Tag: picture prompt
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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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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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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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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…
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boredom is a blessing
boredom is a blessingfertile grounds for sowingconsistent habits into daily routines just aseverything has a nameso doeseverything has its place just aseveryone has their tastesso doeseveryone has their pace soevery time you face delaysin your hasty climb to famejustlock your focus onto that Rock of AgesWho never fails, never shames, never wanes
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A lonely trip to Tripoli
a lonely trip to Tripoliwhere abandoned motel light bulbs dangle in violent windslike the balls of a bull in motioncasting concrete eerie shadowson squeaky doors with no keysscreaming softlyas if mourning the death of a once buoyant city a lone guitarist plays for the listening windsmessages that never reach the earsof the sleeping, heaving wavesof…
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Butukwen and his mother
Her son had a challenge. Physically, he was alright. Mentally, he was unstable, couldn’t sit at one place and behaved more like a toddler for his age. Personally, I felt his mother should have looked for a personal teacher for him, a teacher who taught him at home. Or maybe, the school should have separate…
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Tension
The receptionists were new. I exploited their inability to distinguish guests from staff. Slowly, I approach their desk. A stranger desperate to bypass them without being checked will try hurrying past while they were attending to some visitors, and this usually aroused their suspicions. I’ve been observing all this from a distance. And so, I…
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Last time I saw Uncle Maduk
The last time I saw Uncle Maduk, he told me he knew he wasn’t going to survive the operation, and that by the time I am back for the next holidays, he might be no more. He thanked me for constantly paying him visits, bringing him fruits despite the rumors that he was an evil…
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For how long?
Today you have the power to squash someone underneath your toe. But the human spirit is unlike the body of an insect. It’s tough, refuses to die, keep coming, and will always strike back. Imagine the spirit of an entire nation. What is the sense in abusing power? No matter how powerful you are, how…
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