Short story: A Replica?Short story: A Replica?3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
So, you'd like to know a little bit about me? Certainly. I was the third of my class, but my designer Sir Daniel was so impressed he named us all after me. Oh, sorry getting rather ahead of myself! Age does funny things.
My name is Iron Duke. I used to be an express engine for the Great Western Railway, back in the days of good old Queen Victoria. I was built in 1847, designed by Sir Daniel Gooch and an update of two prototype engines Great Western and Great Britain. However as I said, the class was named after myself.
Based on Firefly's design (a cousin of mine), we had longer boilers and an additional leading wheelset. These made us a good deal more powerful my siblings and I could do 80 miles an hour, and we often hauled the 'Flying Dutchman' express; the fastest train in the world! Course, being broad gauge meant we were limited to Great Western lines,
A Matter of TimeA Matter of Time1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
A Matter of Time
You think Sandy's got vengeance in its eyes?
You see vengeance everywhere don’t you?
In the fast, wet winds churning around your Queens apartment
In the lightning flashes on Ocean Parkway where we walked once like a
Couple of refugees.
The waves will be taller than you, they’re saying
But I imagine you sitting on a grey dock somewhere
Oblivious of official warnings
Your dark wavy hair sticking to your forehead of scattered lies
Your hard, careless body framed in endless brine.
I might not be allowed to love you anymore
But the rules of capturing, consuming and catenating happen to be
As fluid as that road where water now rushes in the direction of
Gaping news cameras.
If you think Sandy’s got vengeance in its eyes
Why don’t you stop hiding behind words and walls and webs
And have a staring contest with me?
© Debjani Chakravarty 2012
Heavenly FireHeavenly Fire1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
The sky, consumed by
a spectral conflagration;
embers glow briefly
before the night's rising tide
completely quenches the fire.
ShellShell...Closing the doorShell3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Golden rays of sunlight
reflecting off your ebony hair
it's like I'm still there .
out of focus lost in the light
I lay awake at night
thinking about you
about us and what might have been
20 years without you
seems but a moment ago
Every time my pen hits the page
my words are of you
and the emptiness I've carried to this age
Running through memories
I destroy all my feelings
and the shell keeps on cracking
walking through doors abandoning my feelings
and an emptiness I cannot fill
Pouring out these feelings for you
that others could never understand
they don't see you from my point of view
Closing my eyes to turn it off
my fractured shell falls away
revealing myself in ways I never thought of
finally closing the door to my heart of glass.
The Iron StallionCan you hear it breathing as it climbs the hill?The Iron Stallion4 years ago in Other More Like This
Can you hear its pulse racing along the rails?
Can you hear it call as it chases the morning sun?
For it's a rare breed and a prized animal
One that shall never stop or falter
And is as wild as the wind
This is the Iron Stallion
The Return Of A LegendThe Return Of A Legend4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
One thousand wild horses and the burning flame.
The past was so terrible and the labour was to blame.
Whilst your dear sisters perished.
Your dearer fans cherished.
Until the 60's, when the end finally came
After a finale worth it's 15 guineas weight in gold.
Your employers made you redundant branding you as too old.
To the rescue the people came.
To preserve, run and maintain.
And over 41 years the legend again and again is retold.
As the 15 year silence is about to be broken by your voice.
The community of your followers can once again rejoice.
That the legend is born again.
Bursting through steam with her loyal men.
And round the Lancashire hills will ricochet the noise.
Not all your sisters disappeared from existence.
And despite the many companies rigorous resistance.
You shine on into the night.
Painted black but beacon bright.
And to the ranks you join the front defence.
Return of the legend, the one they all will say.
Is the most special of them all in every single way.
Death and Disadvantage(Stanza 1: Attention.)Death and Disadvantage4 years ago in Open More Like This
It comes to your attention during a crisis,
Not that my issues matter more than yours,
But all and all, nobody's issues matter -
Effort and intention shatter,
Jealousy and inequality hinge only on the idea,
That our natural rights hold any retention,
Beyond our our persona's purest intentions.
(Stanza 2: Randomnity.)
At any point - through any crisis - anything could fall,
Through disaster, the mighty may be reduced to mice,
Through fortune, the homeless, elevated to avarice
Power is taken and given, in random portions, at random times,
And so far, to these actions, humanity has found no rhythm, no rhyme.
(Stanza 3: Indignity)
How devoid of justice, how morally decrepit,
The unfeeling eye of the all must be compared to the heaven,
The beyond all, the invisible, the unexplainable, inconstant -
Heaven, the diadem of above, the justification for the individual,
The inconstant, the irrational, the self value, the soul,
Tossed into a black and septic hole,
Ode to the EnsnaredIf sadness was infernal hell,Ode to the Ensnared7 years ago in Open More Like This
And happiness, heavenly spell
When does the ruse, the ploy to rule
Unravel, and unseat the fool?
The other side of the wallThe other side of the wall8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Little girl on the other side of the wall, I realize that you will never ever know who I am, nor will you ever remember me. I'm the one who blasts rock and metal at all hours of the night while your trying to get your sleep, I'm the one whose voice singing off key that disturbs your play time constantly.
We live in two completely different worlds, you and I, yet we are brought together by one thing, the need to be someone in this simple, yet so complex planet we share.
I've walked by and noticed you sitting outside on the sidewalk, looking at the stars and the full moon. I've seen your chalk drawings of moons and strange planets, with stick figure on them and an arrow with the words '' me'' over it.
Oh the things I wish I could tell you, things I wish I was told when I was younger. To follow my first instincts about people when I first meet them is one thing I wish I had known - often when I've gotten a bad first vibe from people I've given them the be
DeferenceDeference9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In snow-filled nights
Let us find loneliness
In a bedroom filled with things
And looking sadly
Upon that solitary form
Embraced by headphones
Music to keep warm
And let us look sympathetically
At his scared hands
Murdering the keys
Forming words with his mind…
We will see a lonely tear
Trail from eye, to nose, follow the leader.
And now we watch him
Run his fingers through his hair
Stand, fall, stand, and fall again
Just before sitting down, with his thoughts.
And if we could see his mind
Possibly, quite possibly
We could understand…
Understand solitude, and the causes, or effects
All the same by now
Indeed, words may take on all new meaning
And one may find the definition of
The reception of hatred from those whose
Love you most desire.
And I find myself off topic…again
Once upon a time,
Sadness found a boy,
Embracing him with grime
For the utter lack of better rhyme
For he could not understand
The constant pressure
I.R.W.S Episode 1The Industrial Railway SeriesI.R.W.S Episode 13 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Andrew and the Slagheap
The steelworks on the Colshire Industrial Railway is a very busy place. Ore is brought down from the mines and from trains using the mainline, before being delivered to the blast-furnaces to be melted and made into steel, before being cast and forges into girders, chains, rails and other things for the factories further down the line. This process unfortunately often brings about impurities in the metal, like stones or soil, called 'slag'. These are removed in the smelting process, before being taken away in trucks to be delivered to what the workmen call 'Mount Slag', a giant pile of mud, soil and stones that have been melted down in the iron ore.
A big tank engine called Andrew usually does this job. It is dirty and often dangerous, but Andrew doesn't often mind. He likes the challenge of taking the red-hot wagons up the steep hill to dump it down the hillside of Mount Slag. However, the slag has been allowed to build up over a lo
Thoughts for the day 2Trampling on people will dirty your shoesThoughts for the day 23 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Every person is a spark that helps light Humanity
When the darkness surrounds you; become the light
Courage is saying what you think instead of what you should
To prepare a meal carefully is to know the art of patience
ManifestoManifesto4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Ask where the x goes.
On the line.
In the box
On the cheek of a lover
So near yet so far.
The times are a changing
Like they were the last decade.
What happened to us?
Were we deprived of our self belief?
Did socialism provide the cure?
Did conservatism take the core?
Did the left wing fight another loss?
Did the fat man to the far right attempt to be big boss?
Winston Churchill would be proud.
He'd see us fighting against all that is evil.
Just as his colonial forces did in the allied march.
Now those days are gone, and the opposite is suppressed
Their freedom is restricted, their pubs burned and levelled.
The oppressive asks "How far can this go towards ridiculous?"
I reply with the following.
"The sergeant in the desert with nothing more than a round"
"The whole Talibani army is bearing down upon him."
"He knows who to hit, he knows it's his time to die."
"So he asks the simple million dollar question: 'How far does a bullet fly?"
"Or does the bullet ch
The Power Of The NightSalute the night.The Power Of The Night4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The night gives you money.
The night gives you freedom of expression
Sing praises to the moon.
It reflects light upon your door.
It provides the beacon in the dark brightly shining
Since the year dot for evermore.
March through streetlight.
It gives you that vital piece of mind.
That you are alone, not being watched by eyes unheard.
Time to let go and unwind.
Marvel at the day sleepers.
Tell yourself you'll never be part of that crowd.
Slogging their guts out working their printless fingers to the bone.
Making their buck once the field is ploughed.
Stand in awe at the stars.
Bright as diamonds in a deep blue sky.
Thousands of the smallest flames from the great fire of all eternity.
Providing joy to your eye.
Watch the sun peek over the horizon.
Turning things steadily brighter
Look upon yourself with a new sense of self vision.
Telling yourself, you're a fighter.
Watch yet another sun rise.
Silhouetting the city's tall gloomy skyline.
For it's yet
My WorldI sat in the dark; cold, alone, without hopeMy World4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
and the world for me had ended.
Then from the cold blackness came a small light
and a hand reached out from the darkness
"Come with me" said a soft voice
"Take my hand, for I know the paths
through this dark land to a new world.
And so I reached out and took the hand,
and that little light exploded and filled my world
For the journey we had taken was not one of miles,
feet or inches but a journey of understanding.
War And PeaceAtrocite after disaster, guns bombing runs and endless siren drones.War And Peace4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fill the ears of the people, of the visitors to the palace of hell.
No flashing blues or sounding twos are able to halt the juggernaut.
That is progression, depression, obsession, recession, deflation.
The coffers never fill and bottom out repeated times with the constant levels
Of taxation and correction, with the ability to do something good
But it lies unused, dead and broken by the side of the road
Waiting for the next time that the world turns to find the gold.
Waiting, toes are swollen, feet hot, mind buzzing with the modern lust for life
As it races paces and traces the tracks and pathways taken by man.
On the endless quest to find the everlasting light beyond the horizon
Giving us hope, dreams, images, colour, fight, power, life, death.
Drop your weapons, the world can fight it's own battle, in the end the force of nature will win.
And send us all to pasture on fields of flanders flowers.
Bright red, where the
End RemembranceEnd Remembrance1 year ago in Historical More Like This
Remembrance Day originates at the end of World War I. The idea is to honor those who died in the line of duty, defending their country from enemies. For all its pompous words and fancy granite memorials littered with colorful flower bouquets, Remembrance Day and others like it have failed miserably in achieving this goal.
I've often been criticized as having no respect, and that can be an impediment when discussing certain topics. However, I am often in luck – hypocrisy deserves no respect. What changed as a result of the enormous sacrifice of those who died in WW1? As the first bombs of WW2 fell just two decades later, millions once again obediently lined up under various pieces of colored cloths to slaughter and be slaughtered. It became obvious that absolutely nothing had changed, and that the millions of WW1 had died in vain.
Most would agree that all that lip service paid to the sacrifice between the two world wars wasn't good enough. To truly honor their sacrifice would be
People ChangeI've learnt that people change,People Change1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's not something I want to do,
But it's something that I must arrange.
Each speck of my life that I swept under the rug,
Each time I said it didn't matter, with a dismissive shrug.
Each time is still ticking,
Just as each dog is still licking.
Even when I'm not there.
I saw someone look back in time
And pick up the pieces of her mind.
"This is me,
Each little part,
All of this was then,
But none of this is past".
She will show off each silly phase,
It really was her, and not 'just one of those days'.
Sometimes I wish that was me.
To have a grasp of life today,
Though it floats in my mind astray,
Each bird, each word, each comedy.
But only sometimes, do I wish that were me.
There were times when love was all the rage,
Subtle hearts, drawn on the corner of each page.
Some to the girl I wish I could talk to,
Some to the girl I wish would just walk through
My mind and into the room.
In time I came to see the reasons why,
A love, life like this was doomed t
HelperLast nightHelper1 year ago in Editorial More Like This
I was so tired. Everything was taken care of. The dogs were fed. The shower could wait until morning. The mail was taken in and the dishes were done. Nothing had exploded, so it was good that I hadn't dedicated my time to worrying that things would explode. I've come a long way, baby.
As I climbed the suddenly long and steep stairs and neared the room, a bit of fluffy white paper bedding, of the type that the rats and the ferrets use as a bed and a toilet and a means of self-expression, Forrest Gump feathered up at me. I imagine I smiled as I grabbed it off of my pant-leg with two fingers.
Then I opened the bedroom door.
Ferrets are very particular animals. They require a clear corner to poo in. They require a stoic human that will allow them to bite the web of their hand and shake their heads around really hard. They require overpriced ferret-safe toys to ignore while they chew your hairbrush. They require your used clothing to sleep in and what is this tiny hammock for, hu
Secret Life of MeSecret Life of Me5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
One step forward, two steps back, some days I can, some I just can't..
Love me like you did once, when hands were rough but eyes were soft..
You kissed my neck while tears stained my cheek, but if you saw it, you didn't speak..
The secret life I lead.
PhasesPhases1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
With beauty may come happiness, but with happiness always comes beauty.
When's the last time you did something for the first time?
Must I pretend I'm someone else, for all time?
I don't understand how I can care this much, when you don't care at all.
If you can't handle me at my worst, you certainly can't handle me at my best.
All that matters is who you are and the choices you make; that is what makes you, you.
RevengeRevenge is like a poison , spreading and consuming like a wildfire. It could also be compared to a virus, infecting everything until there is nothing left. Barack Obama told us "Voting is the best revenge" yet where does revenge get us? Nowhere, it has never helped anyone nor has it helped anything. I am not going to try and advertise for Mitt Romney, who you want to be president is your decision. All I ask is when you vote for Romney or Obama that you do so not for revenge, do so because you want this person in office. Is it not time that we let go of revenge?Revenge1 year ago in Profiles More Like This
A Thing For Blue EyesHe's got a thing for blue eyes,A Thing For Blue Eyes1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
he's got a devilish smile.
Trust me on this one, love,
he's been bad for a while.
I thought it was great,
I thought he was sweet,
but after a while,
it feels incomplete.
You're eyes start to burn,
with a flame of desire,
as he sits with another,
and you're alone by the fire.
He'll tear out your heart, friend,
and crush it to powder,
His mouth whispers lies,
but his eyes shout them louder.