Open: A Short Story

“I am never going to be someone I am not. I don’t mind being open but I am more of a genteel person by nature,” I say mumbling.

He doesn’t reply. He has directed his entire focus towards the steering wheel, as if trying to solve the riddle that I am, in the slight hand movements he make, while coursing through this coarse traffic. I, on the other hand, have my eyes set on his lips, awaiting them to open and grant me some wisdom.

They do open but just for him to release the breath he has been holding. I am eager. He doesn’t oblige.

As my end stop does come, I slowly open the door and look at him one last time. His eyes are now determined to see through the dashboard to the mysteries of what this machine is made of.

I ponder at the colours of the car in the moon shine as he backs and takes my last view away from me.

“It was not worth talking to him.” The words reach me before the source. She comes and sits atop my shoulder, as she always does. “You can open your heart to me.” She gives me a choice. It is enticing but I would better not. And she knows that. Vanishing in smoke, she leaves me alone.

I have nowhere to go. I settle down on the rotten grass, acting as a cushion for me, from the cold gravel below. I kiss my hands, rubbing the heat of my breaths, soothing them this warm night when I am cold.

No one comes. No one ever comes on this path. And the driver would not return now. I have no strength to pick up on those tiny lights within my heart for him to feed on. But she would return. “I should give up to her. Why wait any longer?”

But she is not going to arrive just like that. I wait. She never comes. I freeze in the boiling sun the next day and the day after next, I am blown away. I have opened up my molecules and now, they return back to where they came from. I am no longer one, as I never was. I am bound. I am open.


Image source


Tempest of Life

there was nothing, to stop the tempest, which has arrived,

a breath of veracity, kissing my throat, gripping my soul,

flaking the past, the withered leaves of memories blown away,

horses begin to neigh, and chortle at stances brought up,

drawing circles of circles, till when the heart tears up,

for the beans of opportunities are spilled, I once had,

clogged blood now run through veins, clotted on pale skin,

it matters not what is lurking, behind my severed shadow,

remaining are the ashes, aftermath of an eruption called life,

wielding the spirits of struggles, at every bend in journey,

I am left smothered with a slithering skin of tomorrow,

a fantasy worded, but never coming alive, just passing by


This piece is written, inspired from Dada and Random poetry. I had written twelve separate ten-word verses/lines and through a random series generator, positioned them accordingly. It is an interesting way to write. If you are interested and write something this way, do link it back to me. I’d be glad to read it. And if you have any questions, do ask me.

A little confession, I cheated a bit… changing a few words(only a few) to make some sense out of it all and of course, the punctuation is to be managed. 😀

I am tagging it as the post for 6 November for NaBloPoMo. And I am also linking it up with dVerse OLN.

Also, please leave a link to one of your posts in your comments. It makes it easier for me to visit you all. 🙂

Image source

I am

I am a drunkard of emotions,

swirling around in circles,

expected to cry words of wisdom

while I cling to the edges of conscious,


I am a prophet of pious proportions,

thunder crackles up in my head,

neurons against neurons playing

the song of my insanity,


I am born to hurt myself,

and mend all the bones I crack

by the absurdity of my notions,

applying salt to my wounds,


I am a sleepy monk of silence,

in meditation of my thoughts,

vain, egotistic, self-possessed,

clinging to the edges of self,


I am a coward of carcass speech,

playing trumps with the world,

tying the noose of binds,

across my saggy throat,


I am the one you sneer at,

the one who is strange, queer,

because I have embraced myself,

destining myself to a life of bane


Photo source

Submitting the link for:

1. Sunday Wordle

2. Poetry Jam

This is not a personal piece. Thank you.

Tumultuous Triple Triolets

Unusual Lessons


bear in mind a simple thing,

 never enter a lion’s den,

 unless and until you have a wing,

 bear in mind a simple thing,

 never ever brag if you can’t sing,

 mark it in your diary with a black pen,

 bear in mind a simple thing,

 never enter unprepared a lion’s den.


Gore of my soul…

gore of my soul I bleed into thy hand,

I deem thou responsible, to never wash them,

drip some of my essence into dark sand,

gore of my soul I bleed into thy hand,

never rinse them off, thou must understand

the crimson demons of the liquid stems,

gore of my soul I bleed into thy hand,

I deem thou responsible, to never wash them.


You and Me

but for that night when you visited me,

I would have left you ever alone,

wear my eyes and then you will see,

but for that night when you visited me

I made a pact with myself to never leave thee,

it is your womb where my seed is sown,

but for that night when you visited me,

I would have left you ever alone.


* For Monday Poetry Prompt # 15.