Scared? Scarred.

With terror in bold,

With love striked out,

Chauvinism italicized,

Like the sound of a whip underlined twice,

“Sudha!”, he screamed,

While she hid in the closet,

The one behind the big storage room,

At the rear end of their ugly mansion

Which led to the open, suffocating verandah

Where hopes and dreams lay with the dead in the tomb,

Garnished with flowers of gold.



Ben Commonoe

Ben Commonoe

Within the crowd he walked,164175205_9951e05eb6_z

At the adverse scenes he gawked.

Ben was his name, not that it mattered,

He had quite a face too, and people saw it too

And judged him therefore.

He had the opinion congruent

To the one he admired,

After discussions and contradictions

Around tables and bars,

He finally had notions formed,

Through someone else’s eyes afcourse,

Fragile they were, and are,

Ready to be shattered by any new wave of fresh air,

Which he would breathe in

And soak into before going to sleep,

Before cursing the present government,

Before talking about old times

While thinking about tomorrow.


He was the pied piper of our stepmotherland,
no one knew him and knows him still.reading_letter
But what would you call someone who didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve,
but offered it to everyone he passed by
unknowingly, unacknowledged,
he was blessed by souls worldwide.
He talked in manners lovers would,
but not with one, instead anyone who passed his sight.
With his beliefs he travelled the world,
and left little notes at every cycle, park bench,
every little spot which didn’t possess a postive vibe in his view,
And left that spot with something more.
A treasure of smiles and warmth for the random stranger
who came next.
He spread grins and twinkles like sunshine entering a dark room.
Little handwritten notes, full of positive one liners
or just words, but WORDS.
Enchanted, magical, he waved air with sparkle.

Nerk Xiubzee and Berklee Xiubzee

Nerk Xiubzee and Berklee Xiubzee

-Avleen Kaur Lamba

Two bicycles at the traffic signal,nekberk

One with pink dots on a white base, named Impressione

The other black with blue streaks, named Rapide.

Berklee looked left and right and strode away with her Strawberry.

Nerk shouted, “Berk! It’s the red light! Wait!”

Berklee didn’t stop and replied, “I won’t! Mum shouldn’t expect me to stick to pink and white,

I’m out to explore the world and all its hues.”

“Why? We’re on time for our physics class!” replied Nerk riding on lightning.


kenin The Xerox machine detected who had pressed the go button,                                                                     For there was another weight on the machine, the blueberry juice with a straw.                                 Bzuzer it was! A new intern came along, with something that smelled like wine.                               No, they weren’t friends, acquaintances, but both seemed sweet and fine.                                             The girl blabbered on what a big fan was she,         While Bzuzer, smiled and didn’t give a damn.                                                     He gazed at the intern’s eyes, then her lips.                                                   Couldn’t even get behind and manage to glance at her swaying hips.     While she talked as if she danced, Bzuzer poured himself coffee and went away.                                                                                                                    The lady saw the blueberry juice and the note below it, which read “7?”

Rain, Poetry, Coffee and Interstellar Music

Rain, Poetry, Coffee and Interstellar Music

The coffee’s aroma juxtaposed with the petrichor,Featured image
They say it’s a chemical reaction,
the petrichor, sand turning to mud with rainwater
I believe it’s the union of earth and sky,
Awakening emotions, bringing a sigh.

The interstellar soundtrack adding the unbeatable charm,
Something supernatural, something divine,
A sip of that lactose drink and a word of ink,
Everything seemed just fine.

All my sobs turned to glee,
All my fears I could no longer see.
When the curtains flew away from the panes,
The muscular wind broke all reins,
I could trap myself into that moment forever,
To drench myself in a rain dance of eternity,
Favour my lips with my own hemlock,
And listen to the melody of the galaxy.

It’s time to relearn,
And fly the orange sky,
Wait for the sun to
Give us a new dawn,
And fly with our old wings
Full of experience now,
Yet caressed by the early morning dew.
It’s time to hold yourself together
And let yourself go,
It’s time to go Yebo!