Tag: Creative writing
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a howling wasteland
tied to a treewas the kidnapped queenwincing at the mirage of advancing horsesmirage of a rescue teamdaunting reality of massive losses her chief magician chantshis voice echoing in the howling wastelanda figure in a picture enlarges into a real beinglike a fast-forwarded movieon rewind to a slow motion scene wearing her crown of planetsthe great…
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Isn’t a struggle a story ?
I stare at the picture,wondering what to write,noticing my first lines do not rhyme and have no consistent metre I question my motives.To express, or impress ?Maybe I digressto thoughts with no themes. Isn’t a struggle a story?Shouldn’t this writers’ blockbe time to pause,to see beauty even in what seems sordid? https://wp.me/paf3ao-n9y
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spill your feelings
have your loose lipsbegun lootingyour chances of success,turning potential into worst nightmares? does your intuitiontell you you’re contributingto your slow progressand growing distress? keeping a secret can be toughlike an irresistible coughfor some, keeping a small circlecan be a major hurdle but for your own goodalways confide in a bookfew people really careabout your welfare…
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same sleep unites them
they gave her water and clayand she molded out history and storiessitting in the soil for centuries… they went to bed at different timesbut the same sleep unites them different facessculpted on different daysmolded out of same clay Different beginnings Same tale from dust they camenaked and not ashamedone by one they withered and felllike…
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Sunday night drama
I turned to find mother crying. I did not understand why. But I always kept the incident in my heart, together with the storyline of the movie we were watching that day. When I was a child, every Sunday night there was this programme on television by name “Akan Drama”. It happened that on one…
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night falls with its eyesores
as night falls with its eyesoreshawling memories of the day beyond the horizonhordes of people return homesome to mess, and debtsmurmuring in low tonesothers return with relief,glad to have found the holy paycheckto purchase their daily breadand peacesinging Hallelujahloud enough to be heardeven in Californiabut however your day may beI hope the lessons can be…
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Pauline
She was lousy. Or so we all thought. Until she traveled. The first few days after her departure, relief! Finally, no more noise and fights and taunts in our ears. Her voice was loud. She was the first person I met on the compound when I moved in. She sounded nice and friendly, and the…
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Her name is Samira -part 2
Genuinely, I meant every promise I made. But fate was bent on testing every alphabet in my words. It all started with the withholding of my salary over some friction I had with the secretary. He made some deductions from my salary because I was absent without permission. I explained that I was too ill…
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aftermath
aftermath of warbodies scattered across the streetlike a child’s doodling on a sheeta beast sniffs the corpse of a woman a second beast is sucking her left breast protruding through a tattered dress she worethe remains of what was once a Canaanthe promised land of the nomads
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Her name is Samira
My weakness was that I couldn’t be discreet. Which was why when I fell in love with the cook, the affair was like an open secret. Was it love? I couldn’t tell what label to put on a mixture of lust, loneliness and desperation. She didn’t resist my advances, neither did she give me the…
Diary of a Wanderer 