its the small things that
entice me to you
the way your glasses
kiss your cheekbones
the way you blush
when I cant
contain my stare
the way
your
voice is deeper than the pacific
and you are
as tall
as the leaning tower
I love how you
are scared of spiders
because I am too
I love that bone that gently emerges
when you
play violin
first chair
but that bone
entices me
almost as much as your smile
because you
fill the sum of your parts
with music

Dust flits gently on its arm; slowly & lazily.

As if not to cut, tear the patiently sewed seams.

Cotton against yellowing white thread.

*The sanctuary for reminiscing about mesmerising scenes

The throne for Kings and Queens without crowns to be seen

I'm overwhelm by ecstasy as I bask in this endless elation of delectation.

Each elbow edges back a bit
hands grasp the chair arm
Carbon levels in the atmosphere plummet as populations hold their breath in
anticipation

She moves with several smooth staccato shifts
Her hair swings like a tsunami wave
I try not to wave back.

I’ve seen piano keys with jerkier movements.
I’ve felt the world shift before
but never so smoothly.

She starts to stand, in slow-mo though
Even gravity can’t keep its hands off her for very long.

Somehow she strides
She strides!
Under the weight of that greatness

And after all the malarkey
She finally leaves the ******* room.

I was brought into this house
Ordered from the local furniture shop
Made to order according to specifications
I am a wingback,
Upholstered in full-grain leather  
True to my rich heritage
I was placed in the library
Amongst the illustrious works of famous writers
Half- a - century have passed, providing support
To the backbone of the family
Although tired, he finds solace in my cozy embrace
I give him my wings to fly into the world of literature
Cervantes, Bunyan, Bacon, Goehte, Dostoevsky, Chekov, Tolstoy
Some of the names from the illustrious collection
Not all were privileged to have a seat here
He was transported to each era, savoring the rich legacy
Of literature down the centuries
I was privy to the mind-boggling debates
Which he conducted with himself
Trying to reason each work of literature
A mere wingback rose to be a companion
Providing sturdy support on the mahogany legs
One fine day the reading session ended in deep slumber
Five decades of bonding and companionship came to an end
Now, I stand here, forlorn, at the corner of the library
Reminiscing the reading sessions, and siesta
The wingback does not have the wings to fly away from this bond




© Amitav (Radiance)

They say the third times the charm, but what if the third time is what pushes me to finally kick the chair that's under me?

This is dedicated to the chair in the room.

No, not the elephant. He is too obvious. He is merely an inconvenience people ignore as they go about their lives. I mean the chair in the room, rather all the chairs in our lives.

Chairs are silent, to us they only seem to have the purpose to support and comfort us. this is to those who go about their lives asking for little and drawing no attention to themselves. Yet they are always there to give us a break. To help us get our work done, to help our tired legs and minds.

This is to those who are selfless in their relationships. For they give no expectation of returned favor.

This is to the chairs in our lives.

She calmly unlocks the front door
as the wind flings the screen
through wild tantrums. She droops down
into her dusted rocker, pushing
with her lavender heels to start the sway.

Her sole taps softly,
as the chair creaks onto fallen lacquer
and the porch plays in discord
through dancing lace.

Interwoven hands lie atop her lap
in a sea of navy with floral ships
at its surface. Silver strands
fall from her clouded bun
and a few locks float past her sunken shoulders.

With jaded eyes she looks at the corner
to a poor table, where a cold candle
peaks among a grassy field of melted wax
riddled with burnt fuses.

And near the candle, a dusted white hat
remains anchored to the wooden surface.
She can still smell the stale cigar smoke
lingering in the room. “He’ll be here soon,”
she thinks as her daze slowly sets in.

The world seems quiet
as she fills her eyes with sleep
and the chair continues its march.
Her hands unlock from their grasp
and the screen door gently knocks.

"To the begining of the tape please
I don't like the end"
she said to me again and again.