No One Asks About Blue

It’s assumed that of all of the colours,  Blue’s the most misunderstood, for where Yellow is mellow  and Green is serene, Blue is the absence of ‘good’.  To some, Blue’s a feeling of sadness,  hence why they say, ‘playing the blues’, but imagine what colours I’d sing of, if you spent one day in my…

The Incredulity of Saint Thomas

It began with a tree and a garden in the palm of an ardent Creator, who gifted the world salvation, before man had recognized his fall. Beauty among us. Truth before us. And in a moment, paradise lost. Until the hour, when upon a cross made of uprooted garden, He became the atonement for our…

Ray (Based on a True Story)

Your name was as it sounded-a candle in the dark,to guide me through the tunnelslifting melodies of larks.Rejected from fine Julliard,you swayed as you played Bach,when they offered you bravadoshould you flourish with the flock.“Alas” they said, “you’re talented,but must step into place”,when they noted that such movementswere preventing you from grace.But you, just like…

Untitled

There’s a nail on the wall -tilted and pocked above some half-chalked sketch of a man paying no mind to the chrysanthemums. He, who makes no fuss about the lights being on or off, stills in the room that studies his window, and welcomes us with the same worn-out expression we oblige. Out of formality…

For Where I Am

For those I have met on my journey, whose path pointed back into mine, by gestures and jots sewn to thousands of thoughts, of this, it has been His design. For the seasons both hopeful and lonesome, of the months bearing titles like ‘May’, with each day forming showers in drought-ridden lands when dew drops,…

L’Arlésienne

I gaze upon the Madame so long as admiration permits, hoping by a small chance, she may take note of my heart-like hands and steady the beating of my banal brush. This mystery, who mutes my madness and tames the tenebrific chuckles of a feverish mind. Imagine how richly I could paint the heavens, if…

Bird on a Wire

Bird on a wire, do you know how to love or are you predestined to favor the dove? -Amy Struthers (Image by: Maddy Weiss)

Ben and Jane

He was Ben. She was Jane. Two children in a class, not knowing what was growing with each paper that did pass. He was Ben. She was Jane. Two pupils in the hall, drawing hearts on crumbled charts and letters on the wall. He was Ben. She was Jane. Too shy to hold her hand,…