August 25, 2010

Short Story-10

Is there ever a point of no-return? Or is everything such a point?

Where are lines drawn? Will they always be blurred? Or should we necessarily detail everything to its last dot?

What is right and wrong? Isn't it just a perspective? A view we take with ourselves due to what life has dished out to us? Will different things apply differently to different people?

Where is truth? What is?

Too many questions bogged her down. She wished she had a ctrl+alt+delete to manage the tasks of her life at will. She could have closed one application, started a new task with ease or just plain hibernated from all the crap and escaped a hang.

She decided, sometimes, life was better left a rhetoric!

August 10, 2010


deep fried.
like the feet on hot summer afternoons.
slaking thirst with lemonade.
bottled as a drink.
wine is something I should try.
Bunjee jumping.
With an umbrella?
Mary Poppins and her frilly skirts.
Vintage thoughts.
Ball dances with Prince Charming.
Things I yearn to remember.

Thoughts- these are how mine are fashioned. This is an attempt to shape them on paper.

Check out my art work on Behance Network:

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August 08, 2010


Certain thoughts,
I tuck between the lines
It is my escape route
of having said, and yet
left things unsaid.

I may
shimmer clear like crystal to you
in dazzling white tones
little do you know
there is a vein of rouge
in undertones, running through.

Look between the lines
under the sheets
things are hidden
meanings are laid thick
stashed away.

August 04, 2010


I want to levitate, or like Mary Poppins, fly away with my umbrella into far far away. It is raining and I think the world would look more wonderful from up up above than at human eye level.

Why agree to view the world from mere living eyes. I want an elevated version of it.

When the rivers of slush wade in and out of my toes, my feet get caked in the mud. The earth wants me rooted. I want to fly.

Maybe when I put distance between me and this life, I'd appreciate it more. Maybe...

Or maybe in those skies are answers I stupidly search for down below.

An umbrella, the wind, pellets of rain and me... romance never had a better description!

August 01, 2010


A crumpled paper
set on fire
curling up
edges singeing
rocking in fetal positions
© Dryad's Peak
Maira Gall