December wasn’t sour with conviction Dandelions were travelling far Our throbbing hearts rambled with conceit. Keenly impregnated yet adrift Footprints left the promises ashore Our
Author: Deepti Sharma
She is a dreamer and her undoing is, she sees the dawn before the rest of the world. Yes, she loves Oscar Wilde. A management graduate and a former entrepreneur, who has finally got her calling in writing, which has been her passion since school. Rekindled it 5 years ago when she started writing her blog. Later wrote poetry and mini fiction for many e journals and online magazines. Have won many poetry and fiction writing contests too. Recently her poem has been published in an anthology 'Emotionally yours'. She is a mother of three who resides in Punjab.
Cold Summer
Amaltas abloom hanging down, shrouding the coy greenery. Yellow umbrella bailing out schmaltz’s tales. Wistful yesterday winking through the sweet abandon of her bloating yellow
An Ode to a Story-teller
She scrambled herself off the riverbed, With the puny ghost of a limping thought, that sacred water would lazily tread, ravines of today with a
A Homecoming
Mishka’s smile tasted of Karan’s afterthoughts as she went through the day’s chat with him. The muggy overcrowded compartment of Delhi Metro did nothing to
12th December 2012
The off shooting noise around That worn out hullabaloo mournfully faded. The frozen maggots of that still born December night, Though occasionally feed on our
Fall in Love
Yes… fall in love with words, with your thoughts, with your craft. Let writing be that euphoria where not just you but even your reader
Surrogate Dreams of the Zabarwaan
‘Beep Beep beep beep’ Splintering the eerie silence of wine-dark early dawn, the alarm went off on her mobile phone. Turning quickly to her side
An Arranged Marriage
As the grey sky was still scaffolding on the loose seams of our flavoured night’s penumbra, a latent sun brewed with a purple Promise of
Writing for a Prompt
Social media might have been a fatal reality for so many in various ways but for writers like us, it has been such a benediction,
That Reluctant Pen
As writers, one of the major hiccups that we all encounter is an elusive pen. Many say a writer’s block is a myth, but I
Free Verse: Whatever you love, set it free
“Tonight I can write the saddest lines.I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.Through nights like this one, I held her in my armsI
A Streetlight Named Love
A dollop of your vanilla dream once would melt over my freshly baked brownies, rousing the uncurated passions that were born in my ribs. I
At the Pyre of Democracy
Silence, a wanton death. Weary dissent muted. A ripe nation bleeding amok, let’s rise. Punctured democracy, wallowing in quick sand. A sleepwalk, a moral debris?
Lover’s Song!
The saffron orb latently marching to a sinful heart, A sorry june morn will soon be a yellow charade. Sticky soaked yet almost blooming, an
Somewhere Between Dawn and the Dusk
Through the ribs of her eclipsed sunflower, the yellowed sun was born at the eleventh hour. Wilting cloud and a wanting earth, dawn revealed yet
A Monologue
Dad, This is because you always said that writing down persuaded the butterflies to escape the humdrum of yesterday, and paint our very breath at