Three Poems – Megha Sood


Days rolled into nights
and seasons turned into years
air turned heavy with
memories from
the yesteryear

And the warm breeze
doesn’t soothe me
the ground
has been cracked
sullen for years,
it is not forgiving anymore
put blisters in my sole
and cracks
hard to bear

The big old giant
tall in the courtyard
has shamelessly witnessed the
with its weak branches and
flailing stems
falling apart

That dark wretched well
hollowed and empty as
the widow’s eyes
and too dried up
to comfort any more souls
of the passerby

Those broken picket fences
once valiantly
marked the boundaries
has fallen from its grace
has lost their identity

Those aged doors
like my shattered
my name
on its cracked plate

This old town
rolling around in the dust
has lost its identity,
those broken souls
sleeping around me
are buried within
the folds of time.

I stand on the balcony and
look for those fireflies in the garden
dancing and circling
around every blade of grass
lighting it up
with the fire in their bellies
I soak the beauty
in those buzzing insects
in the hope they
can fill up the sadness
imbued in
every corner of my life
The noise and the cacophony
of the thousands of the
air conditioner
hanging like tongues
from a dead body
cooling us and
heating up the anger inside
people look like insects
crawling towards their
home smaller
than their hearts
the alabaster moon
hangs low tonight in the
heart of the ashen sky
I snub my cigarette and go back
inside in my house
away from this cacophony
where mind
begins its colloquy with the
the deafening silence
I’m at peace again.

has no concept
No definition
My poems have been devoid of emotions
utterly stripped of verses and syllables
with words stripped of its frame
and body
nothing seems to hold on
and stay glued to it
the body is bare
ready to mocked and scraped
and devoured by the
unscrupulous mind
with their turbid thoughts
As the night is patched by the
one eye of the
dark and sullen moon
I stare in the nights
my eyes are devoid of the light
gazing from the emptiness to nothing
they have lost the definition of hope
like the feeling of satiation
in the sunken folds of stomach
Of a hungry child
Like the palms of my granny
whose lines have been scraped clean
by the merciless
whiplash of time
I stand here with the
barren mind
devoid of thoughts
searching fervently
waiting for the new thought
to take birth
while my soul stands here
starting at the abyss
with it’s


Megha Sood lives in Jersey City, New Jersey. She is also a contributing author at GoDogGO Cafe, Candles Online, Whisper and the Roar and Poets Corner.

Her works have been featured in Visual Verse, Modern poetry, Spillwords, Literary heist, Poethead, and coming up in Modern Literature and many more.

She recently won the 1st prize in NAMI NJ Dara Axelrod Mental Health Poetry contest. She blogs at https://meghasworldsite.wordpress.com/


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