Devotion

Beside his grave she serenaded

 An Ode to love lost

 Romeo and Juliet's tragic love

Seeking solace in the arms of death

In quest for the lost endearing charm 

A prospect easily ignored, never.

I wrote this after seeing a picture. I could post the picture here, but I believe it's copyrighted.

But here is a description of it. It depicted a young woman playing a harp in front of a grave in the dead of night. 

And the above lines, were my first thoughts...

A thought...

Questions that plague and plunder

The minds of the untainted youth

Each resolution, a stepping stone

To a life seeking truth.

Mummy

The fever had piked up again. It always did, this time around the night. It was the characteristic of typhoid fever. The fever tended to burn a moment and go down the next around the same time for almost a week. My time was around 8 in the evening. But it had been going on for about two weeks now with no sign of subsiding.
My mother had fetched me back from my boarding school that day, and since the two hour ride back, I had been resting. Now she came with a jug of cold water in one of  her hands and strips of clothing in the other. She gently put the jug beside the bed, lifted a strip of cloth, wet it and laid it over my head.
By this time I was shivering quite visibly. It was only October, I was covered with a duvet and still shivered. The digital thermometer seemed stuck on 104* C.
Gradually, the fatigue of the journey caught up with me and I dozed off.
Two hours later, when I opened my eyes again, she was still there, one hand clutching the jug of water and the other resting on the wet cloth on my forehead.

Happy Mother's Day Ma! 
Even though chances are you'll never see this, I want you to know, I love you. 
Despite of all the childish fights and screaming sessions we have, I love you. 
Whenever I get scared or even when I am nervous, before an exam, an interview or anything inconsequential, I still call you, every single time! Because I know you are always there for me, you are this constant lighthouse in the churning seas of my life...my perpetual light and strength.
I love you, Ma!

Temptation

The calls of the depraved

A million miles away

Beckon

A palate never tasted

Standing at the edge

Peering into the darkness yonder

To what it offered

A new life awaited

Sinful and decadent.

While the old one looked on,

The face of an old man

Writ with the wrinkles of wisdom

And eyes of sadness

And acquiescence.

Butterflies

They danced and they twirled

On petals that curled

Blithesome and lighthearted

Ludic souls of nature

Fluttering unaware

Their wings of flight

In another world

Brew rising storms.

When I was young, perhaps in 4th or 5th grade, I remember writing poems on butterflies and eagerly waiting to show them to my father. After those couple of years, I never wrote any poems, high school promised to be more exciting. And it was during these years that I came to learn, again through my father, that as beautiful as their wings can be, they can bring about death and destruction too. A butterflies wings fluttering in one part of the world can bring about a storm/tornado in another part of the world.

Over the years my father reminded me about the poems I used to write. And it is only now that I have finally taken up my pen to write one on Butterflies again.

So...this is for you Papa!

Pic Courtesy(Click Here!!!)

Z...(A-Z Blogging )

Well folks, this is it! The final day of the A-Z Blogging Challenge.
What can I say? It was indeed a challenge. There were times when I almost, but not quite, gave serious thought to giving up. But now that it's the last day, I'm glad I held on. 
Cheers to everyone who took part in it and a "THANK YOU", shout out to the A-Z Team.

The last story...

My head was killing me. It felt like needles were trying to poke out through my head. I had been working on the case for the past one week without making any headway on it. None of the leads we had lead to anything plausible. We had checked them and rechecked them again, but to no avail. I reached inside my desk drawer and pulled out two aspirins from the bottle there. Working in the police force had perhaps had a role in making me an aspirin addict, but I also believed that they contributed a lot to my high success rate at solving cases. But not for long if this keeps on, the though entered my mind unbidden. I let out a long sigh. There were several bank robberies that had been plotted successfully all over the nation. They were all thought to be connected, considering the way they had been extensively planned and carried out left no doubts in mind regarding this. But no real leads on any one of them.
The phone on my table rang, it's shrill cry splitting the silence in my private office. "Detective Lassiter Sir,, Detective Jacobs speaking,we've had a robbery in A_ _ _ _ Bank downtown. The workforce is already here."
"I am there", I put the phone down and hurried out. By the time I reached there the place was crawling with the police and the public, even though it was past eight thirty in the night. An officer quickly came up and started briefing me up with details. I didn't listen. I knew it would be the same again...no signs of forced entry, an empty bank vault, no details on the camera, the security alarm disabled, the bumped up guard tied up and having no clue how he got there and millions of dollars worth of money missing with no clues as to there whereabouts.  Another officer came running up clutching a forensic plastic bag and handed it to me.
It contained a note.
It said-
Until next time Detective Lassiter.
-Z
Well...that was one clue!


Congratulations everyone! We did it!
Until next year everyone...
Keep dreaming.

Yellow-The color yellow(A-Z Blogging)

My theme for this months A-Z Blogging are short fiction works, they can be stories, descriptions, a journal entry from an individual's point of you or a portrait of someone.

I don't like the color yellow.Yellow is sickness. Yellow is death. Yellow is all things that will come to an early end. The color yellow has it's own diseased odor. Perhaps this unnatural fixation of mine started when the yellow fever plagued my village. Although the color yellow had nothing to do with the fever, I had always associated yellow with illnesses and when the yellow fever came, it only succeeded to enforce my beliefs. It was the name I think.
They called it the yellow jack. I was only 9 or 10 at the time. My grandfather caught it, and so did my parents. My sister and I were by some fortunate plan of destiny spared. Grandfather succumbed to the disease followed by my mother. The village lost half of it's population.
Maybe that's why...that I hate it...the color yellow!

Happy Reading!
Criticism is always welcome.