It is the plea of the farmer for the good grain;the longing of the desert for a bout of rain;the prayer of parted love birds to unite again;the desperation of the prisoner, bound in chains...Time is hope and time is pain;time is loss… and time is gain…. © Isha Garg
Many years I've lostharbouring hope like a babytoo long in the comingbut nurtured and cared for each day, each nightwith more love than thatthe preceding dawn only to be greeted stillborn Many years I've lostMany years I've losta meek, docile lambtoo easily led, too caringto run away from the pen where each day new icy… Continue reading Many years
I’m torn between what the heart wants and what people do. Though it seems not like the wisest act to give in to those around, I cannot help but mistrust my heart as the days go by. Every choice I’ve ever made by heart has not been mine to make, and has betrayed me in… Continue reading Choices
Going Home, Sinatra – a short story
The station was empty, save for the moths fluttering by the lemon glow of the lone light bulb. You could almost hear the quietness, the eerie lull so characteristic to my town. Quiet, lost and forgotten little place. Existing in secret. The train came in, huffing and puffing, hooting, and whistling, creating the only buzz… Continue reading Going Home, Sinatra – a short story
Tears of blood
Choose your poisons carefully for the maladies of the heartto kill each screaming memory tear numbing nostalgia apart For chosen wrong, each venomhelps nourish dark new buds sapped full with sad reflection that flows as tears of blood ©
You must be logged in to post a comment.