I have been quiet a long time now. So long, in fact, that I wonder if I have a voice at all; and even if I do, is there anyone out there willing to listen? I wish thinking were as easy as cooking. You could just pop your head inside the fridge and know what … Continue reading The state of Be-ing
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?
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.
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?
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
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?
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.
