Skip to main content

Featured Post

An Empty Chair

“An Empty Chair” By  Pratiksha Misra From morning cereal, To an evening affair, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From an angry state, To a cry for an extra bread to spare, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From the fresh water fish, To the piping hot biryani, Served in a silver dish, From crying babies, To toddler care, From trying outs, To wedding outfits, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From laughter roar, To midnight chuckles, From quieter score, To quilted giggles, From a spicy gravy, To sour taffy, From bitter to sweet, There was always dessert in the fridge, And a smiling nudge at the topmost layer, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. Now since you are gone, There is no winner at the dinner, No one asks what you would Like to eat, No one sits and repeats, How a dish tastes, It all ended too soon, How is that fair? That now instead of you, What we have is an empty chair.. *On this occassion of Thanksgiving, what my family craves for is ...

Imperfect

Imperfect 
I do things
Right when 
Someone 
Raises eyebrows
Chases my shadows
That looks so imperfect


I say words.
Imperfect..
That when heard..
Seems incorrect
Misinterpreting
Which they 
Interlude
How rude
That I meant
Quiet the opposite
Without a dialect
Just thrown towards imperfect

Imperfect
I draw
Lines that don't align
As who listens
And acts like they hear
Anymore
But a door 
Thats shown to me
Is reject
While abstinence
Goes Imperfect






Comments

Popular Posts