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silentdrizzle-parvathy.blogspot.com

Silent Drizzle

Thursday, 5 January 2017. The most beautiful sea: hasn't been crossed yet. We are on boats. Toppled over each other. Holding on and trying. Looking out for a shore. Under the shade of Alan Kurdi, the first. Second, thirds and everyone that follows. Till we soak the blue red. And leave no sea to cross. The most beautiful child: hasn't grown up yet. Curled up in a womb. Trampled by boots righting the wrongs. Blood chromosome home you us i me. The most beautiful died a foetus. Never to grow up. No, not ours.

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Silent Drizzle | silentdrizzle-parvathy.blogspot.com Reviews
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Thursday, 5 January 2017. The most beautiful sea: hasn't been crossed yet. We are on boats. Toppled over each other. Holding on and trying. Looking out for a shore. Under the shade of Alan Kurdi, the first. Second, thirds and everyone that follows. Till we soak the blue red. And leave no sea to cross. The most beautiful child: hasn't grown up yet. Curled up in a womb. Trampled by boots righting the wrongs. Blood chromosome home you us i me. The most beautiful died a foetus. Never to grow up. No, not ours.
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1 silent drizzle
2 dying looking
3 the umbrella name
4 wrong wrongs
5 pitch pellet black eyes
6 drown screams
7 silence
8 but listen
9 posted by
10 parvathy
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Silent Drizzle | silentdrizzle-parvathy.blogspot.com Reviews

https://silentdrizzle-parvathy.blogspot.com

Thursday, 5 January 2017. The most beautiful sea: hasn't been crossed yet. We are on boats. Toppled over each other. Holding on and trying. Looking out for a shore. Under the shade of Alan Kurdi, the first. Second, thirds and everyone that follows. Till we soak the blue red. And leave no sea to cross. The most beautiful child: hasn't grown up yet. Curled up in a womb. Trampled by boots righting the wrongs. Blood chromosome home you us i me. The most beautiful died a foetus. Never to grow up. No, not ours.

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silentdrizzle-parvathy.blogspot.com silentdrizzle-parvathy.blogspot.com
1

Silent Drizzle : August 2016

http://silentdrizzle-parvathy.blogspot.com/2016_08_01_archive.html

Monday, 15 August 2016. I see you every morning. Waving at the school bus that speeds past you. Looking up from the little heap of sand. You are to burden yourself with. Everyday you wave at them who live your dreams. From my late night walk. Your eyes clinging on to the kulfi I held. From the truck that carried you into darkness. Your eyes still haunt me. The kulfi tasted a little less sweet that day. Yet I did knew well, the bitterness would die, soon. And from nowhere we meet. In words I do not fathom.

2

Silent Drizzle : The Royal Plea

http://silentdrizzle-parvathy.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-royal-plea.html

Sunday, 29 September 2013. I sit and stare,. As another dawn sets in, and sheer rays tease me. With envy, with anguish. I see, they giggle at a passive me. Turn of prey,. But, no. No preys nor feasts anymore, I sigh,. Pounding at the dirty dose of flesh they feed. Growls and roars heard from where I never knew,. The roars , near yet too far, lone, bereft a pal . Roars of pent up hunger, roused at sting of rotten brawn. The sole meal we deserve here. Limps that craved to hunt down,. I pace up and down.

3

Silent Drizzle : January 2017

http://silentdrizzle-parvathy.blogspot.com/2017_01_01_archive.html

Thursday, 5 January 2017. The most beautiful sea: hasn't been crossed yet. We are on boats. Toppled over each other. Holding on and trying. Looking out for a shore. Under the shade of Alan Kurdi, the first. Second, thirds and everyone that follows. Till we soak the blue red. And leave no sea to cross. The most beautiful child: hasn't grown up yet. Curled up in a womb. Trampled by boots righting the wrongs. Blood chromosome home you us i me. The most beautiful died a foetus. Never to grow up.

4

Silent Drizzle : October 2016

http://silentdrizzle-parvathy.blogspot.com/2016_10_01_archive.html

Sunday, 9 October 2016. The apples. The 'kashmir ki kali's. No Please, no negatives. Look, our paradise. Ours Ours. ours. No, not ours. Stones fight and guns win. Trace the frail ups and downs. In the whistle you hear. They distract themselves with. Waiting. Years now. Drawings left by stones. Before they took to the streets. On shanty walls. Dark. Stones can only ashen. Drawings, never bright. Children, they are. A lullaby crawl through the floor. From the door it returns. Silence of the curfew.

5

Silent Drizzle : June 2015

http://silentdrizzle-parvathy.blogspot.com/2015_06_01_archive.html

Thursday, 4 June 2015. I widen my lips. But the mirror frowns. I push my eyes to the spring. To the corner of memories. They rush back to join the lips. You saw my smiles. A few tales of mine you read. But never did you taste the blood that inked them. And yet you say you know me. But, we – strangers still. Cause you never saw my scars. The darkness, a blinding deafness. My tears, a violent deep blue sea. My fears, choking roots of an old oak. Whose remnants - scary. I never talked to you those nights.

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Silent Drizzle

Thursday, 5 January 2017. The most beautiful sea: hasn't been crossed yet. We are on boats. Toppled over each other. Holding on and trying. Looking out for a shore. Under the shade of Alan Kurdi, the first. Second, thirds and everyone that follows. Till we soak the blue red. And leave no sea to cross. The most beautiful child: hasn't grown up yet. Curled up in a womb. Trampled by boots righting the wrongs. Blood chromosome home you us i me. The most beautiful died a foetus. Never to grow up. No, not ours.

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