Love

Love

[Entries now Closed]

Willy Wingfoot (91)

I see a couple walk hand-in-hand.
A little later;
I see the lady stab the man's heart.

I see a lover waiting beneath the window.
I walk by;
I see a drooling wolf waiting for its prey.

I see shrunken bloodless men fight.
I blink;
My TV says, its the parliament.

I see a zombie feeding on a baby.
Closer look;
It’s Mr. Bush at breakfast.

I see a boy help a women cross.
Well, I notice;
Her golden ring is now lost.

I see a man pay a poor fellow.
He proved his worth;
Now his wife's murder does look like an accident.

I titled my book-"Love-An human emotion"
On second thoughts;
I published them-"Love-Once an human emotion"

==============================================================

Me (141)

I'm in Love.

I'm in love. I'm sixteen. She was my everything.

My age. Pretty. Smart. Cute. My world started.

Stopped. Did a roll over. And tumbled around her.

We moved. Split. We moved on out of love.

I'm in love. I'm nineteen. She was almost everything.

Looked like the first one. Cute. Her world started.

Stopped. Did a roll over. And tumbled around me.

She crowded. I ran. She married her new love.

I'm in love. I'm twenty. We were everything.

Smart. Loving. Caring. Our world's started.

Stopped. Did a roll over. And tumbled around us.

We fight. We scream. We're running out of love.

I'm in love. I'm twenty three. She's amazing.

Caring. Loving. Angel. I wish the world started.

Stopped. Did a roll over. And tumbled just for us.

Together awesome. But we can't. Cheers to the love that could've been.

===================================================================

Yuvraj (107)

Infinite Love

I tripped over my heart; just fell. Like that. From over the bed. A warm squarely feeling was rapidly rising underneath my chest, right next to my heart. Stroking my senses with rabid sensations. I swam out of the room to find empty air, rich with your perfume and screaming silence, whispering your words. It delivered me to a strange land of…of something…something I can not define.

The breakfast lay on the table. The newspaper on the sofa. Everything was as it would have been. But nothing was as it should have been.

This morning I woke up to an empty house, numb senses and infinite love.

Shweta Srivastav (57)

Among the pretensions of this world,

In the clash of trifling vanities,

One and all pass by me distrait,

And as always I trail them as I wait,

For just one of them to recognise me

Not as an indulgence of the self

But in my true essence!!

And thus, I wait

Lost

Waiting to be found!

===============================================================

Kaveesh Sinha (120)

The pigeons upon that time seeming to undergo much suffering and insecurity, I determined upon giving them liberty. Most of them had been killed by the cat a night before. But the beautiful grey-mottled pigeon looked extremely uneasy and anxiously around, fluttering wings and making a loud cooing noise. All of them flew away, without giving me a last look. Freedom they preferred to captivated care. I wondered how insensitive they were.

But the grey-mottled appeared in the angana one day. He never actually did go. No more care from me and there he died. That was Love's foremost realization. I asked him dead on my palms, "I didn't worry for thee, and thou fool, fell in love with me?!"

=============================================================================

Coffeeismypoison (119)

CAN YOU LOVE ME, LIKE MY DOG DOES?

...if I,

shut you in the balcony
[mid winter]
the guests!
[spooked cats]

didn't make you dinner
[i'm not hungry]
your water bowl's dry
[oops didn't notice]

tied you to a short leash
[punishment's necessary]
you peed in the house
[so I forgot to walk you]
where's your sense?

didn't play with you
[i'm busy can't you see?]
Arghh!! don't DO that
[fur shows on black!]

No,

I wont throw you your stick!

…how callous am i…
how uncaring…

so why...

do you still run to me laughing,
tail wagging nonstop…
You love
a human who knows not,
real love.

Oh! you make me feel small,
sweet dog of mine…
we humans love those,
whos heads nod with ours.

===============================================================

Dok Saab (120)

Do you still love me?

Sure I do. Why do you ask?
After twenty years of our marriage!

Why don't I feel it now, Rajat?
Tell me, when was the last time you kissed me?
You brought roses for me. That was a long time back.
Did you notice I was wearing a new saree yesterday?
You don't even notice me. And you say you still love me.

Agreed, I gave more time to my job.
That doesn't mean my love for you waned.
I wanted to reach higher, earn more,
And give you more, Seema.

I will die yearning for your love.
What will you do then?
With all that money, will you
build a Taz in my memory?

Agnisen (120)

Case: Laurie overheard her husband Andy, speaking to his close friend Maggie, "Its you my Love". (This line, in reality was Andy's suggestion to Maggie, of what she could right on her anniversary card, for her hubby.) Laurie took it otherwise and blamed God for this.

"Love….You are convicted with juvenile behavior. In Laurie vs. God, you had a night's fling with Ms Jealousy. This lead to the birth of Master Suspicion, who real caused a lot of damage."
"But what was Mr. Character, the guy in charge, doing? He should have managed this situation."
“Suspicion flourishes when Character’s weak. And per Rule 349999908 of God’s Act, it’s your duty to strengthen Character. Please resolve this case at the earliest.”

Richa Gupta (116)

Like a tidal wave they surged forward, there was no stopping them. Some came prepared, the others grabbed whatever they could find. As one they moved, without logic, without rationale. They wanted blood and they would not stop to ask or care why? Their voice rose in a deafening crescendo. They torched houses and broke the glasses of vehicles but that was not enough to quench their lust. And then they saw him, a cowering whimpering man trying to hide behind the wall of the burning house. He was theirs, the mad hunters had found a prey. They lunged and then moved on. Left behind was a writhing burning body…all for the LOVE of "their" God.

==============================================================

Santonu (211)

.....A camel was found on the NH 6 in jharkhand, it was severly injured as was hit by a car. It was surprising for everyone that how a camel came there. Later it was discovered that, marchents who were bringing it, deserted it on the way for unknown reason. The villagers got together and started throwing stones at the poor animal, fortunately he was rescued by some press photographer and good news is that he got good medical attention and recovering fast...May be his love brought him back to the world...

It was burning feeling; stream of blood was soaking the long legs. They say camels don't require water, but he felt thirsty now. Last 4 days there was very little rest, the monster which was carrying them scared him a lot. He remembered the race when Llakshmi challenged him to run faster than her, both of them were racing through the sand towards the horizons where they wanted to stop, when those devils caught him. He was happy as they spared Llakshmi, she was thin; Closing the eyes he could see her tearful eyes. The car hit him on the road when those people deserted him, he realized he is gonna die, but still he was happy, Lakshmi is alive.

===============================================================

Hummingnerd (58)

The guy - "I love you"
**kneels down**
and oops
**farts**

the girl smiles - "I love you too"
tries hard...
and
**farts** back

that's LOVE, ain't it?

:p

love is not unselfish
love is not blind
love is not pure
love is not in words...

Love is Love

Hence, forget the adjectives,
and
Let there be Love!

=============================================================================

Mickey the Monkey (120)

I think I am in Love, Sweta.

Why Monkey, how do you know its love?

Sweta, since the day I have seen her, I am feeling strange.
My heart beats faster these days.
When she comes to the window, my breathing becomes difficult.
I can't sleep the whole night. She is always there in my eyes.
I keep sitting on the mango tree in front of her house,
waiting for her to appear in the balcony.
Even the juiciest berries seem tasteless to me when she is not there.
Am I in love with Jane, Sweta?

Monkey, this is not love.
You are most probably having anaemia.
Come to my clinic tomorrow, we'll take some tests.
You'll be well soon.

===============================================================

Nandini Sen (186)

Lifelong Jojo’s question was “Whats love?”

At six , Dadima answered “It makes the world go around” Jojo felt love meant warm comfort of Dadima’s lap.

At ten, Ma answered “Its togetherness”. Jojo felt care was love.

At twelve, sharing secrets, tiffins, notes with best friend, Jojo knew love was sharing.

At sixteen, seeing his sweetheart, Jojo felt love was his blushing face & flipflop of heart.

At twenty, his sweetheart left & Jojo felt love was only pain.

At twentyfive, a colleague remarked “Jojo’s in love with his job”. He thought obsession was love.

At thirty, after passionately embracing his bride, he asked “Is this love”. She giggled: “Mr.Handsome, lemme show whats love ”. Jojo was glad that love was blind, since the mirror told him he wasn’t near “handsome”.

At forty, distributing Christmas gifts in the orphanage, Jojo heard the presiding nun say “Love is compassion towards fellow humans”.

At fortyfive, Jojo’s child declared “Daddy you’re best”. He felt this awe & reverence was love.

At sixty, Jojo knew he’d felt, lived, given and received love. But still didn’t know what it really was.

=============================================================================

GSV (86)

Imagine love

Without mine and thine

Beyond, heart and mind

As a substance of dancing souls

Imagine love

Past, reason and charm

Ahead of, in's and out's,rise and falls

As a music vibrant to eye

Imagine love

Far away from wishes and desires

Moreover, forever and never

As a light apparent to ears

Imagine love

Inspite of, gloom and glee

Besides, expectation and dependancy

As an unmerited favor to be free

Imagine to spell love

Without 'U' and 'I'

Now without imagining

Experience

Love, only love...

====================================================================

Konfessioner Singh (152)

This sun shines love

There’s sun shining down on her face
her eye twitches
the traces of a smile dance on dry lips
she knows I’m here
our love is 21 years old.

S-u-n-s-h-i-n-e! she says
not without difficulty
there’s pain
a lot of pain
but I laugh and sink
into her arms open wide…

I feel the shiver of blue veined fingers
with their single ring
on the back of my neck
and a kiss on my forehead.

The same biscuity sweater smell
labored breathing
the pain’s getting harder and I can’t swallow
and so the tears flow…

Sunshine lies buried
in her Origin’s embrace
her childhood seems to be slipping away.

And she feels her child’s pain
S-i-rr vih-tcch daa-rd hai-gaa?
Nahi ma, hun thik ho gaya!

She smiles and pinches my red nosetip
Her liquid eyes singing our song

And so I mutter a million times
Oh please don’t take
My Sunshine away…

Candle

Candle

• a long, usually slender piece of tallow or wax with an embedded wick that is burned to give light.
• something resembling a candle in appearance or use.
• to examine (eggs) for freshness, fertility, etc., by holding them up to a bright light.

[Entries Closed]

Mickey the Monkey (120)

Last Christmas, we decided to visit Jane's mother.

Whole day, we jumped across trees reaching my mother-in-law's home by evening.

The butler ushered us into that huge mansion.

Jane and kids went up to meet her mother.

I waited in the lavishly decorated hall.

There were expensive paintings, and sculptures all around.

Then I saw, on a side table, a basket full of fruits.

Apples, oranges, grapes and bananas, all so fresh.

I couldn't resist, hungry that I was, picked up one ripe yellow banana.

The moment I was to bite the fleshy fruit, my mother-in-law exclaimed,

"What are you doing monkey, that's not banana, that's a candle".

"Decorative candles, I know" I smiled foolishly "I was just smelling them".

Nandini Sen (111)

Holding her candle high, little Payal walked silently with a hundred others. She didn’t know anything about silent candlelight processions against injustice. She only knew that her Jessica aunt was murdered and justice had not been done. The lit candle was her weapon. She hoped its blazing flame would spread light in the dark corners of the authority’s minds.

Payal remembered her mother had said that a candle depicts true love. The matchstick burns itself to light the candle, and the candle melts away in its memory, while holding up a blazing light. Payal hoped that her melting candle and its blazing light showed her love & concern for Jessica aunty.

Dok Saab (119)

I was fixing small white candles all over the walls, railings and windows since afternoon. My five-year-old brother Chhotu was very excited and running to bring the packets of new candles.
"Manda, when will you light them"
"After Mummy does the pooja, Chhotu, when it's dark."
"But Manda, how many matchboxes will you need to light all those thousand candles we have fixed"
"Chhotu, you need just one small spark to ignite the whole world"
He couldn't understand this.
After the pooja, I went to the terrace with Chhotu. I lighted a big candle with a single match, and lit all the small candles one by one.
Chhotu was looking in disbelief at our home, the brightest in town.

Truth Dude (9)

light my fire
the candle's desires
melting to glory

GSV(112)

Is it her luminance which eliminates the darkness of whole world fascinates me ?

Is it her color or shape which attracts the buyers with I am bewitched ?

Is it her tears which she sheds and no one hears allures me ?

Is it her incense which fills ambience spreads the fragrance of love within me ?

Is it her sizzling lips which sparkle vivid colors for I have been made to kiss and die ?

I don't remember how many times I have been born to meet same fate.

I have no regret for my short life, just wished to know...

why I die everytime for a piece of Candle...?

Kavish Sinha (120)

CANDLE

I am on fire, I am burning bright

I am haloed by the sweet decay of light

I am breathing memory, I am laying stone

I am poor's light, and I am on my own

I am blinking in the twilight even when I needn't be

I am yellow, I am blue and together we shall be

I am spent five times in sorrow, in joy even more

I am bruised and lie broken on Mother Mary's shore

I am the light between two lovers aloof

I am lasting fading glow, I am the final proof

I am wasted with the ticking clock with many unsaid words...

I am the candle flickering in your night, just waiting to be heard.

Sarang Mahajan(116)

A candle burns in the broken hut on hill;

flickers as the wind blows

Eerie silhouettes dance at the window,

As a plant in a round pot bows

‘The devil wakes again! See, his fingers,’

They whisper in the town down the hill

The shadow of the plant, squirms and wriggles,

filling their hearts with chill.

While the candle burns and the people shiver,

A boy secretly descends from the hut

With a crafty smile, he pockets a matchbox

While people in their houses are shut

‘Candle fights darkness, tells the whole world,’

He says breaking into a stable

‘It also helps devil release the cattle from the butcher,’

He says as goats escape with babble

Dr. Sweta Singh aka Coffeeismypoison(142)

should i light,this candle tonight?
Candle light,
burning bright...
should I light,
its wick tonight...
will you come,
share with me...
some food,some wine,
some love some time?

Stick of wax,
though it maybe...
like us,its has,
a destiny...

Candle light,
shines just right.
Must i decide,
its fate tonight?
should it commence,
its long descent...?
what shall it see?
A glorious date...
or just another woman,
and her fruitless wait?

Candle light,
prays it might,
witness scenes of sweet passion...
the making of perfection...
in the space of this night.
Not words of accusation
anger so destructible...
blotting all hope
of peace and salvation!

Candle light
burning bright
cast your might,
upon us tonight.
and as you melt,
so fearlessly...
I'll tell them all,to learn from thee.
A tale of how sometimes...
one must die to see,
fulfillment of
one's destiny.

Genuine Fake(120)

I stepped out on the platform to see him waiting for me. Those weary eyes, shone with the light of a thousand candles. He kept walking, toward the countryscape, silent and in his own, with me in tow. Sixteen years earlier, I had left him, in pursuit of my dreams. He bid me adieu with his endearing smile, which haunted my conscience every night since then. The desire to hug him and tell him was overwhelming today. Fulfillment of the desire, however, was overlooked by the falsehood of self-esteem. Quiet discussions on work and life otherwise, followed that night over dinner. Sleep followed.

He however slept on forever.

“The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself”.

I miss you. Pa.

Hummingnerd (120)

The candle flares, then gutters, swallows flame...

and I'm lost in inevitable metaphors, writing for fame;

I am attempting to use my words

to illustrate the flame and its significance,

the shadows under the candle light…

If that to you makes any sense.

We walk among ghosts,

swamped in lies of secret seas,

encircled by fears and hypocrisies;

For days, months, how many years…

this darkness' clung to us…soul deep.

Still they say -

It's better to light one small candle

than to curse the darkness for the broken fleet.

The wick is too short now,

Our candle is flickering somehow;

Before, the humbled husk separates from the seed,

I think its time…

A new candle is all we need.

Anonymous(29)

C lock ticks
A month or more, before horizons grey
N o safe havens found
D arkness flickering..
L ight holds sway
E xistence fragile echoes with life's play.

Konfessioner Singh (114)

Butter-lamp bardo
when does it end?

I have slipped into black, green, blue rivers
With waves of red.
Cradled islands; balanced…
balanced, on that twang
of a faraway invisible veena…

And the subtle shiver of a swan song
has crawled,
crawled with me
while
I have whistled along paths up mountains
only to be defeated
by winds of a different kind.

Unfriendly is this growth--
panch koshas expand
only to expend.

My wings aren’t wax
no, not wax.
The wicker of my body
does not yet burn.

But
She Is.
So I ask-
Dhaaran-e-dhaara kad?

Butter lamp bardo
When does it start?
Is my candle yet unlit?

Or is my childhood spent
...and me?

Story

STORY

(Pic courtesy: Kaveesh)

1. a narrative, either true or fictitious, in prose or verse, designed to interest, amuse, or instruct the hearer or reader; tale.
2. a fictitious tale, shorter and less elaborate than a novel.
3. such narratives or tales as a branch of literature: song and story.
4. the plot or succession of incidents of a novel, poem, drama, etc.: The characterizations were good, but the story was weak.
5. a narration of an incident or a series of events or an example of these that is or may be narrated, as an anecdote, joke, etc.
6. a narration of the events in the life of a person or the existence of a thing, or such events as a subject for narration: the story of medicine; the story of his life.

[ENTRIES CLOSED, VOTING OPEN]

Dok Saab (118)
"DokSaab, Rohan grinds his teeth while sleeping."
Four-year-old Rohan was anxiously fidgeting with the pen.
"He even wakes up in the night, frightened and shouting."
"Rajat, your child appears over stressed. He needs relaxation before going to sleep."
"Oh that he gets plenty, he watches cartoon channel the whole evening."
"Television aggravates the problem. I was taking about reading him a bedtime story."
"We both are working, DokSaab, too tired to tell him any story."
"Then ask your mother to tell some fairytales. She used to, when you were a child. DadiMa's stories have therapeutic effect."
"She doesn't live with us now, DokSaab. Our apartment is too small, so we have kept her in an old age home."
.
.
Mickey (106)
Where were you?"
I asked Jane.
She was climbing down
From the thickest branch of our tree.
"Err, I was up there
reading a novel".
She looked tired, sleepy,
And strangely satisfied.
"But I saw Tarzan swinging away
From the tree few minutes back".
Her Shirt was torn, skirt crushed.
"Oh, He was going towards the town,
Just stopped to say hi to me".
Her hair was disheveled,
Face blushing,
Bite marks on the lips.

She was telling one story,
But every tear of her shirt,
Every wrinkle of her skirt,
Every strand of her hair,
Every scratch on her arms,
Was telling,
A different story.

.

.

Nandini (117)
God: “Let me narrate your story to you” I stood there listening to my life story. There it flashed before me. I was the hero and not only had the onus of writing my own story but also the privilege of living it. Like a star I was treated. - serenaded by blessings when I acted good, held by Him when I turned weak .My actions coloured the story in many hues. God smiled and said “My child, based on your old story, here is your new plot. You are Nandini – go forth and write it. Me: “What if I suffer writer’s block” God: “Write it with the ink of faith and your story will move on”

Richa (120)
Machal gaya Munna us raat
Nahi suni fir usne kisi ki baat
Karne laga voh manmani
Aaj to sunke rahoonga mein koi kahani

Maa tum busy ho office mein har din
Mein karta weekend ka intezaar din gin gin
Aaj Saturday tumhe party mein hai jaana
Kabhi to sunao maa kahani, lori ya koi gana

Bhar aaya maa ka man sun Munne ki baat
Beta hum rahenge tumhare saath hi aaj raat
Aaj mein tumhe sunaoongi wohi kahani
Jo bachpan mein sunati thi mujhe meri nani

God mein lita ke maa papa ne kahani sunai
Munna ko itna khush dekh dono ki aankh bhar aayi
Lets make Saturday family time papa said
they hugged each other with arms wide spread

.

Genuine Fake (119)
Mrinal Shrivastav. CEO, Autosoft Systems; the visiting card read. As he glanced through the card, Mrinal looked at the plaque congratulating him on completion of 15 years of service. Vivid reminiscences of his first visiting card came back to him. Junior Engineer, Autosoft Systems. A small town man, a second class civil engineer, and a low self esteem were all that he needed to make it big. Life since then was all about oil, grease, engines, low performance reminders, strong disagreements and self-motivation. He had now become a man of envy.
Every man has a story, his father once said.
He smiled and looking up, winking at his father, he moved onto the conference room to celebrate his experience

.

.
GSV (116)
“Fairy tales and fables have long been obsolete.Biographies are for History channel, Public prefers mimicry nowdays in the name of humour,Socially relevant issues are commercially flops and Beware to touch those mythological concepts, fundamentalist don't like anybody playing with their heroes. Love story musicals now demands foriegn locale and I have limited budget.Even tragedies are being disliked,people want 'happy endings' after spending thier money!".

"Now tell me, Can you draw a Story for my canvas?" asked Ghosh,prominent director.
"aaa..I would try..!" hesitantly Aakash replied.

"Ok now listen a good news, Natasha have agreed to do an 'Item Number', I would manage to recover my costs even if your Story fails!" chuckled Ghosh.
.

.

Kaveesh (120)

STORY

"Why in the world should I allow you amid a class Mr.Sinha?" asked Ms.Dua with a gorgeously frowned face.

"How in the world do I explain? I too am a teacher like you. I was answering the question that first leaped out of the child's mouth. I was still teaching when I realized my slip-up. But then, I thought it's all for a noble cause." I quipped.

"Aaahh…You've always got some stories to make Mr.Sinha. Really fine that one was.", simpered Ms.Dua while I still tipped on the forceful door.
"Well…You can come in!"

I sneered and by her table muttered incorrigibly, "Thou shalt Not is soon forgotten... but Once upon a time lasts forever. I'd continue to weave".

.

Sarang (56)

Everyone is a writer
Every life is a story
Of love, longing and losses
And sometimes of glory

Everyone is hero,
Who writes their own tale
Their own plot decides,
They write to loose or fail

Every life is a story
Written by the pen of deeds
Every scene is felt
Reaped as the sown seeds

.

Santonu (117)

Let me tell you a story
Its not about a prince and princess
God and goddesses
Its also not about love and war,

I will tell you a story
of an insignificant life, a man or a woman
Story that never started or will never end
But a story that will ever remain..

Damp wall and falling roof built the story
Yelling and cries filled it in,
Starving kids and hungry eyes passed by the tale
through the blind alley
a story that flew every day

I will tell you a story
Which started without a hope and may end without it
It's a story of a day when she started dreaming,
A very special day….her birthday!
.

Willy Wingfoot (110)

I skipped the wall,
Quit the job.
Burnt the proof,
Of a "ME" who was!

Sick of the tyranny
Of routine and uniformity
Caught in the play
Of plugged, machined, daily living.

I fled,
From the sheep;evergrazing on wafers green.
From the shepard;just another sheep, fat and mean.

I ran, I ran, I ran...
To find a way to fly.
To shake aside the shadow of Black & White.

Walked among proud beasts,besides the sheep for once.
And swam against the tide.

I dreamt under my starry cousins.
And fought to live my dreams.

And so goes the story,
a myth, now a legend,
of a mole among YOU sheep!

----------------------------------------------------

Coffee

Coffee

• a beverage consisting of a decoction or infusion of the roasted ground or crushed seeds (coffee beans) of the two-seeded fruit (coffee berry) of certain coffee trees.
• a cup of coffee
• a social gathering at which coffee and other refreshments are served

[ENTRIES CLOSED!]

Nandini Sen (120)

With a steaming cup of coffee, I sat thinking about my Klash entry. Coffee got over, but no inspiration struck. Drat, instant variety doesn’t help, lets try filter coffee.

While brewing the dark concoction an inviting aroma filled my nostrils. Laced with milk and sugar, the nectar was just right. Why don’t they ever make Coffee scented deos?

Twenty minutes later, I had an empty mug, and a blank mind.

Probably, I’ll just write what I overheard at the market yesterday.

Chotu, the cobbler, returned Sethji’s dropped wallet. Sethiji held out a 10rupee note.

Chotu: Sethji mujhe kafi de do

Sethji: Kya Rs10 kafi nahin

Chotu pointed at the coffee mug etched on the fancy restaurant’s door and said “Kafi”

Genuine Fake (110)

I graze greener pastures,

I wake beyond the sleeping masses,

I live in rich taste,

Yet not a minute I waste,

Because of the caffeine in the blood,

I write, I think and I prod,

For thou enliven me,

Thy cream and thy sugar,

They oh so comfort me.

Now I walk in the shadowed valley of your addiction,

Sometime in jubilation, sometime in affliction,

But I shall continue to anoint another day,

With coffee gracing my mug whenever it may,

And I shall savor the frappes,

And the delicious carafes,

And I would dwell in the House of Mochas,

Relieving from all, the oka, the rum or the vodka..

====================================================================

Santonu (119)

I was lying on the table when the darkness of the big hall was settling down. I was reminiscing the day. Only one table inside the coffee house was occupied in the morning, old folks chatted about each other's family. They spilled me off from their cups and that's how I'm here, they were relaxed, but the young writers weren't happy at all, although they consumed cups of coffee sitting for there for hours. Smoke and noise filled in Coffee House as the students poured in the afternoon; the evening came with bright couples. People say tough intellectuals meet here for the coffee, but I saw humane life over coffee before the wet cloth wiped me off.

====================================================================

Richa Gupta (120)

"Just black, no sugar" Zohra turned around. She hadn't heard this voice in 10 years. Her mind went back to when she had been 18 and had met the 35 yr old Aslam, a widely acclaimed writer...long hair, black framed glasses, ragged jeans, the personification of all stereotypes. Even his black coffee had been so "adult" so "serious". She had been enthralled but soon disillusion had set in. He spent hours locked inside his own mind, thinking… writing…creating and she was shut out. Many a mornings the empty coffee cups were the only indicators that Aslam had been home. Even his black coffee irritated her...it was so "pretentious!!" She had grown out of him. Looking at him now she wished…

===================================================================

Dok Saab (120)

(all characters and events in this klash are imaginary. Any resemblance with people is only coincidental)

"CCD 16hrs……AS" the SMS read.
It was well past five now. The café was full.
The waiter came for the fourth time.
"Your order, sir."
"I am waiting for someone" I told him once again.
"It's already been more than an hour, would you mind waiting outside"
"Ok give me one coffee, please" I offered, though I hated coffee.
I wouldn't be here had she not called me here.
"Hot or cold"
"Hot" who needed cold in December?
"Cappuccino or Mocha"
"Cappuccino" I didn't knew the difference anyway.
No sign of her and it was five forty-five.
I tried to take a sip from that dark, bitter, burning concoction.
The bitter taste of that coffee still lingers in my mouth.

===================================================================

Sarang Mahajan (120)

In Gokulgram, there lived a mean little girl called Coffee. She loved spying over Lord Krishna and obstructing him in playing the naughty pranks he was famous for. But when it came to meeting Radha, she’d go to any extent to stop him. One dawn, when Krishna was cleverly escaping mother Yashoda’s custody to meet Radha at the bank of Yamuna, Coffee, who was hiding nearby purposely, made a big noise to wakeup Yashoda. Recaptured and angry, Lord Krishna cursed her, ‘you are jealous of us loving souls, so hereon, you should be the first reason for two tender hearts to meet and know each other. And while their romance blossoms, you should fume in a cup listening to them.’

===================================================================

Mandappa KC (116)

My sweet Dusky lady

Oh my sweet dusky lady.

My sweet dusky lady.

Heat me up, when I'm cold

Make me young when I'm old.

Wake me up, when I'm out.

Perk me up, when I'm down.

My sweet dusky lady.

Oh my sweet dusky lady

The way you slide in and fire my veins

Rising passion out on the plains

Steam rising in to the mist

Red hot our every morning tryst.

My sweet dusky lady.

Oh my sweet dusky lady

Tender kisses on raw tongue taste

We meet even if I've got no time to waste

I cant live without you my sweet

Without you, I'd be dead beat.

My sweet dusky lady.

Oh my sweet dusky lady

=====================================================================

GSV (114)

'Tea or Coffee'?

'Tea! Dont bring that beans-stuff for me, beverage for the elite'!

'What happened'?

'Nothing'!

'Tell me'!

'Today Commissioner sahab visited our office and I was supposed to make arrangements.For the Breakfast Meeting, I placed order for three different varieties of biscuits,garnished veg butter toast and extra special cardamom Tea, and you guess what happenend next'?

'What'?

"After breakfast, the principal secretary asked me 'Are you new to civil services? Don't you know tea is an informal drink, have you ever seen tea being served at Marriage, Functions, and kitty parties! Its always Coffee!' "

"Hahaha...You tell me one thing dear,before our marriage, why did you always offered me Coffee during Tea-breaks?"

=====================================================================

Hummingnerd (99)

2 O'clock.
too cold to sleep,
a rotten taste in my mouth,
my eyes are deep...


Once..

I had a big crush
on this girl who used to blush;
asked her out for a cup of tea
said she liked coffee

so we went on in her car
a scent of coffee validated the hour.
I said, "I love thee"
"But, I love louie", said she.
...
...


What happened next is easy to see
a cup of troubles
it turned out to be
I gave up on my tea
and now in bed, I'm having my
bitter coffee.

====================================================================

Kavish Sinha (120)

Brown bubbles skate across
the smooth, scalding surface,
and cluster at the brim
of the hot mug of dark brew.

They crowd each other,
and murmur steamy coffee yarns
They nudge one another,
Happy to see her around

Each bubble is anxious
to be the first one to burst,
and flick its rich, sharp scent;
into the crisp and clean of her's.

There they pass through the lips
Each relieved to be touching in
Its beans have been crushed
In its trodding serving bliss.

I am warmed on the thought of coffee
I call myself fanatic

I can learn a good deal from it
That satiates me with its death
May I serve the maiden?
Who is now my addict!

=====================================================================

Konfessioner Singh(120)

You can’t match men with coffees. They aren’t deep enough for that sort of thing…and girlfriends ought to share everything over chocolate sundaes and maggi. It’s really all about how you grow with coffee.

I remember the first three grains in a big red mug and an arghhh face, the okay-let’s stay awake with coffee trial and of course! The ‘I’m a writer so I like mine black’ phase. I tried to impress him with the latter…he laughed. Okay, maybe I took it too personally and the result was my version—one big pretty looking mug with a history, freshly ground Turkish black with a spoonful of condensed milk. I remember him when it’s bitter and home when it’s sweet.