Skip to main content

Featured Post

An Empty Chair

“An Empty Chair” By  Pratiksha Misra From morning cereal, To an evening affair, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From an angry state, To a cry for an extra bread to spare, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From the fresh water fish, To the piping hot biryani, Served in a silver dish, From crying babies, To toddler care, From trying outs, To wedding outfits, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From laughter roar, To midnight chuckles, From quieter score, To quilted giggles, From a spicy gravy, To sour taffy, From bitter to sweet, There was always dessert in the fridge, And a smiling nudge at the topmost layer, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. Now since you are gone, There is no winner at the dinner, No one asks what you would Like to eat, No one sits and repeats, How a dish tastes, It all ended too soon, How is that fair? That now instead of you, What we have is an empty chair.. *On this occassion of Thanksgiving, what my family craves for is ...

Cold Stories

It was getting cold
And there were stories
That were never told
The stories that gave goosebumps
The stories that uncovered near garbage dumps
I need to go..
Unless you want me not to
So tell me what you have to...
I have come this far..
Like a missing shooting star
But this time they won't let me hide
They will banish me before I subside
It's true I want you
But it's also true I want to live
Stories that make one sad
Stories that wake you mad
Stories that do not rhyme
Stories that do not resonate with crime
But they killed against their will
They ended chapters without sitting still
They found books to eat
They found looks that beat them to surrender
I need to know..
What you feel for me
It's not me who will decide
But only for once I know
What's in your mind
Or you ain't even blind
Or you have subdued to one kind
That doesn't spare open mind
Perhaps this once you don't leave me alone
Perhaps this once you write me a song 
And sing it in your actual tone
These stories aren't for real
People make it up to cover surreal
Because in stories you can be someone
That doesn't exist
But the listener loves it and cannot resist
But to hear more of them
I have had enough
Loving virtually is tough
You keep feeling it's really happening
When it's you self reckoning 
About a child that followed into the dark
As there was a star that took her fingers
And lighted up the way with millions of  Sparkling delight that lingered all across the sky
Just distracting you from not asking why

Comments

Popular Posts