts of his past haunt him still,
Memories of love he couldn’t bring himself to kill.
He wears a mask for a crown,
And wages war against a clown.
An unending war; for the battle is done,
Only until the next lunatic with a gun.
Powering through the pain he staggered on,
Collapsing on the stairs at the break of dawn.
The lights turned on and he wished he had been subtler,
As the door was opened by his frowning butler.
I was born of frost and flame,
Forged in conditions harsh and unforgiving.
Shaped by the touch of skin and metal alike.
Till I shimmered under the glow of starlight.
I was a thing of beauty.
Yet, I did not epitomize frailty.
No, I was meant to be the protector;
A coat of armor meant to be expendable.
I was whisked away under the cover of darkness,
And then an eternity did I spend in wait.
I lay there, eagerly awaiting the break of day,
Hoping my fearless knight was on his way.
But as time went by I grew…
“I gave birth to a monster,”
Said the mother, as her breath quickened and heart beat faster.
She watched as her child raised his head,
With eyes purged of innocence by the blood of the dead.
Corpses lay about like leaves under a tree;
The bloody remains of the boy’s killing spree.
He stepped over his father’s unmoving figure,
Lying cold and damp in a crimson river.
“Mother, was I never worthy of his love?”
He stared into her eyes reflecting the stars above. …
Have we run out of stories to tell, I wonder. Could it be that every possible cliché has made the journey from pen to paper? We mix and match, we copy and paste. Is any new idea ever truly original? Or just a rehashed version of someone else’s excellence. We are told to imitate, yet told to differentiate. Our amorphous thoughts are already plagued by bias; Influenced by infinite ripples of human thought nudging our minds ever so subtly. We strive to conjure tales unheard of, Tales of love, Tales of hardship, Tales of bravery, And now a million paths…
The footsteps quiet, reached now ever closer,
Dancing to the tunes of the night’s composer,
She hurries on, not daring to look back,
Of time and space she must not lose track.
There’s a hunter in the shadows,
Lurking and prowling it follows.
A door ajar invites her in;
A haven safe from sin and kin.
A solitary finger brushes against her knee
Startled, she reflexively turns around to see,
The smiling toddler she had come to babysit.
“Found you! Now it’s your turn to be it.”
She walks across the top of a broken building made of white marble. She reaches the edge and jumps down to the red sands below. To her surprise, the ground has a sharp incline and she finds herself gliding through a massive reddish-brown landscape. Her skirt catches the vibrant crimson hues of the scene as the wind flows through it in sublime motion. The silence is broken by warm music that swells with hope, yearning and excitement as the sun rises behind her, turning her into a dusky silhouette. The camera zooms out and you notice that the incline is…
There were only three of us left now. Richa, James and I had somehow managed to find an unused storeroom in a corner of our ship. I had insisted on taking first watch and they were getting some much needed rest. The cold, damp floor was a far cry from my warm quarters on the other end of the corridor but I didn’t dare step out.
It had all happened so quickly, I hadn’t stopped to settle down and process everything. It had begun with Chief Matt, after he had returned from his expedition on the planet’s surface. Everything had…
The wings of untamed beauty pulled back,
And for a moment the universe held its breath.
And then they fluttered,
Sending a tiny ripple across the air,
Unnoticed, unseen and untethered,
It spread across mountains and meadows,
Soaring through clear blue skies,
Crawling through deadly deep chasms,
Till it reached the rocky precipice,
Where the land bleeds into the water.
And it took a leap into the silent embrace of the ocean.
Like pieces of a puzzle coming together,
It found its place among millions of its kind,
One among others, yet like no other.
Its presence was the catalyst Poseidon had been waiting for
Together they turned and churned over the waves,
As sirens blared against the roar of nature.