Monday, September 28, 2020

Pallavi Suri

I teacher by passion, an amateur writer by accident. I write on whim to empty myself, and fill the pages. Poetry is love and they say it only comes when it overflows. It does for me sometimes and I write. A beginner with stories.
5 WRITINGS

Miles to go before I sleep

    At 35, you can’t help but suckle your own set of prejudices one day and water them the next. The case of learning, unlearning...

The Drunkard

Once again he was gone, unaware of my existence; soon a heart skipped a beat, a pair of eyes winked and somewhere twosome kidneys...

The letter not delivered

I could almost peep through her huge almond eyes that served oceans and volcanoes from time to time as she feverishly scratched me. Peeping...

The Christmas Dinner

The white snow on the gingerbread houses, little tufts of delicious smoke from the cigar like chimneys, tinkle of bells, decorated fir trees dancing...

Rose Buds

He came closer. Our breaths almost intermingling. I was desperate for the next step. He hugged me in an embrace.All of a sudden, a...