Sometimes, I look for a door in the floor of my bedroom— even though there’s no such door—just because it’ll be such an awesome thing to have. Wouldn’t you want one?
I’ll become the envy of all my (imaginary) friends. Just today I bought a heavy-duty torch, a pair of rugged boots, a helmet and a length of rope. I carried it all in a small bag
expecting my friends to ask me where I was headed and then pleading with me to let them join in on this mystery. But I was clear I would say no to all of them, not Poorvi though.
I can never say no to her. But she refuses to talk to me. So, that’s a relief. I’ve prepared some sandwiches and lemonade. I’ll open the door tonight. Maybe I should keep that long knife?
You never know what might be lurking in the shadows. I think, I better ask someone to join me in there. Let them go in first? Those growls I hear sometimes, must be from behind that door.
Perhaps my neighbour’s home has a door in the floor that leads to the top of a beautiful mountain or to the banks of a lazing river? And that’s why they are always so happy, I’ll try that door tonight.
Saurin Desai’s first love led to a roaring affair that's ongoing now since nearly 30 years. At the innocent age of 8 he met a comic book that whacked him on the head (pun intended) and he fell heels-over-head, literally (pun not intended). But being commitment-phobic, he had a couple of dalliances: with engineering, jobs & businesses, before succumbing to the seduction of the writer's life and giving up everything to become lazier than he ever was. Through all of this he continued to rendezvous with poetry. And after one very, very, long pregnant pause, the poems that had owned him all these years recently agreed to stop possessing him and start haunting the world. And, here we are..."Solitude and Other Obsessions"
The Door// By: Fareed Ghanem **** (1) The door; outside there is everything; flags and noise, traffic policemen, temptation apples, toothy eyes, ears calculating breath-bangs, tinny moon counting steps, cheeks which flower with love, ready to pass to oblivion, flattering
(1) The door; out of it there is everything; Flags and noise, traffic policemen, temptation apples, toothy eyes, ears calculating breath bangs, tinny moon counting steps, cheeks flowering with love ready to pass to oblivion, flattering choruses, cola tans, gay
Fingers printed on face they offered apologies for the mudslide after the typhoon standing on the mound of twisted bones; the state had the right to trample and extinguish a bright flame, a meteor, streak of dissent only the sect,