Sunday Talks

Sunday Wordsmiths By Aparna Mandal

Who lives to tell a story Many or not so many Stories converge The gathering of events The past, the present Eyes tell s...

Un-Expressed Feelings ... Before her , motionless I stare and stood As if none but a lump of wood . Unable to express my...

A glimpse of death How does it feel to die a little For a few little seconds? At least once in your life You too must ha...

Existence In a destiny I try to find me Beside, Sadness success & stimulator I feel hungry I achive the season Me, e...

Sunday Palette 1 Like a raindrop on a green leaf A silent word is lost in the traffic noise As soon as the word Like a s...

As I ponder along Don't let your home be made in dreams Let it conquer on reality Be simple as wall and pillars, yet fir...

Nature’s Call As vast as a forest, the sky lies above, With thin strips of cotton that look softer than hay. Rainwater d...

Why dear, now Delhi, my city is sleeping now. And you are calling me now. Why? My dear sky! At every midnight You call m...

Flute and fuss on a Sunday morning Different time zones, different ideas, entities and identity formation when the flute...

Of Ruinous Poesy and Palpable Morning Landscapes It has been a long time that I wrote to you, the deeper crevices of the...