A thing which had been discarded and, instead of having been disposed off with the other useless things, had found refuge in the solitary ward of Number 7. It was the most beautiful thing in the entire asylum, more beautiful than the bed of wild flowers along the wall of the compound.
I Remember…
I sauntered down the same path today Retracing every step we walked, it seems like yesterday Tugging at your finger and scrambling “Race you to the brook!” I began running. Your laughter rang in my ears
IF ONLY
The cool water foams at my feet Washing the sand back to the sea I look in the distance the giant orange ball sinking Casting a subtly queer glow twilight sets in
The Clouds’ Tale
Look at the clouds, they tell a story Of untold woes and songs of glory. Woes always hidden, never seen;
THE BELL JAR- SYLVIA PLATH (1963)
“I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: I am, I am, I am.” The Bell Jar is an unusual novel bottled with every emotion you can think of.
Over The Rainbow
“Where am I?” she wondered. It was a totally new place but she got the déjà vu feeling just being there. The strange sense of familiarity increased as she kept going. No doubt, it was beautiful. How could it not be? The clouds were fluffy and the rainbow? That rainbow looked like it was tattooed…
The Secret Niche
I open the door and step inside This dimension of mine
Let It
Let your thoughts flow Let your wisdom grow
The Veiled Enchantress
Glorious beauty shrouded, She floated in the black expanse.
The Room
The room was neat. Books were arranged in the order of their height. Old, new, worn out and some untouched. A bunch of papers were neatly stacked deliberately next to an ink pen. A journal with frayed edges lay majestically on top of the papers, despite its ancient look.
