Microfiction #6

In her, a thousand tiny worlds erupted.



And when the darkness swarmed all of her,

Her cracks and pits,

On her scarred face he kissed,

And in his light she basked,

silver beams, her beauty sparked.

The oceans moved and the stars shimmered,

And in his arms,

She burned all night,

His beautiful queen.

Note : This is not a love poem ūüėÄ It’s a poem about how the moon’s luminescence is stimulated by the impact of charged particles from solar flames besides the reflected sunlight.

My Mother

The word “Twinkle” jumps at me¬†and triggers ¬†a sweet rhyme to play in my head and I immediately ¬†think of the Taylor sisters¬†and their penmanship. Though its “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star ” by Jane Taylor that won’t ever leave our brains , it’s “My mother” by Ann that has carved a niche in my soul. ¬†For all those bookworms out there who love poetry, I can’t help but share this; Continue reading “My Mother”

Open minded

Home was a quiet place and thoughts didn’t run around much.

All my thoughts, good and bad, all in a giant basket, I walked out.

On my way, out to the big bad world, I dropped a few of them fruits from my basket ,held on to some and walked further..

A few steps down the lane and a few of them bad became rotten. I winced.

Should have thrown them out before. Guilt seeped in . Conscience pricked.

Yet I walked with my basketful of fruits and kept them both ,good and bad.

A few more steps down the lane, the basket was heavy and my hand swept in, grabbed them some, and threw out a few, the good.

Walked down more and then it was late, and I was hungry and I looked in my bag and there lay all of them rotten.

If only I had thrown them out, the bad.




via Daily Prompt: Vice


Dressed sloppily with unkempt hair, munching on Doritos with crumbs smeared all over the face, the TV still on, watching obsessive compulsive cleaners, living room a mess, bedroom another, dishes in the sink,…., okay, that is just being a kook.

More to come and more to go,

there are plenty of them that you call a vice.

Hell, they are not nice!

Breakfast,pizza, a slice,

All the pretty white lies,

and all of life’s spice,

brings you to pay a price.

But to abandon one’s vice

   is a huge compromise

  Once you do and apologise

 and on life improvise,

  You will find yourself in a much better place, paradise.