Fictional Arts - Page 5

Fictional Arts·Literature

My Little Singing Bird

My little singing bird Wherever I go I carry it within me Or rather it sits fluttering in my being As I sit down at my desk to dream away It takes me above the valleys of Anatolia Orange groves Strawberry

by Shameela Yoosuf Ali

Fictional Arts·Literature

Pygmalion

When they found me my eyes were tilted upwards towards the window towards the light. A policeman said it seemed as if I was looking for help — Well of course I was I had been looking for many, many years.

by Alexandra Heatwole

Fictional Arts·Literature

I wish

I wish I believed my mother when she said that there will be better days. That the sky isn’t the limit and I really can do anything if I set my mind to it. I wish I believed her when she

by Grace Wickremasinghe

Fictional Arts·Literature

All Of Me

All of me is nothing but a spark of fire Blowing all the lights in the darkness All of me is nothing but a ray of hope Running through the veins of an unknown soul All of me is nothing but

by Sheikh Aatif Tariq

Fictional Arts·Literature

Purple – Not Only the Colour

The colour reflects the psychology It reads the mind and spells the behaviour Your colour is purple; mine is blue Once, for your festival, you bought light blue It is, yes, colour influence. No doubt. With this influence-driven context, I fly

by Munas Kalden

Fictional Arts·Literature

Grief Is the Throne We All Sit On

The sound of snow in trees makes silence, makes the poem in my pocket sing through the holes, the loose change of angels, all those fallen lights into the world we came in on sound, the stranger cadence. of wave, and

by Anne Walsh

Fictional Arts·Literature

Habeus Corpus

I remember the last time my Mama held my hand tight in hers, as though she could never let it go – But she did, in the end, although that very morning in Uncle Sunil’s little house, she’d fed Angela and

by Sakuntala Sachinthanandan

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Salty Kiss

To not sing about the afternoon Is impossible. The one wandering the desert, his voice wringing with grief, is not the singer— in his path, marble tears of sunlight and patti flowers; The nectar’d voice from the mosque that calls one

by Cheran Rudhramoorthy

Fictional Arts·Literature

All The Doors

Of all the doors, You are the one who beckoned me. I stood there, staring at you Contemplating the silent view. I could hear the voices I could smell the fragrance I could feel the living Was it that I incarnated

by Gaana Rupini

Fictional Arts·Literature

Death Alone Is Immortal

A middle-aged man was hurrying along the road in that morning to reach his place of business as early as possible. “Oh, get lost! You bad omen.” He came to a halt seeing a few coffins which were displayed in front

by Shaji John

Fictional Arts·Literature

Paired

I take off my gloves to pull my suitcase up the high steps onto the Tibet-bound train, then wheel my case down the aisle, hoist it into the overhead rack, help my family find seats, and there— out the window, as

by David Allen Sullivan

Fictional Arts·Literature

Revising The Unfruitful

Bloodstain on a white sheet confirmed my chastity the morning I woke up from the previous night’s pleasure. A year since then, and I wasn’t able to give a positive answer to my mother-in-law, who started to check up on me

by Nuha Faiz

Fictional Arts·Literature

Whispering Moon

Skies of shimmering gold And blue There is a garden among the Trees The dew on leaves of ivy fluttering Silently shading under the sunbeam A bird on a bough Playing the musical note on a flute: “I go where love

by Phoebe Gazi

Fictional Arts·Literature

Door to Door

There is nothing called a fine morning in a door to door salesperson life. Especially when it comes to saleswomen. She never enjoyed this job. If someone gives her the option to quit this job and start her career all over again,

by Anojan

Fictional Arts·Literature

Oh Blessed one

O Blessed One, you appeared to me in my dreams By Dr Ujjwal Bikram Khadka. Buddha, O Blessed one you appeared to me in my dreams the other day Thank you, what can I say. Dream, oh yes, and what a dream

by Ujjwal Bikram Khadka

Fictional Arts·Literature

If Wallets Were Skirts

Sir, where exactly were you when the alleged offence took place? Ah, and would you agree – as outlined in earlier expert testimony – that this is a dark street? Thank you – and were you alone at the time? And –

by Anne Casey

Fictional Arts·Literature

Incomparable

A girl I know fell in love with the first boy she kissed. She told me all about it, in a darkened bar a few days ago. She was innocent, and ignited; ravenous and heartbroken. She said she had asked him

by Devika Brendon

Fictional Arts

What Is Lost And What Remains

I spent several weeks in the North of Sri Lanka last year.  I travelled through five districts in search of stories that would encompass a film and body of photography to support research carried out by the International

by Natalie Soysa

Fictional Arts·Literature

Oxygen

“What do you think about the X-rays, Dr Smith?” Dr Zoya Khan asked him, over the phone. “I think we should remove that tooth, especially since she has been complaining about its pain for so long. It just needs to come

by Hina Ahmed

Fictional Arts·Literature

A Sweet Thunder And A Pouring Rain

You walked into my dream Without knocking at the door You touched me with a swift glance My body melted like ice in volcanic fire You knelt down by my river To drink its water Every sip you took Another river

by Shameela Yoosuf Ali

Fictional Arts·Literature

Explaining My Room To My Mother

I will start with the closet which – as some of you may know – is my den. And mother, it’s off limits. I think you will genuinely regret the corpses of memories I hide in there. This entire room is

by Kaviru Samarawickrama

Fictional Arts·Literature

Chronicles Of An Unplanned Tenure

I am not sure what struck me to leave my base in favour of an unknown destination, for unseen – and, more aptly, unforeseen – challenges: leaving a job as a doctor in Kathmandu in favour of a hospital out

by Ujjwal Bikram Khadka

Fictional Arts·Literature

Pricing The Smell

You crossed me suddenly Pervading the smell, It tells you are here You are somewhere in the closer vicinity Then, I add my philosophical underpinning of consumption It has many forms: Seeing, smelling, touching, imagine, actualising, experiencing…! It needs one or

by Munas Kalden

Fictional Arts·Literature

Buddha’s Brain

Birds are happy They are flying, some of them singing sweetly Animals are happy They are walking, some of them running Butterflies are happy They are with vibrant colours Trees are happy They are green and most of them  flowers and

by Rajan

Fictional Arts·Literature

Amma Budu Wewa

Wish blesséd nirvana upon me one day for my nine-month pains, for Turning my blood to milk as the poets and scholars have often droned… perhaps also wish enlightenment one day, my son! I am after all, no real blessing to

by Vasika Udurawane

Fictional Arts·Literature

Sita

Sita – when you followed your blue-skinned lover along tangled forest paths Did he marvel at your fearless laughter filling the darkness with hope? Did his heart lift at the sight of you, his sure-footed wife marching melodically into the wilderness

by Anita Patel

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Sanctuary

‘Don’t come to the office again, not even to meet your friends’ Lila said, in a bitter voice. Her thin lips shrunk. Nadeeka’s face darkened, and I was pleased for a moment. Both Nadeeka and I were suspended from work last

by Hasitha Adhikariarachchi

Fictional Arts·Music

Therukkoothu – Capturing A Diminishing Folk Art

  Koothu or Therukoothu is an ancient art, where performers play depicting scenes from primordial epics like Ramayana, Mahabharatha and other classical epics. Conventionally there are no dialogues, only songs, dances and music instead. Artists sing in

by Prabhu Kalidas

Fictional Arts·Literature

Second Language

When you have to leave home the word belonging loses the be and just the longing is left. When your language isn’t spoken by anyone, when you have no one to talk to in it but you your memories stop trying

by Anne Walsh

Fictional Arts·Literature

Unseen Galaxy

Amid the hurriedness and haste there lazes stillness, motionless and chaste In an unseen galaxy of a trifling territory It is but a forgotten keyhole of a lost realm As you step within spreads out a Universe trimming your dream bundle

by Shameela Yoosuf Ali

Fictional Arts·Literature

Relational Shadow

I got refuge under the shadow you left It should be of yours in the desert of relationship Composed by the song of the heart joined together You are not there How does the shadow remain? Possible, because it is for

by Munas Kalden

Fictional Arts·Literature

Trash Can

The trash can filled with all invaluable items Items, those I preserved On and on for years together Started to open the day I understood Understood What is what Who is who? Where is who? Why is what? My charismatic articles

by Salma Ainy

Fictional Arts·Literature

Whores of MadTown

Days are tricky as dogs, you don’t know what they will offer you on the next day even if you had been running on your own routine. I was really tired of handling everything on my own. I had been so

by Farhan Wahab

Fictional Arts·Literature

Bystanders of Glory

‘Great! I will meet you there in a bit!’ Mo said, via text message to Zareena. One message filled with the expression of his desire for her was enough to make Zareena squirm in delight. How weak she was to Mo’s

by Hina Ahmed

Fictional Arts·Literature

Portrait Of The Poet

Her hair Freshly harvested dreadlocks Unedited gospel of love Off limits to combs. Tresses like streams Of eternal fire- From the arsenal of her body. Poems conceived in a celestial tongue When stars align with cesarean precision. It is our own

by Chandramohan S

Fictional Arts·Literature

Blending

by that river I bend down to note down in my notebook for I hear the water flow but see not the bottom of the bed, not even knee deep I breathe the fresh air but creeps that doubt I think

by Henry Victor

Fictional Arts·Literature

Mummy’s Boy

He shouted: Middle of night – is it time to wake up? I screamed: why can’t you check by yourself? I don’t want my sleep to be disturbed I wish my mum was here to tell the time. He complained of

by Maureen Ernest

Fictional Arts·Literature

Come Again, Another Day

Come Again, Another Day When it rains like this in the City I think of you Like being inside a waterfall The thundering cascade Can the glass in the windowpane stand it? It is morning, and the sky is dark grey

by Devika Brendon

Fictional Arts·Literature

A Little Bit Of Heart

His budget-conscious ma-ma used to make him fill-up on a steamed pork or chicken bun before going to an extended family yum cha luncheon So he never really developed an honest appreciation for the more gourmet seafood dumpling. And though he

by Kathryn Yuen

Fictional Arts·Literature

I Am An Old Soul.

Breeze of autumn swooshes the leaves, The world gushes forth fast and furious. As I sit in a solemn wooden chair, Resting my neck in a wine red cushion By my window, lacy white curtains pushed aside Sun sets behind the cedars

by Shameela Yoosuf Ali

Fictional Arts

Unnoticed Pulse Of Sri Lanka

The narration includes pictures of day to day struggles of strangers that I captured in Sri Lanka. Each of these moments lives within me and revisit and influence my political and academic life. The recurrent impact of these captured moments forces me

by Kalpa Rajapaksha

Fictional Arts·Literature

In The Name Of The Almighty

Clouds swarmed in great dark clumps a malformed day transformed to murk as she was dumped – a squall settling beyond wailing walls, wind bawling Following through the icy halls head bowed, bag in hand flat soles slapping cold stone flags and

by Anne Casey

Fictional Arts·Literature

Death Before Dishonour

In this case There’s no honour in being violent No honour in unleashing feelings that refuse to stay silent There’s nothing worse than Leaving your daughter more than frightened But still Some would go beyond those limits To protect the family name

by Mizan The Poet

Fictional Arts·Literature

Little Golden Books

I used to feel it a lot when I was younger. The sense of bitumen laid smoothly over something so much wilder, and more complex. The awareness of what exists, past the boundaries of the nature strip. It is a great country,

by Devika Brendon

Fictional Arts·Literature

You Can’t Write A Poem Without Me In It

No one is speaking, but everything is. The wordless hanging hurricane lanterns on breath, firefly words electric over forever’s backyard shiver me sideways inside the blizzard of myself. I’ve kissed you with that breath, the shawl of snow. Now, wherever you go

by Anne Walsh

Fictional Arts·Literature

My Salad

is made with a poetic love, like breaking lines in my poem I chop into pieces the Roma tomatoes and the English cucumber with the yellow onions, all raw adding also some boiled dried Indian chickpeas with un-fried sunflower seed, sprinkling generously

by Henry Victor

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Baton

Verbal, verb-less, jabs of manifold colour crimson, gleaming gold and darkling from sisters of the cross of the familial kingdom arches of the eyebrows, with pits and crests on the turbulent waters of marital seas bobbing sisters, aunts, nephews, and nieces, and,

by Divya Athmanathan

Fictional Arts·Literature

Bus Trip

A Monologue About A Ghost & Groundhog Day I never got around to getting a driving license, having my own car. (Pauses, as if sorry). My parents were a little too high strung to teach me. My boyfriend at the time, who always

by Kathryn Yuen

Fictional Arts·Literature

Confluence

Waters when they evaporate, meet… at a global conference, to speak of fish dropouts, obscura of clouds, near-deaths, hydrological dynamics, monocultures, and metals: nickel, lead, chromium, at their beds. The bend is notional: water for coffee, cane, banana, paddy, mills, distilleries, fertilizer

by Rochelle Potkar

Fictional Arts·Literature

Sound Of The Soul

I hear the sound coming from the weeping soul You reflect it-the pain and broken heart With the spreading wing of mercy and love Solacing the weeping heart…..! Yes, the wing of the heart is broken The dancing leg is in the

by Munas Kalden

Cinema & Theater·Fictional Arts

Black Panther Takes Cues From African Tradition And Storytelling

Kevin Andrews says: Fable. Bedside tale. The Lion King. The opening scene of Black Panther is pregnant with these impressions. A mark of Marvel Studios’ strength is that their best movies almost always focus on superior storytelling. This is showcased

by FemAsia Team

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Unspeakable Act

A Short Story Something is finally happening in my life. And I don’t mean like baba noticing the drawings and sketches I’ve been leaving around the house for him to see. No, baba is much too busy to pay attention to something

by Khulud Khamis

Fictional Arts·Literature

#DONTPRAY

“I miss those simple times” but maybe We lived through a mere interim False hope Prayed for healing rains on our dreamy heads not ashfalls among the dead. Oh “I miss those simple times” but don’t you remember? Our foundations, our hopes

by Vasika Udurawane

Fictional Arts·Literature

A Distant Rumble

Last night it rained. I lived that storm in my senses. Felt in my bones that inevitable hush… The calm before the storm. Listened to the distant rumbling of thunder and watched distant flashes of lightning illuminate the night sky. I stepped

by Sundari De Alwis

Fictional Arts·Literature

The Journey

In the time between Blooming and withering of a flower…. In the time between One gunshot and another…. In the time between Two explosions you hear… Children set off on perilous journeys, From darkness to darkness… The sun and the moon Armed

by Santhush Kumar

Fictional Arts·Literature

Borderlands

I live in borderlands where cobwebs spin my fingers together and sun burns the mark of earth on my tongue. My home is two places and none. Born here and there, speaking the languages of both, my greatest fluency is silence.

by Anne Walsh

Fictional Arts·Painting

An Interview With Abdul Salim Kochi- A Gifted Artist From India

“Though I am living in Kochi, a city, my mind is filled with the  sceneries of my native village Ottappalam.”  This beautiful village seems to be the inspiration behind Artist Abdul Salim’s breathtakingly beautiful landscapes, paddy fields, snake charmers, dancers and

by FemAsia Team

Fictional Arts·Literature

Lost in Red

01. Sat in the spiritual place on a Friday After checking your availability You are busy at home I entered the place. You too joined me in the line of Prayers shoulder by shoulder with others I smiled at me Not sure

by Munas Kalden

Fictional Arts·Literature

Sipping The Moon

 Amid the limbs of Burning up birch trees, Blazes the crimson sun clock I return home, Doves are fluttering away from my fingers… One blend of yellow and white… An attic pigeon sequinned with beads… A bird with eyes kohled

by Shameela Yoosuf Ali

Fictional Arts·Literature

Fairytale of Darkness

Wide-opened arms of the poem embrace the solitary flame, dancing alone in this dark. while the book kept aside a girl of half nightingale and devil of another descends Through creviced shells of poetry. “What more do you know about the dark?”

by Fatheek Aboobucker

Fictional Arts·Literature

Deconstruct

Hair traitorous grey shameful need to pretend anti aging. Plucking, dilapidating; dyeing, dying. Betrayal of knees, hands, feet, neck (knees!) circled & magnified, almost expired  — quick sale! The male body needing no such revision. His landscape a shameless prairie

by Michele Seminara

Fictional Arts·Literature

#Melanin

This word that keeps poppin’ on my Instagram feed Means so little, so it seems To crafty marketers and vacuous beauties Hash-tagging like tomorrow Will never come Kindled to autoignition point, Melanin shot golden stars out of their hiding places

by Meghana Bahar

Fictional Arts

The Art of Sharing Stories And Bridging Cultures

As an editor of anthologies of fiction from South Asia and Australia, I have the privilege of reading original, creative and gripping stories. My work with South Asian, Australian and South Asian—Australian writers and academics led me to my research for

by Sharon Rundle

Fictional Arts·Literature

Unamused

Why all this vilification, boy? Had you thought that I was your toy? That my every day and every night Was dedicated solely to you by right? Designed, was I, to pledge you my troth, By vocation and avocation, both?

by Sharon Dinasha Stephen

Fictional Arts·Literature

Soul

You see, You are much too old. Your river seeks canyons to carve. Your melodies are not music. Not yet. Your language is yet to be born. You are of the Sea, the Earth, the Breeze. You are Freedom. You are

by Megan Dhakshini

Fictional Arts·Literature·Poetry·Social Justice

Peace

Let the marching swallow, let the battalions breathe, Let the olive wreath be upon their swords, Let their mind encompass a peaceful tree And say; ‘Let’s fight this war and bring harmony’ Man against man, rivers of red, Neither party

by Hasna Naushad