I grudge you not Your freedom To choose Anything In your life. I might grumble Yet stay quiet At being Denied Equal treatment. But It's not enough For you. No pleasure Till you grind My face Into this Life of servitude. Is there?
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R.A.P.E.
R.A.P.E. A four-letter word With the ability to shape My thoughts When I step out of home. R.A.P.E. The kink in my armor Of independence; Shrinking me Till I'm nothing again. R.A.P.E. Sounds innocent enough Till you have the misfortune To experience What it means. R.A.P.E. Anger begets more anger; Then why doesn't pain? … Continue reading R.A.P.E.
Choosing sides
I can fight the biggest monster Or fire-breathing dragon With you by my side. But what am I to do When the monster Is you?
Love after life
My husband has another wife. He brings her to live with me. He gives her all my pretty clothes And all of my jewellery. I share my space willingly, Giving her more than her due. But she treats me like an intruder In her world of two. He laughs that silly laugh of his The … Continue reading Love after life
Th1rteen R3asons needed?
Have you ever noticed all the sounds around us? The crackling of spices as they are thoughtlessly thrown into the hissing oil. The whistling of the pressure cooker as it tries to make its presence felt. The persistent drip-drip of that tap you've been meaning to fix since summer. People shout to gain your attention over … Continue reading Th1rteen R3asons needed?
What’s Cooking?
Thinking about cooking up a storm?
She says she doesn’t know cooking
So there is no use talking
Of techniques or flavours,
Or aromas or colours.
The only thing she gets
Is the food on her plate.
Yet she deep fries her lies,
And seasons it with tears.
And sautes to develop
The flavor of her fears.
A quick blanch can soften
Her tough cold heart.
And if you roast often
Everyone’s a piece of art.
She sugar coats her anger
Before baking it with vengeance.
Dollops of added hatred,
Oh! What a sweet indulgence!
She might find the kitchen
A foreign territory
But still she’s a certified
Master Chef of misery.
It’s not over till you surrender
From the corner where he stood
On his one-legged pride
And tattered spirit,
He saw her fight
The demons that crept up
Her slender thighs
To trap her in a nightmare
That would never end.
He found her beautiful.
Despite the dark glasses
And the tap-tapping stick
She managed to glide along
The roads where angels feared to tread.
She burned brightly
Even in the darkness
Till all he could remember was
The tingling sensation in the eyes
After having stared too hard
At the bright glowing sun.
