One day,smoke will rise high from the widow’s chimney, for she will have a reason to be alive once again. Children will run with snot on their facesand wipe it
LitWeekend
32Articles
I could hear the song blasting from a radio somewhere in the neighbourhood that morning. “That old rascal!” I muttered. “What does he think of himself? Old and
The familiar tracks frequented by toiling farmers Are lost to the spreading lines of blackness That stretches its colonising claws from cities, Crawling maliciously towards the emerald hillocks. ~ It
Afternoon coffee_ watching the Winter raindrops mate on our glass window. white sheets and furs between the warmth of our skin. feets smuggling to Yiruma’s rhythm. The crackles of fire
To the mother who is struggling to find rest amidst the chaos,May you find a home very soon.To the mother boiling with rage and shouting, “Kill them”,May you process rage
My train only likes to travel on the dark track of idleness. The passengers were never sure of their destination. They drink and merry to the wine of good times
I caught my breath when I finally sat in my seat in the flight. The journey to the airport to catch the flight had been quite bizarre and at this
As the earth swallows each bones freeing its enchanted soul to a still world; It may seem to you that solitude is your only convoy to keep you from life
Ukhrul
Subscribe to UKHRUL TIMES YOUTUBE CHANNEL
Most Viewed
