Skip to main content

His grief

God visited the garden;
His own creation
It lay barren

Some had wilted
While in the womb
Others were butchered
Before even they bloomed

Inside a shrine 
they were revered
Anywhere else, threatened

He had created the man, Alas! 
Now, He cried.

______________
Words:42
In response to the question: Where have all the flowers gone?




Comments

  1. Wow Uma, so poignant and it really painted a picture in my head :). Keep writing!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks a lot, Aparna...loved your comment.:-))))

      Delete
  2. "Inside a shrine
    they were revered
    Anywhere else, threatened"

    Sad state of women!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. yes, Mridubala..definitely sad!

      Delete
  3. lovely,Uma...well said

    ReplyDelete
  4. very nice with a deep meaning...really liked this :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks a lot, Ankita for reading and appreciating! :-)

      Delete
  5. WOW, this was sad but WOW. You really blew me away with this one. Man has created some awful things...abortion among the worst. Brilliant! ♥

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Kathy, I'm so glad to see this comment from you! Yes, a cruel reality indeed :-(

      Delete
  6. Love this, I can believe it to be true.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for your appreciation!

      Delete
  7. Such beautiful words of poetry, Uma. I'm in awe :) Simply loved the second stanza!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Humbled, Aathira, thanks! I love the way you write :-)

      Delete
  8. So starkly written, and so sad...

    ReplyDelete
  9. I liked the simple tone of it and yet the larger meaning.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Barren on so many levels...lots of meaning in this short piece!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for the appreciation, Jennifer!

      Delete
  11. Lovely to think there is a space where those flowers are revered. Well written, very nice!

    ReplyDelete
  12. Best of yours, I would say. Such a profound insight!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Would love to hear from you :-)
Also, please click the subscribe by Email link below the comment form to get follow-up comments to your inbox..

Popular posts from this blog

Cross over- Micro-prose in 50 words

Tread on gently.

It's tough to say goodbye. Even when you know it's desirable. Explain, if you must, but keep it short. Do not mock the tears that might flow out. Don't utter words that you'd regret.

A schism has been formed, but there's no need to burn the bridge.

_______

Caffeinated attraction

Words jostled inside Anusha's head as she snaked her way between the tables to her favourite spot in the cozy cafe. She slid her laptop out, rested the bag beside her on the silver grey cushioned sofa and called for her favourite cappuccino. They made it just the way she preferred: the right amount of milk and coffee, the closest alternative to the filter kaapi her mom made.

Gazing out of the glass window, she sipped her beverage, letting the bitter-sweet taste linger, weighing her thoughts before her fingers could fly on the keyboard to give shape to them. The white fluffs of clouds against the clear blue skies floated gently with the summer breeze and they seemed, to the writer in her, like mischevious sheep that had strayed off the flock.

Oh, well, it's my mind that's straying now. Need to get my act right for my next submission. Anusha willed herself back to the present.

The cafe was Anusha's muse, the mecca she haunted during the weekends for the past three months…

Rotting humanity

Doc, there's an emergency!

The breaking news flashes the brutal carnage. Images and voices float in my mind as I drive in manic speed to the hospital.

Of sirens blazing. Of toys and limbs lying scattered on a carpet of red and brown.

Oxygen! I scream. Pump, harder.

Doc, there's no pulse.

Shoulders slump.

I witness grief fuse into flames that rise up collectively at the mass funeral. The ashes fall lightly on me.

Will the stench of hate ever recede?

*** Written for a prompt at