Fictional Arts - Page 2

MY WRITERS’ BLOCK does not exist (or so I’ve been told); its name is the very  pulse of this story, yearning to be unleashed from the confines of my churning  chest — a  writhing  tangle  of  Medusa’s  serpents  itching  to 

Grief crawled out from under the rock. It always does. Now I understand; the varicose veins, the heavy breathing, the conservation of handprints, deeds, a will and the daily ‘evening walks’; they were all prompts before the final words, before the

Slams against window The hissing breeze Making foggy shadow As it cease Tiny dew drops Fall in streaks From the reed on slope Standing in bleak It is almost midnight. I wake up with a start. For an instant, I

Self Portrait- I am the Rain I am the Rain  Rumble as a Thunder, The Zero Shade of Being Breaking into a Calm Stream. My Roaring Depths Wrapped and Trapped. Sliding over the Windowless Pane Formless, Shadowless, the

Kohl-eyes, lush-hair, skin bathed in glean and two chandelier earrings – those were the remains of her on this wide, soft morning by the looming sea. Jaganlal felt he was on a high ship and soon his building, this bay

Down the road from Monique Barnes’ apartment block was a tennis club at the base of a rainforest. From her balcony she could see the coaches on the court, hear the thwack of the tennis balls as they rallied with their

Twenty years ago, my mama told me  That there was an olive tree  Whose broad branches stretched far and wide  Wide enough to carry a man and a child  “My olive tree, my olive tree,”  said she.  Twenty years ago, twenty

Why has the ground under my feet become so shifty? Why has the comportment of the government become so dirty? When and how did we get here? Why are the mountains grumbling like a charged diarrhoea? How long shall I walk

The candles burn bright illuminate the night hold back the terrors braving the dark clouds the old moon in the arms of the new moon foretelling a storm. Thunder, lightning, whipping rain announce the coming of the storm. The high winds

I I fell in love recklessly with the man of my dreams. Polite as a knight he swept the floor beneath my feet. He dazzled everyone with his presence but paid attention only to my needs. The day he proposed My heart