As your four-wheel passed by

I was tempted to call out

But the dust off the pavement where I lay

Left me choking, in delay.

#satire #society



Mellifluous melodies

Under your hands sleek

Holding that wood bleak

You let it slide across the fret

Melody escaping where your fingers met

The to and fro metal strings

In harmony with the voice that sings

A soulful song straight from the heart

That puts together all that was broken apart

I sit entranced, enchanted and glued

In this moment time flies, I belong with you

And as the notes rise, into a haven I rise above

In that song I found solace, I found love.

Is the war worthwhile?

Horns intertwined, on a plane inclined
A downwards slope it is
Rolling in the mud, covered up in blood
Your downfall it is
Screams an cries the throats are dry
On parched ground you lay
Agony and pain, what did you gain?
Ad that war stretched by the day
Realise your worst fears as the end comes near
Your last breath’s a sigh
Regret or relief, what do you believe?
Is the fight worthwhile?



Slipping down the face

Like liquid fire

Anguished by the summer heat

I treaded along the lone court

Looking for a seat

Lone not the court, but lone was I

For no friendly face showed up to say ‘hi’

The specked face nerd, as some called

Stood bare like parched ground in drought

Distraught I sunk to a tree’s green shade

But the only shades I saw were blue and grey



Let me through- ReFuGe

Let me through, will you?
For I seek refuge
Just for my child, some food and bed
I think I see a light ahead
Across the bars,
In someplace far
The vision is distant
But I do dream
Help me, will you please?
Urge, for my brother’s release
I seek asylum
For I am distraught
It isn’t done as easy as said
But I think i see a light ahead.

Beyond the Fence .


“What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.” — Richard Bach

Meta is a Greek prefix that means ‘after’ or ‘beyond’ , and morph refers to ‘shape’ or ‘form’. Metamorphosis is the term used to describe the process of transformation in insects and amphibians, from an immature form to an adult form in two or more distinct stages. However this scientific term finds popular civil usage as ‘a change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one.’

What we were once, is not what we’ll always be. Yes, old habits die hard, but we are capable of great change. As I described in my previous post ‘ We flourish together ‘ , the story reveals the tale of transformation of man from being  a fierce, abominable person to an enlightened sage.

The caterpillar’s  metamorphosis from a tree clinging, 12-legged pest into the majestic flying butterfly is one of the most used metaphors to describe a 180 transformation. It’s a truly  fantastic mechanism developed by nature, yet while all my seem fantastic on the outside, this transformation looks pretty gruesome deep inside, and isn’t a bed of roses for the caterpillar after all . In short, for a caterpillar to turn into a butterfly it digests itself using enzymes triggered by hormones. But then it emerges from it previous form, bold and beautiful than ever!

I believe it’s always too early to quit, and if you ask me how to be a butterfly, I’ll say we first need to give up being a caterpillar.


The bare top..

The bare top..

So meritorious, such a disciplined child!
Don’t you mingle with these notorious and spoilt.
“Would be a pleasure ma’am!” shouts a voice from behind,
“Sit with him? huh, as if we’ve lost our mind”.
‘Don’t pay heed to their disgraceful lines,
They are just jealous,’ says the teacher of mine.
And with the high grades that I got in science and maths,
Also came along my classmates’ wrath.
Few true ones might stand by your side,
But the rest seperate, with a gap huge and wide.
Top is a lonely place my friend,
Have to battle on your own, from start to the end.
Hard as it will be, don’t quit, don’t stop,
When you reach there, the real struggle starts,

To stay…. on the Bare Top…!

– Divisha Rastogi 🙂



Hey mom, I miss you

And I know, that you must too

I miss having you by my side

Fondling my head, sitting on my bedside

Mom, I miss that warmth of your embrace

Mom, I miss that reassuring smile on your face.

Mom, I miss the comfort of your lap

I miss watching you stand in the audience and clap.

Today my eyes don’t search the crowd

‘Cause I know mom, there is no one there, shouting out loud

Telling me it’s ok if I make mistakes

No one is there mom, to sacrifice it all for my sake.

Mom, I miss the way you cared about me when I was ill,

Staying awake the whole night, handing me those pills.

Mom, I miss that welcome hug you give me when I return

You took it all on you mom, each wound, every burn.

Mom, I miss being carried away by the smell of what you cook,

Mom, I miss you dressing me up, telling me how pretty I look.

Mom, you can be anything and everything for me,

But mom, nothing ever, can be you.

– Divisha Rastogi 🙂

If everyone sought the same perfect utopia, won’t all of us has same food, wear same clothes and watch same shows. They wouldn’t even make different shows because no one would care to watch anything but the perfect type. Opinions would be without debate and all decisions unanimous.
Would one like this monotony?
So why seek to be someone else’s version of perfect? You are a special edition. Your differences and imperfections set you apart.
*Be your kind of perfect* 🙂

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Daily Prompt: Missing

I could hear the footsteps

Against the wooden boards, fading away

I could see a hand held in mid air

Echoing the words she couldn’t say

All air left her in the moment

The voice down to a whisper unheard

All the words spiraled back

As a lump in her throat, a choking world

She put her hand against her heart

Only to find a piece gone missing.


via Daily Prompt: Missing