Happily

Dust

And the mirror broke.
[Source – Pixabay]

Living in a quiet and slow dust storm, I wonder if I am moving at all. Just as I approach the wall, it becomes dust and so does everything else.

What makes me thirsty? Is it the sound of future, my desire to see it or the knowledge of nothing? Sliding, swaying, fumbling I reach a well and quench my thirst happily.

Often a friend guides me, though, who borrows memories from whom isn’t clear to me as of now. But I am sure of my useless attempts to gather the dust after it is all gone.

Standing still I come across a sea of mirrors, I choose one and take the place in front of it. I tell myself I am ready to take the dive, the mirror repeats my words and then without a sound or any movement, I turn into dust.


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Unforgettably Yours

Flash Fiction

I dare you to forget not. Forget what not? Try to remember… remember that day when…

… for the first time you crawled… you struggled to walk… you hopped all along… you won a race… you tap danced with grace… you came in style… you left wearing a smile… you befriended the walking stick… you crawled for the second time…

… for the first time you were loved… you were pampered… you were jealous… you were told to share… you were lonely… you made a friend… you believed in dreams… you knew true joy… you hurt yourself… you stood up… you worshipped time… you quietly realised… you happily understood… you loved them back…

… for the first time you felt you knew absolutely nothing… you followed their path… you managed to survive… you built a new track… you knew right is right and wrong, wrong… you travelled in time… you accepted the change… you thoroughly read writings in brief… you said of course… you said not at all… you repented and laughed at the mistake… you cheered your take… you declared that you still knew absolutely nothing…

Everything is forgotten on the way, but the journey goes on… the journey that is unforgettably yours.

*

“Don’t forget now, alright? Go, leave, carry on!”
[Image by Lin Tong from Pixabay]

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What A Fool Sees

Prose Poetry
A fool knows a fool’s way and not of the world’s. He may be right, we may be wrong, we’ll know in the end.
A fool knows that a smile costs nothing and so he smiles. We know that we have money and we can afford to smile.
A fool wishes for nothing and gets it. We wish for a lot, we get some and then we wish for a lot more.
A fool leisurely thinks while we leisurely doubt and because of this we doubt a fool and we think we think wisely.
And so the fool laughs at us and we laugh at him and our story ends here happily. 

Photograph by Jagriti Rumi; Location – Tikarpada Wildlife Sanctuary, Odisha


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A Small Hut

Poem

Dhenkanal, Odisha, India.
[Image by Jagriti Rumi]

The Outside:

Shabby roof and thick straw

Man of passion, hands raw

Low walls, drenched colour

House of the season turner

One wooden window

Candle light and smell of meadow

Dry hands, cracked heels

Week by week and two meals

Dusty earth, dusty man

Dusty hut and a hand fan


The Inside:  

Dim light and a family of six

Let us share and mix

First dish full of love

Last dish full of love

Owners of poverty

Know less and happily.

   


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