Showing posts with label Image. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Image. Show all posts

Sunday, 20 November 2016

Short story slam week 57: MARKETING PLAZA

          Image Credit: Megan Sherwood


City Park, Hyland Park, South City Mall, Big Bazar,
Debit card, Credit card, scratch, payment cleared,

Even we can buy sand, bricks, in packet form,
Injection, pregnancy shot, cold storage, cold customers,

In the middle of hall elevator escalator lift, glass show cases,
Children are playing, mystery white packs, everyone buzzed,

Security no needs to think about, all provisions are secured,
Security officer fired, he proposes allotment of funds, rejected.

Black throat becomes red, viruses hitting internet,
Account quashed, no second choice, empty, top echelons

Sprint over stored provisions, easy to accumulate, walk on
Shoulders of own extra index, commons cannot think about,

Commons hold hands of children, press the button, in fear,
If mosquito bites little ones and they fall sick, treatment a far cry. 

Living is free, in fundamental and common feeling,
Happiness or sorrow does not know pretension,
Beloved ones or proclaimed leaders do not create
The sun-rise and the sun-set, ripple on water,
Flowing of wind, and we only watch and read
After effect of an event, surface and bottom distinct.
Sometimes we drop our will, and mingle into instinct,
And try to leave jungle of computer reading,
To form an era of comfortable and funny bending
With those which are lots of good policies and plight,
In the nature and thereby discover inner delight,
Within periphery of bound and unbound,
Inside and outside of all happenings, by removing
Splinters and secrets of war-habits, over shadow
Of formal trajectory of fighting feathers in the realm,  
And we try to think society is not mad man’s dream.

Wild joy within bricks, computers, malls, media,
And marketing is not tomorrow’s refreshment,
We grew in the wind that can bear us like almighty.
Yielding image is speech of life, sharing honor of living.





Friday, 29 July 2016

LOVING SILVER SWAN: Short story slam week 49

Between two silver swans, a fairy lady stands, a simple beauty to guide light for those who are wild at whims of hazy understanding.

She stays in such a way that one can think of lovely appearance of peace, sticky dark may disappear from this fairy land, into the sky, and no fear stays, one can live with honor, its process bears no anxiety, and this comes effortlessly by the way of singing of swans, in a garden of charming trees, settled down at this exotic place without vanity.

This serenade of mystery of beauty, in fairy morning, creates future of life, with songs of birds, over conscience of love, along the life’s intention, with hope of dwelling peacefully.

Dreaming for a while
We stop at a place where
Fairy queen equals
Inequalities and binds

Images with dreams.

Thursday, 11 October 2012

Thursday Short Story Slam Week 29: DRAMAS AND FREEDOM


                                       Tropical Toxic Art Illustrated By Asaf and Tomer Hanuka


                                     Thursday Short Story Slam Week 29: Dramas and Freedom


On marching towards
Hundreds of ways of conflicts,
To the gates of war and death,
To the hate factor with songs,
Flowers are deemed humorous,
For a little longer, thinking of freedom,
Hope is there for different protests,
The image is bright, it is a drama. 

Monday, 17 September 2012

LIFE IS BURDEN, I REALIZE IT


I look at him
He delivers a television speech,
Country welcomes his voice,
He is like an image of deliberation
And he marches on, and dwells in public mind,
As if he is voyaging through villages
Like chief of maintaining of provisions,
Food, drink and dwellings,
I believe he is man of words,
I have to honor him.

In his speech he plays like king,
And he declares, “We have to arrive at
Highest post of our life, and
We have to come out of our burdens.”
It sounds good to hear all thoughts,
He just then declares,
Selling of elementary episode of life,
But villagers do belief to have with it,
And it cannot be sold out.
I think it is a bargain,
Shopping with basketful items,
Air, the sunlight, water, and the nature,
Those are once our originality of surviving,
And now those are being sold out by own erosion.
.

The speech ends,
Flushes of camera bulbs go wild,
Photo of the king comes in breaking news,
I remain as mute observer
Looking at the black hole
I am living with erosion of soil,
As if I am pushed across vineyard,
And subjected to live in wound with empty hand,
Life is burden, I realize it.

Sunday, 12 August 2012

THE GREAT CURIOSITY



The great curiosity,
His eyes blazing in searching image,
Of life ahead, daring in quest,
It is gracious to his peers,
With one hand to hold offering
We intend to give him rejoice,
For healthy and happy life,
That he deserves to have on this earth,
We are bound to give him everything good.