White and green
Last night, as I peered out of the window, I saw a light shine adamantly on a green plastic chair. Next to it, a heap of broken 1940’s bricks. The rubble where my neighbor’s house used to be. Another space broken down by money. Another old house and memories obliterated to make way for a matchbox apartment. As the rain hammered on the earth, I thought I saw the chair smile. A tube light spotlighted the drama in white and green.
Labels: micro fiction, prose poem, short fiction
nice, very nice :)
Posted by
Gaizabonts |
Friday, September 14, 2007
Your blog is nice. I think you should add your blog at BlogAdda and let more people discover your blog. It's a great place for Indian bloggers to be in and I am sure it would do wonders for your blog.
Posted by
deepanjali |
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
hey, this is super. i don't read poetry coz i am usually unable to appreciate it. this is prose, yet seems like poetry.
Posted by
dharmabum |
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Lucky you! You have been tagged!
:D
Posted by
Gaizabonts |
Saturday, October 20, 2007
i fel this one because i have experienced it. first hand. our 110 year old house in calcutta is on the road to getting demolished for some montrosity to take its place.
the house was called red gates (because of the well, red gates). built by an englishman a long, long time back.
today there are hungry builders waiting to sell parking space.
Posted by
phish |
Tuesday, October 23, 2007