Flowers and iron chain

There was a big garden in our house too,
Full of flowers –
Lily, dahlia, chrysanthemum and rose.

The garden is still big, but
It doesn’t delight any more.
The ground is covered with grey, brown leaves and
The remnant plants stand dropping and flowerless.

Flowers do not matter anymore though.
For life looks at me with cold, stony eyes.
It’s tricked me into some sort of treacherous circle.
Round and round it makes me run,
And I run out of vigour and time and joy and smile;
Then there is this weight of iron chain round the neck.

It’s hot and dark.
I squirm in agony, in the smell of my smouldering flesh.

No longer does the perfume of flowers cheer me up.
Thanks for the flowers, anyway.


Inspired by The Daily Post’s one-word prompt, Perfume
Photograph by Kerttu, courtesy by


Swarming with worms
His head’s no more his
But belongs to them,
Those wriggling ravenous beings
Who are eating up the stuff
That’d been a source of his strength.

[Inspired by The Daily Post’s one-word prompt, Swarm]

Ungrateful son

As I see him groan with pain,
I think I must do something,
And immediately I begin doing something.

Soon he subdues his groans seeing me grow restless,
And I too pretend I’m no more over-worried.
But the filthiest thing is
I deliberately choose to believe he’s now at ease.
So, after a little while I stop doing something!

Seriously, I’m not really serious about him,
For deep within I always know his pain only grows;
And yet I…

Inspired by The Daily Post’s one-word prompt, Seriousness

Heavy with Guilt!

Shuddering and panting,

scampering along the farthest wall,

with palms pressing even harder against the sore ears,

I was trying to prevent those bitter words of reproach seep in

and wreak havoc within;

not realizing those scathing voices came never from them who I knew or met,

but from within itself!


Inspired by The Daily Post’s one-word prompt, Criticize
Photograph by geralt, courtesy by

The Scent of a Sunday

Much time has elapsed since then,
Many have come and gone since then,
But hasn’t faded at all the scent of the Sunday
You didn’t come back!

That scent never melted in the air,
But turned into something solid, like camphor, the source of a strong irresistible smell.
Like camphor? Really? But it’s not aromatic nor does it vaporize.

Somebody has actually immortalized that scent.

In the world of my mind, it’s all-pervading,
Occupying even its unexplored depths and heights!

I try often to resist the odor of that day waft through the moments of this day,
But I always fail.

Your absence has changed everything!


Inspired by The Daily Post’s one word prompt, Resist, Scent
Photograph by Pexels, courtesy of

My Old Computer Desk

Don’t look so sad, come on!
Who said I’m going to use you to build campfire this weekend?
Don’t even dream of that.
You’re special, and will remain so forever; and you know this quite well.

Grandma brought you for me on my birthday.
Still remember how glad I was to possess you!
You looked so elegant, so sturdy!
I still find you elegant and beautiful!

But, look you need repair.
Moths have caused you some damage;
You make creaking noise at the slightest touch, and
The cabinet’s got to be mended too.
I’m afraid if you’re not repaired you might just crumble on the floor anytime.

Look, I want to get you fixed up with some best quality wood, and by the hands of some real good woodworker!
But, that’s going to be a bit pricey!
So, I’ve got this cheap and not-so-good and urgently needed computer desk to replace you!

Meanwhile, I’m sending you on a vacation.
Wouldn’t you like to know where?
To the attic!

But you don’t need to worry  as I’m going to get you back here soon.
And I promise that you’re going to get stronger and more elegant than you were ever before!

So, will you now stop staring so hard at me?


Inspired by The Daily Post’s one word prompt, Replacement
Photograph by Unsplash, courtesy of

She Mocks Me!

I was glancing through my dictionary when
I heard a chuckle.
It was the entry ‘automatic’ who was snickering at me.
I knew the reason.
Everything about my writing is so stilted, so forced,
Despite my deep wish to make it an automatic, instinctive process!
The moon too sneers at the partridge that fancies her.
I pretended I hadn’t heard her, and promptly turned the page.


Inspired by The Daily Post’s one word prompt, Automatic
Photograph by Wunderela, courtesy of