Fire Flight

Far across the distant horizon,
that tiny speck of light beckoned me.
I wanted to reach out and touch it but couldn't,
these binding chains wouldn't let me free.

I saw the tiny speck growing tinier day by day
as if mocking at me, increasing the distance
and I struggled helpless against the chains,
my weak attempts offering hardly a resistance.

As I began to give up, the tiny speck now hardly visible
my attempts of breaking free now halfhearted and feeble
She approached me grinning, lighting fire to the metal
a scalding hot sensation pierced me, painful and unbearable.

I mustered all my strength, I had to break free
escape the burning metal against my skin,
those very unbreakable chains began to give way
and the invincible metal began to develop cracks within.

As my struggle increased in the agonising frenzy,
the bonds broke setting me free.
I flew towards the distant horizon
trying to cool down my burning wings.

It took a few years for the wounds to completely heal,
as I continued flying towards the tiny speck of light,
the size of the speck had increased a little,
but the distance between us never seemed to end.

My speed faltered, my healed wings relaxed,
I grew complacent enjoying the flight.
The same journey which I previously enjoyed
now seemed a monotonous and boring ride.

She approaced me grinning, lighting fire to my tail,
I cursed her again, don't know what her bloody problem was
lighting fire here and there was not a matter of joke,
I decided I wouldn't let the sadist go unscathed.

I fought with her, as the flames licked my tail,
The flames jumped on her too as we struggled.
I attacked fiercely and watched with joy
as my enemy fell to the ground consumed by those very flames.

The fire on my tail had now increased manifold,
I had to speed up and stretch my limits to the fullest,
to help me return from this life and death scenario;
the flames putting my potential to a test.

It took days of tiring hard work to put the flames to rest
My will to survive urging me on,
As the last of the flames flickered away,
The speck of light seemed less far away.

I continued my journey towards the light for a while,
but slowly and steadily the spark in me died,
I looked back and craved for someone to light the fire,
but alas! I had killed the very being who had taught me to fly.

Broken

I lay there broken on the floor
As I could see her walking away from me
Then I could see her no more,
as she faded away forever into the darkness.

The ghost of her touch still lingered
sending eerie shivers right through my broken heart
the pain was unbearable, I felt broken and unloved
emotions piercing through me like pointed darts.

It would take time to gather my pieces,
scattered all over the floor hither and tither
a piece of it she took with her I think
an emptiness which could never be filled.

Ahh, there comes someone to pick me up
I could hear footsteps fast approaching,
Inquisitive abusive voices followed them up,
breaking my self-induced profound trance post break-up.

My mind went into rewind, at what really had happened,
I could still remember me in her hands,
She looking at me with a sense of awe
The love in her eyes could not be mistaken.

After all I was a plate that grabbed many a eye
The bone china perfectly fine and flawless
The most expensive of what chinaware could offer
and she went ahead and broke it.

As my pieces lay there on the floor,
The store owner realised the loss he had to endure
No wonder she had walked away so fast,
It wasn't just me she had broken,
She had broken the owner's heart.

A Tale of Two Drops

A sense of stagnancy entails
the drops to stay as they are;
unmoving, unchanged, whiling away their time
as insects breed and multiply.

They yearn for some chaos, a falling stone perhaps
to bring some change in their misery
but melancholy is all there is,
the stench of stability raking through the drudgery.

They envy the raindrops falling pitter patter,
jumping up and down and going with the flow,
they watch helpless as no storm or stone disturb them
and curse the unwanted peace in their tow.

The raindrops fall where the grass is green,
but these falling drops find the moss covered puddle greener
as life breeds in them, a settled peaceful life it seems
they yearn for the stability, contrary to the chaos within.

A wandering drop rolls down the slope to the puddle,
as the sun takes one from the puddle away,
vaporizing into the clouds waiting to be one of the falling ones, happy and gay.

The rolling drop joins the moss, happy to finally settle
and the cloudy drop skydives with others excited about his destination
the change is relieving and novel, but scary and unstable.

Now as the stories come to an end,
we wonder what happened to the raindrop in the puddle.
Does it curse the new-found monotony
or does it find peace and stability?
Does the drop from the cloud wish to fall in the same old puddle as it falls towards the ground?
Or does it seek for adventures beyond?

The oldest drop in the puddle says
Life is the way we look at it, we can seek happiness in what we already have
or always be ambitious and break the monotony
or taste the glory and yearn for more
or maybe just taste and choose if we want the entire thing.
Whatever you are, the reacher or the settler is for you to decide;
just remember that change is necessary,
get out when the stability starts to stink or the uncertainty doesn't excite you anymore.
Know what you want and get going towards it,
life is pointless without a goal, a purpose to drive you through.

Pungent Love

She looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes
as she caressed me with those tender hands,
the velvety fingers sending shivers down my spine.

She looked at me as I was the love of her life,
I looked back at her and found peace
and surrendered myself to her to be loved and cared for.

My layers came off as she cried softly,
as she peeled me off
she could barely look;
her eyes filled with tears as she glanced at me squinting
"Was I so bad? Was I so ugly?", I wondered,
"or were they simply tears of joy?"

Then the love of my life took out her knife
and cut me up into pieces
and put it me in the frying pan with some oil to go with it.

I sizzled as the heat set the countdown of my final moments
and I wished I would be a part of the tastiest meal of her life
the least I could do
for I was nothing but an onion.