Author: Sonal Singh
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Obliterated
Far removed From the eviscerated Maw of pugnacious humanity I buzz… A mute spectator Hovering over the rim of the world. Like an open book, the world lays open, Its spine fractured under The onus of its bludgeoned self. Will it recover, ever? Will it be able to snap its covers shut? Add a new…
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A new normal
The streets are silent now. They no longer pulsate With the chaotic throb of life. They do not groan anymore Under the onus of avaricious Or over-anxious humanity. Yes, the cacophonic din is ebbing. It is retreating into The inky gallows where it belongs. But, nowadays… Even the wind no longer rustles. It does not…
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In the sound of silence
In the frugal chambers Of my heart Above the beats that echo I hear the sound of silence. It roars… Pulsating within the confines Of my reclusive heart, Shackled and bound to My closed-off self, It rages… Tempestuous and simmering Like a pot Of roiling emotions It beats upon the hollow atria. It raves… Murmuring…
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Journeys are…
Journeys are… Fragmented pieces of life They resonate with happiness And yet, at times Entombed with the shards of sorrow, Wrapped in sepulchral lassitude And they throb and ache. Journeys are… Scattered miles to destinations Tracking a path through time, They are pursuits. And yet, at times Wearied by the onus of existence They are…
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And, I rose from the ashes…
The desolate landscape sighed. Its desultory angst wrapped in Shards of impotent hope; Still bemoaning The loss of its verdant yesterday It nudged me, Cajoled me, into wakefulness. And I… I rose from the ashes, From the glowing embers Of a burnt past annihilated By apathy. Yes, I… I rose from the ashes And threw…
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Parenting has no Side A or Side B
One day their paths diverged, the couple decided to quit. Bitterly they fought, at home, in court, everywhere they’d sit. Each wanted a piece given by the life that they had let go, To them she was the most precious thing, they both loved her so. Eventually it came down to mudslinging, even name-calling.…
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Be gone thou infernal cold
Come not near me; be gone thou infernal cold! I abhor thee with my weary bones, oh so old. Go! Cavort with the young and the fighting fit, Leave me be, in relative peace let myself sit. Why o’ why, into my aged joints, must thou steal? O’ winter you scare me, in your…