A Throb

My aorta picks up
blood in accord with
the new beat
and the veins are
glad to take the
loop and repeat.

I stand still
wondering if the
feel was pleasant
or a bummer.
.
.
Hey, are you the drummer?

P.S. Ahem ! :P

A rescue

I watch you
crushing his
helpless throat.
Your vicious eyes
beaming with gloat.

Unruffled, despite
attempting a sin,
you send down
an evil grin.

With his gasps
getting worse
every passing minute,
I couldn't afford to
stand in a mere mute.

I decide to end the row
before you taste his meat.
Sans hesitation, I grab
the keyboard and press
Ctrl+Alt+Delete.


Now that is how I feel every time MS Office 2007 chokes my system x-(

Conflict

HE "Smooth it is" "Spherical in shape" "It is dense. Feel it" "They call it LEAD"

SHE "Yes. Like a seed from the pod" Agrees with a nod Feels and seconds what he said "No, it is PLUMBUM. Haven t you read?"

Inspired by the leadshots that came flying out of my keyboard slider :P

Classic - 3

He strums with
incessant passion;

Magnetism and the ciruit
underneath, provide
perfect amplification

Strum stirs the soul !

The physics of music.
.
.
.
Classic.

P.S. A humble tribute to a powerful instrument: The electric guitar.

A note of contradiction

In reply to a certain comment by muthu

Read the comment here

No matter what

comes down from 

my pen;

an elegy or ode;

of loss, betrayal

or a gentle caress.

This is me

I write for pun.

Nothing more 

and nothing less

It is not pain that

rules this world.

There is irony,

absurdity and a

dozen other notions

less explored

You write of love

and the pain that follows;

I will stay back 

and let my pen present

the deprived with

a deserving halo.

Ah and I know you'll not agree to this. 

But this is what I am and will be.

Blood stain

I had not written anything off late, save reading other blogs and commenting. Been a lifetime since I visited the realm of writing, the Writers Lounge. No excuses for the fault lies with me. I am not completely back to blogosphere yet.

I stare at your 

crimson blood still 

staining my 

guilty palm.

I regret and repent

yet remain in a

ghastly calm.

In a moment or two

I shall wash you

off my hand.

You will fade away

leaving behind  the

blood strand.

I remember you

never had issues

with me

yet I crushed, pounded

and eventually

killed you, Mehendi.

Love you

I hold your hands,

feel your warmth and

long for your smile.

You turn away and remain

unusually silent for a while.

I caress your forehead

and kiss your cheek.

You refuse to come

out of your world,

making me feel meek.

I try again to prove

that my love is true.

Still, you ignore me,

suck your thumb

and say gaa gaa goo goo

P.S. Dedicated to a two year old nephew of mine