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Maleeha

PO# 511281
India
India
Once, man asked God to grant him immortality. Received a pen.
December 27, 2016
Hyderabad, India

Every year I post an open letter to Santa Claus, this year I am a bit late but I really do hope it reaches him in time.

Hello Santa. How are you doing? I sent a letter to you last year but it seems like your brother Krampus intervened and stopped the letter from reaching you, therefore I am making one more effort to talk to you. I have been getting Christmas presents since my childhood, some people say that it’s my parents who put those gifts there and you don't exist in reality. I really have no evidence of your existence but if you exist, then please reply.
Today is Christmas and I know you must be going quite busy. But I would really appreciate if you could take some time out of your sche...

TYPEWRITER
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September 17, 2016
Hyderabad, India

He moves through moonbeams slowly, he knows just how to hold me.
And when his edges soften, his body is my coffin.
I know he drains me slowly, he wears me down to bones in bed.
Must be the sign on my head, that says "Love me dead".
-MM

CREATIVE ILLUSION
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June 6, 2016
 

I had a dream once
A dream of a place unknown
Surrounded by paint peeled walls
Near a desk I stood alone
Immune to sound of squeaky ceiling fan
I stared at a crumbled paper on the floor
Oh so deeply unsettled I was
And then I saw an old man near the door

As I looked in his eyes full of concern
With surplus grief and remorse
My heart began to burn
He asked,
What else I expected of my life
When following my passion
was the only thing that I ever did.
So this loneliness was the result
The result of my selfish deed
With this thought in my mind
I woke up from my dream.
"Follow your passion", I thought
what exactly it meant?
as in the dream that I had
I did so and didn't feel content..

-Malee...

ASPHALT GREY
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January 1, 2016
Hyderabad, India

And so another year has started; and slowly, with decreasing fervor, we take down our Christmas lights, the decorations get put in a box, the tree gets packed up, and everything gets put away to collect another year’s dust. And we pick ourselves up,piece by piece, to face yet another year. Hopefully better than the last. With less mistakes, less scars. With less bad decisions that somehow a year later still linger in the air like the stench of spilled alcohol.

And we find ourselves marching on with the pretense of excitement for this some what second chance. Truth be told, we are all just wrung out and drained. But alas, we scrub out the white wine stained carpets of our souls, adopting the ...

TWO HANDS
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October 3, 2015
Hyderabad, India

You can’t take my breath
I still need it
to feed my small acres
this forest of mine
this spectacular
lush carbon sink
is dependent on me
and sustains me in kind

We’ve grown used to
this private exchange
to this chemical coitus
of intimate ethers
when one of us dies
the other will follow
and even though none
who remain may be
moved into mourning
this good little piece
of the natural world will
perchance be diminished

So stand yourself down
bring a halt to your
homicide practice of
thievery leave me alone
and move on to some
other poor soul whose
life counts for less than
my million green leaves

GEORGE REDHAWK FIRE
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September 27, 2015
Hyderabad, India

A smile is the purest and easiest way to portray oneself. Even the shabbiest of shabby person can look warm with just a smile. No one likes a grumpy person, do they? The other day I was late to reach some place and to add to it even the bus was leaving from the depot; I just thought of trying my luck and wave my hand to ask the driver to stop. To my surprise, he did halt the bus and instead of shouting at me, he smiled and said, “Try to reach early tomorrow”. His smile was so genuine that I couldn’t help but smile back. Till the time we reached the destination, he had the smile throughout and unlike the usual bus drivers he was very polite to others. It is only such happy faces that you remem...

ENJOY THE RIDE
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September 19, 2015
Hyderabad, India

Dear future child,

When you’re sixteen, and it’s three in the morning, and you find yourself unable to sleep, tears pooling in your eyes because you think you are worthless, get up. Get up, walk to the wash basin, wash your face, and snuggle into my bed. Whisper in my ear, “Maa, I’m scared.” And I promise, I’ll hold you so tight that you’ll forget the pain you were feeling a few moments ago.

 
Do not share your secrets with random strangers at four in the morning. Don’t let them see you at your weakest, because they will use you, and they will hurt you real bad. Every single person who said that they would never give up on you will give up, and trust me, sometimes within an hour of saying i...

LIFE IS GRAND!
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September 6, 2015
Hyderabad, India

I'm in love with the moon
I adore it
But why would it care?
It just smile and I'm
Overwhelmed with joy

Bright, beautiful, splendid
And magnificent it is.
And to touch it I crave
But why would it care?
It just smile and I'm
Overwhelmed with joy

Sometimes I peep out of my window
To have a glimpse of it
Sometimes I stare for a while
From my balcony
And Sometimes I stay inside
To see if it misses me
But why would it care?
It just smile and I'm
Overwhelmed with joy.

Though I am aware
Of its indifference to me.
But I still crave for it.
I gloom when it hides
In the cloud and fog.
I wander restlessly
Here and there to have a look.
And then it appears,
Again it smiles.
And yet again I'm
Overwh...

PUDDLE PERFECT
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September 4, 2015
Hyderabad, India

Light lures every soul. Why wouldn't it? A powerful dazzle of light hardly makes things visible beyond. It spreads with perfection and falls on everything. Crickets and bands of tiny insects just yearn for a touch of their darling light as the only crucial task of their life.
But halt!
Is it always the bright that is good?
Something sparkles; why is it necessarily celebrated as right?
I had never seen the air in my life. One fine day I switched off all the lights and closed all the doors and windows. A small opening in the ventilator allowed a faint ray to pass through. The ray fell on my face. I changed my position and saw the perfection of the dust particles. The beauty with which the air m...

LIFE IS GRAND!
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August 17, 2015
Hyderabad, India

Floating through the wound, already marked – your regret, your mistake.

Floating through life, knowing you are tainted, that I am your cross to bear.
Knowing it on the surface, but believing far below, hidden in the recesses of my mind, that the fault must be mine – no logic, no reason could ever convince me otherwise, not deep down in the dark primal corridors haunted by eyes that do nothing but glare and despise.

You made me a target, a magnet for every blank face, every cold soul – better the devil you know.
A flower, a star, magical light sent my way interpreted as a mere trick to break my defences – love, a foreign currency I had neither knowledge nor understanding of.

Floating throu...

ROSE GOLD CLOCK
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July 15, 2015
Hyderabad, India

I could kill a word and watch meaning bleed upon the floor. Highlighting the loss of savored literature.

Broken letters discarded like forgotten corpses. No headstone given for the simple letter A. Those are reserved for the Zs and Ws, their importance punctuated by limited usage. How sweet to become a part of a verb and feel the excitement of meaning. Instead we are normally shackled to two letter words that die at the end of sentences daily. And like walking the plank we jump from amateur pens into the sea of forgotten alphabets.

Still we writers sit daily at our trade. Killing words.

SUNRISE KINGDOM
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July 12, 2015
Hyderabad, India

*A CHILD'S EYE*

Imagine a world of love and laughter;
of fun filled days and freedom till after
the tea time call or the playtime bell,
get back into line or you'll catch some hell.

Imagine a world of wonder and jest;
of questions and answers; adventurous quest.
When time was your own and life was a whim,
to run through the streets; to walk and to swim.

Imagine a world with clouds upon high;
to lie on your back in the tall grass and sigh
at the shapes and forms floating by on the breeze,
such dreamy shapes, moving young minds with ease.

Imagine a world where the fun didn't end
with the setting sun, “Goodnight my friend,
see you tomorrow come hail, sleet or rain”.
Dreams of cold snow but ...

CELEBRATE
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June 30, 2015
Hyderabad, India

I dip my pen into my soul and sacrifice a little of myself for the next page. Realizing a sense of pain with each letter, I still feel a sense of satisfaction like a cutter upon completion. My pen, my baton to which I orchestrate my thoughts and funnel them into a screen. Through dancing fingers that race to match a dancing mind. My body spars its way into the phrases before me. Pictures of myself built with lazy run on sentences. A more true image than any golden tongue could tell. Writing myself because no one else ever will. Will ever care to. I rest upon my troubles and use them to leverage my writing hands as my fingers sprint across the keyboard. Moments in time recorded by the moment b...

SNOWFLAKE
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June 24, 2015
 

I don’t need no prose or art
in which to soothe my drained heart.
Many fools have appeared smart –
be it Plato or Descartes.

I don’t need no words of praise
to set my tender mind ablaze.
A sly remark or a witty phrase
can lull my soul into sleep for days.

I don’t need no gods or saints
who would hear out my complaints.
I live my life without restraints,
despite my faults and my taints.

I don’t need no hopes or dreams
to know it’s more than what it seems.
The Moon has its secrets as Sun has its beams,
I walk the line between these two extremes.

I don’t need no love or trust
to feel vibrant and robust.
Within each flame, there reigns a frost.
When fire ends, what else is lost?

EVERYTHING FITS
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June 19, 2015
 

My words travel across seas, oceans and mountains,
Carried by a creative breeze, fluttering over plains.
They stop here and there to be read, sometimes embraced,
By people I’ll never meet – such a shame, and what a waste!

My words reach you, touch you like a lover’s sweet caress,
And invade your mind – this thought leaves me breathless.
For one short moment, a precious, tenuous connection is made.
A connection I cherish, with a writer’s specific lack of shame.

INDIA
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June 18, 2015
 

Sometimes a writer decides
To reach inside your chest
And try to pull out your heart
Stop it, dammit! It ain’t a spare part.

Emotions stirred, shaken, blasted.
I think of everything I invested
In the writer’s tale and characters
Letting
One play God with mere letters.

The sole act of writing,
Such an obscenely powerful thing.
Writers simply handed blank cheques,
Readers reduced to quivering wrecks.

LETTRS SHERLOCK
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