my father lived in Indiamy father is a man of many colors.my father lived in India1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the nights when the moon stays asleep,
he lotions his palms with pomegranate juice.
the sugared blood pools in the creases of his
skin and stains it India’s red.
sometimes, my father scrubs his hands until
they are nothing but flesh & fruit rinds.
when he was younger - all skinned knees and pocket
knives - he must've slipped on a thousand marbles.
my father’s father was a welder who rolled and spun
steel into tiny spheres.
when he died, my father’s hands became blue and
free of pocket knives. to this day, he keeps a bag of
my grandfather’s marbles on our mantle.
from time to time, he shakes the cool metal into
his hands and waterfalls it back and forth.
if marbles were pomegranates, my father
would be the most diligent juicer.
this is the problem with blue hands:
they never let go of the things that scar them.
they try so hard to be red again.
my father doesn't like whistling because
an old woman in India told him it
My ROTG OC: IndiaMy ROTG OC: India1 month ago in Profiles More Like This
Full Name: India (not revealing last name yet!)
Nicknames: Little India (Man in moon), Indy (Sienna),
Meaning of Name: From India
Eye Color: Honey
Hair Color: Black
Skin Color: Light brown
Weight: 50.8 pounds
D.O.B: (Not revealed yet)
Place of Birth: (Not revealed yet)
Currently Living In: (Not revealed yet)
Personality: Curious, Indesicive, cute, happy, funny, giggly, feisty, polite, sweet
Family: (Not revealed yet)
Love interest: NONE! She's a child for god sakes!
Friends/Allies: Sienna, Man in moon
One Good Quality: Likes to make people feel better when they are sad
One Bad Quality: can be slightly annoying
Interests: My little pony, Making friends, Being with Sienna
Dislikes: people yelling at her and being mean to her
Abilities/Special Powers: (not revealed)
Quotes: Hello Sienna
Voice Actor (if they have one?): Quvenzhané Wallis (from beasts of the southern wild)
Back story: (Not revealed yet)
SweepAs soon as he stepped into the open field, he slung the minesweeper from his shoulder and pointed its nose to the ground. It was old, worn and heavy, and old and rough, calloused and breaking, and old. The metal between his hands was cold and chilled his fingers. If he was not careful he could step on the very mines he was trying to find. They would have to pick up the pieces of his body and to send the tags home where his wife would cry and hold his son and daughter close with nothing to show them of their father but a piece of metal engraved with "Ajeet Singh".Sweep3 weeks ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
One sweep, than another.
This war had taught him to never trust open spaces. Open spaces were where the mines were planted, where Prets lay in wait. France was green and damp just like the uniform he wore. It had been days since he was separated from his unit, and now the Allies were breathing on his neck, searching for POW’s, searching for the enemy of which he was one. &
IcelandXReader feeling better I watched my crush talk to the slutty girls who weren't afraid to talk to him. His name was Arthur. I was at one of Alfred's parties at the moment. My friend Emil was bitching about how much of a wuss I am for not talking to Arthur.IcelandXReader feeling better3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Y/n are you even listening to me?" Emil asked.
I know how Emil hated being ignored. He hated it. He was so used to everyone in his group ignoring him then I came along and listened to him. I guess he felt I was the one person who would always listen. I could hardly focus on my friend's problem though at the moment. I felt so hurt.
"Sorry Emil" I said.
"What do you even like about this douche bag anyway?" Emil asked looking over at Arthur.
I was at another one of Alfred's parties. It was getting late or early in the morning, so mostly stoners and drunks wee still there. We were playing spin the bottle, and Arthur landed on me. We kissed, but something happened. I didn't feel anythin
My MercyStains, red liquid dripsMy Mercy1 week ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
My blood on wood, wood to flesh
My heart bleeds for you
Historical Fiction Contest - Letter #343Note: the following letter has been perused and approved by the Censorship Department of Her Majesty's Postal Service to British India.Historical Fiction Contest - Letter #3431 month ago in Short Stories More Like This
28th March 1909
I hope that you and Amma and baray bhai are fine and well. I just managed to salvage a small amount of time to write to you this letter, informing you of my current position. I received the amount you sent via cheque two days back, and I was informed by Dr. Iqbal, our English Literature ustaad, that matters pertaining to my education in Government MAO College should not worry me that much. In fact, he's asked me to accompany him on one of his numerous dinners - a small little bit of respite from the hectic routine of the College, for the simple reason that what I've studied is being put into practice.
I'm in good health. In fact, I've never been better - our College recently hosted a seminar on Mr. Kipling and Mr. Tagore. The former came on the request of our Principal, Prof. Robson - who succeeded
Cosmic DrumsI love those limber Indian instrumentsCosmic Drums3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
of percussion - tanpura, santoor, tabla, bulbul tarang,
how they come sinuously pattering
beneath the protracted mourning notes of the voice.
But the rhythm of the drums accelerates, creating
irresistible patterns of complexity, to emulate constant surge of maya.
The soulful the voice will be swept away.
no song can be heard above karma's terrible flood.
Save the Living/Bless the DeadThe man in the suit is red-faced and loud.Save the Living/Bless the Dead6 hours ago in Free Verse More Like This
You should have let people see her! She was a symbol, people could have learned from her!
The man at the desk is angry and proud.
She deserved a private funeral! Besides, what good could it have done?!
The blue-suit man glares at the calm-angry man.
You don’t do enough to stop these things.
I do as much as I can. You think I want this to continue?
I don’t know. Do you?
The man behind the desk is enraged to his core.
Who the hell do you thi-?
The man is cut off by a loud knock on the door.
Argh! I thought I told my secretary not to let anyone through.
Send them away.
The door bangs open.
A young girl is visible.
She is angry.
She is not proud.
She is not loud.
She is just a girl.
What’s a small child like you doing in a place like this?
Are you lost?
The small girl walks up to the two men.
She is holding a picture.
The picture is of a bus
In TrafficA red light kinks trafficIn Traffic2 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
And the exhaust from a thousand engines
Finds its way into our rickshaw.
A woman comes to us
Her hand outstretched
Reaching for spare rupees.
She holds in her arms a two year old boy.
His shirt is green with blue stripes.
He is sleeping, but too deeply.
Surrounded by thick heat and blaring horns
his rest is out of place.
I remember Ada's words,
What she told me my first day here.
"Children don't sleep like that.
Gangs drug them to keep them still and quiet while the woman beg.
A woman with a baby always brings in more."
His shirt is green with blue stripes.
I look again
and I can see his circulatory system
designed with such care;
a small heart in the center
pumping poison throughout
his frail frame.
A careful cocktail
More fitting for a junky's fix.
His shirt is green with blue stripes.
I shake my head 'no' and look away
But she stands her ground,
having been told how foreigners fold
to starving mothers with sad eyes.
The digital clock on the stoplight
UnAryan IndiaIndians is a unarya race nowUnAryan India3 days ago in Letters More Like This
whites stop being fascinated about India..
havoc Indiama'am i wanted to go europe..india is all a havoc..havoc India3 days ago in Letters More Like This
CollectionWhat is a lifeCollection1 month ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
But a random collection
Of little moments
Unjust Seekingevery nonwhites prime aim in life is to achieve a white woman..Unjust Seeking1 month ago in Letters More Like This
someday this race called "white ladies", white race's pride might disappear from earth..
getting holy in america, nonwhite dating with white chicks, their growing richness..is all a bad sign..
I dont envy, I just know that by default nonwhites are filthy, ugly and cheap..with high desires in life..it doesnt suit them..
they are since years making researches in universities that how to lay white ladies...
I have seen my friends doing it since early 2000s so I know it..
LFaT - Part 1 Prologue/Chapter 1Letters From A Thief – Part 1: DefianceLFaT - Part 1 Prologue/Chapter 11 month ago in Short Stories More Like This
The year is 2077. Mankind’s lust for power and advancement has left most of the world in shambles. The masses of the world all came together to develop eight different sectors, based on a chromatic system: Rosemary, Orange, Chiffon, Olive, Midnight, Violet, Black, and White. The White Sector, the largest of the eight, oversees its inhabitants through the iron-willed forces of the Purveyors and Enforcers. Despite the best efforts of the White Government, crime springs up often within their heavy walls. With all sense of democracy nearly nonexistent, some have learned that it is best to live outside the law. Among those criminals, one who follows the moniker of The Black Fox has risen through the thin veil between nuisance and threat. The White Government has decided to take action…
A quiet day on the job. The night was young, the populace was few, and the air hung stale within the blank concrete wall
The Original EightThe Original Eight...The Original Eight2 weeks ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
You know the Justice league, the X-men, the Teen Titans, the Avengers, the Justice Society of America, The Fantastic Four, but did you know there's a team in a town called Dawson City.
Magic is a dying art in the world of sciences. She on the other hand kept the spirit of magic going. She's a young Japanese girl, she appeared with a purple star on her cheek. With a black and purple crop turtleneck sleeveless shirt. Fishnet gloves, a purple belt around her black leather pants as they are tucked into boots. She carried a wooded wand, made by the finest oak in Dawson City. The properties remain a mystery however it may had been dip in unicorn blood, covered in phoenix's ashes and fairy dust, clean off with scales of mermaid. She can cast any spell as long impels the rules of magic. She is Magic Star. Underneath all that magic is Tanaka Sato, a young girl who appeared as these calls it emo. Personally she appears as a Goth.
When the moon is full and the nights are qui