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IN A CHANG’AA DRINKING SPREE

(ONE ACT PLAY)

BY

ALEXANDER   K   OPICHO










CASTE
Advocate; self-styled advocate, his real job is insurance agent
Sampaza-changaa drunkard
Teacher-brother to Sampaza, also a changaa taker
Monica-changaa seller
Austeen-a lad, son to Monica
Watchman-changaa drunkard
Rono-friend to watchman
Njeri-friend to Monica, single mother
Atieno-friend to Monica, single mother
Driver- changaa taker and a smoker
Barasa-changaa taker and electrician
Ndhiwa- changaa taker, brother to barasa
Yator-changaa taker brother to barasa
Mavachi-changaa taker, with a fallen out wife
Mandila-relative to mavachi
Agnesi-wife to teacher
Music
*chang’aa is homemade alcoholic spirit consumed by the peasants in east and central Africa.




ACT ONE
In a slum area of Eldoret town, very many ramshackle muddy walled houses are seen; the setting takes place in the house of Monica the Changaa seller. There is low tone music humming from the DVD, playing Vincent Ongidi’s ‘mother is better than father.’
Music; Bakeni Nebekhale, bukula indika,
           Bukula indika samwana, Udimake kungeni
          Khusoko busia, bukula indika omusumba,
          Bakhwee nebechile, bukula indika
          Udimake khusoko yaya, bukula indika….
Driver; (dancing with a tumbler of chang’aa in his hand) let me dance! This is my best Sunday, let me dance, I am son of a woman. Sing! Sing! Sing! For us Vincent, you son of Ongidi, (pointing at the DVD).
Advocate; the problem you are only dancing with your class a half empty, moreover, you are not following the rhythm , I thought you dance to this song by shaking your shoulders, but instead you are gyrating your waistline.
Driver; (still dancing) let me dance because when I will go to the grave I will not get another chance to dance.
Advocate; (gulps from his tumbler) will you buy me chang’aa of ten shillings?
Driver; let me finish dancing first, I will see what to do about it.
(Enters Sampaza and teacher, as music goes off)
Sampaza; why are you dudes stopping the music on my entering?
Driver; it is not us who have stopped the music; you go and ask Vincent Ongidi why he did not sing a long song.
Sampaza; (sits at the old couch) where is Monica?
Driver; you burn us a cigarette before you ask for Monica, were you not with Monica upto the mid of last night?
Sampaza; why were you spying on me upto the mid of the night?
Advocate; (to Driver) give Sampaza time to introduce his friend to us
Sampaza; (to teacher) sit on this stool, forget about this drunkards.
Teacher; will this stool not break and sent me down like humpty dumpty? (Shakes the stool and sits on it)
Sampaza; It cannot even Monica herself sits on it and she is more huge than you do
Advocate; (to Sampaza) this is your brother?
Sampaza; now listen all off you
All; Sampaza we are listening to you all of us
Sampaza; had I killed our mother, he could not have born, (pointing to teacher).
Driver; if someone had not told me, there is no way I could know that this man is your brother. You are totally different from one another. Look, he is fat, strong, clean, well shaven and groomed brown and is like he took a bathe in the morning before he came here to chang’aa place, but you Sampaza tell us when you last washed your clothes? Even forget of washing your body.
Sampaza; (to driver) if you want to beg chang’aa from teacher just beg without using your desperate tricks of false praises.
Advocate; but me, I could easily know that teacher is a brother to Sampaza by simply comparing the shape of their heads, they look alike.
Teacher; who is serving chang’aa today?  I want to buy some for you guys.
Driver; it is Austeen, let me call him for you (goes at the door shouting) Austeen! Austeen! Aha! This boy is as earless as a female monitor lizard, (comes back) I have called him for you.
Teacher; thanks, let me believe he won’t take time, I am really thirsty.
Advocate; you can mitigate your thirst with this one of mine (gives teacher a tumbler).
Teacher; (sips) it was not a bad stuff (passes the tumbler to Sampaza)
Sampaza; (takes a full swig) uhm! The stuff is really the tears of the lion.
(Enters Austeen)
Austeen; My God, Sampaza is here again! Sampaza, why did you run away with my money last time? You take the beer and run away, even you made my mother to quarrel me yester night.
Driver; (to Austeen) you boy manage your mouths, don’t you see Sampaza is the age of your mother?
Austeen; wait! Sampaza must give me the money, give me the money you Sampaza!
Teacher; let me pay for him, how much was it?
Austeen; imagine Sampaza took off running into the darkness of the night after taking chang’aa of fifty shillings. Imagine a whole tumbler of fifty shillings.
Teacher; that was bad, Sampaza you did something very bad. You know Monica is a single parent and you run away with her money. This chang’aa is like Monica’s husband, so please let us be honest and pay our bills;
Austeen ;( to teacher) are you paying for Sampaza?
Teacher; yes, but before that; pour a tumbler of chang’aa worthy fifty shillings for each of these elders, including Sampaza. I am going to pay that one myself. But serve me with a tumbler of chang’aa that goes for a hundred shillings. May be it can quench my thirst.
Driver; brother you are a man (shakes teacher’s hand).
Austeen; (to Advocate) stand up for some minutes; I want to remove a grenade from your chair.
Advocate; you mean I was just sitting on the tears of the lion?
Austeen; yes (he fishes out a yellow plastic container, feels each tumbler as required).
Sampaza; you boy! What are you doing? Fill my tumbler to the brim, why are you now conning me off my chang’aa?
Austeen; (politely) Sampaza listen, you know my hands always shake when I am holding something. I didn’t want to spill chang’aa by struggling to fill your tumbler to the brim.
Teacher; (sipping, closing his eyes) Austeen now play for us another music.
Driver; yaah! The music, play for us Marashi ya karafu.
Austeen; my mother has not yet bought the DVD for Marashi ya karafu, let me play for you this one (shows him the DVD), it will thrill you to your bone marrow, (inserts the DVD in to the player).
Music ;( playing) ukiwa wa enda nyubani kwangu heee,
                          Umwambie stella mimi  sitakucha,
                         Umwambie stella mimi nimefungwa jela,
                      Anisalie mtoto mama nitaleaaaa!
Driver; ndio hiyo! (Stands up to gyrate his waist swiftly) that is my best song from Tanzania. How I wish I was still in prison on Christmas day of last year.
Sampaza; (sipping at his tumbler) if you want to be in prison go and make love to your goat and call people to help you.
Driver; look at you, with all this women, why should I go for a goat?
Sampaza; (standing up to dance, shaking his shoulders) because you want to be in
Prison.
Austeen; (giggling and shouting) look! Look! Look at Sampaza, he does not know how to dance, he is waving his hands like wings of a chicken.
Sampaza; you dance and I see (daring Austeen)
Austeen ;( dancing) look! Look! Fire! Fire! Fire! (He goes to sit)
All; (laughing loudly and clapping) Austeen! Austeen!
Advocate; this boy Austeen, became old while in his mother’s womb
                     (Enters Monica, Rono and watchman)
Driver; here comes Monica, (provokes Monica for a dance, they both dance).
Advocate; (joins Monica and driver to dance) Monica! Monica! Daughter of Zinjathropus, Waa!
Monica; I am an early woman, yaani! Womanopithecus africanus (dancing).
Driver ;( pushing away advocate), dance away from here, why are you bringing here this evil smelling sweater of yours?
Advocate; I am sorry.
Driver; that is empty jealousy, you only saw Monica’s pelvis touching mine and you jumped here to disrupt my gusto.
                               (Music stops and they all get sited)
Monica; (to Austeen) give watchman and his friend chang’aa of twenty bob, I will pay myself.
Austeen; yes mama (serves watchman and Rono chang’aa)
Rono; Kongoi, I mean thank you Monica, you are such a generous woman? (Takes a full swig).
Monica; Karibu, don’t mind I am always and I will be always an early woman.
Sampaza; (to watchman) when you came in I thought you were the crow.
Watchman; (sipping) who? Me, I was a policeman ten years ago but I was ******.
Driver; (to Sampaza) this man is not a muriakole, he is not a cop. This is a D.D.O.
Advocate; meaning?
Driver; daily drinking officer, hmmm! The DDO.
All; laughing loudly.
Monica; (to advocate) how is your brother and his witchdoctor of a wife?
Advocate; Monica, just keep quiet, my brother is in problems.
Monica; which problems? I told him to marry me and he refused because I did not have book education.  I am now making more money from chang’aa in a day than even he does from his education. Let that man, that brother of yours, chew the full scale of his misfortune. Now tell me which problem has he?
Advocate; today very early in the morning I heard my brother screaming, of course from his house. Out of anxiety I rushed there to find out what was happening. Jesus! What I so…..
Driver; what was it? Just say.
Monica; a man has nothing to fear just say.
Teacher; where is Austeen?
Austeen; I am here
Teacher; serve each of us chang’aa of fifty shillings, start with him (pointing at the advocate) give Monica, your mother a tumbler, that one of a hundred shillings.
Austeen ;( serving as he sings) how long will they ****,
              Our brothers, while we stand watching them,
                Redemption songs, Bob Marley! Sons of ghetto!
Sampaza; Austeen you are always not measuring my chang’aa to the money given, now look, does this grasshoppers spittle qualify to be chang’aa of fifty shillings?
Austeen; Sampaza, I told you my hands are not steady, they always shake whenever I am holding something.
Sampaza; (to Monica) I will bring a medicine man to give some manyasi to this son of yours, so that he stops shaking his hands like an epileptic.
Monica; Sampaza, you drink your chang’aa and to hell with your medicine-man. Let us listen to what happened to the brother of advocate.
Advocate; now, as I was saying I found my brother’s wife had swollen my brothers ***** to its base, the ***** was full deep in her mouth, my brother was screaming but the was dead silent ******* the *****, her teeth tightly gripping it at the same time.
All; laughing loudly
Teacher; Maybe it was oral ***, but not domestic violence
Monica; oral ***!?
Teacher; yes, it is possible
Advocate; but why was he crying?
Monica; because his wife was ******* his *****
Teacher; that is the case
Advocate; if at all it was pleasurable then why was my brother screaming?
Teacher;  maybe he was on ******* ecstasy, the same way a woman can be when you suckle or even ****** her *****.
Monica; but I can’t allow a man to suckle the eye of my breast.
Driver; even me, I can’t suckle my wife
Teacher; why?
Driver; even also, in my culture, one is not allowed to suckle a woman’s ****
Teacher; is that sexuology or culture?
Watchman ;( to driver) yes, answer that! Answer that question from teacher.
Monica; but it is only a foolish woman who can allow a man to suckle her *****, or if she can then she is not serious with that man.
Teacher; (to Monica) then which man do you like? Sampaza?
Monica; Me do love Sampaza?
Teacher; yes, Sampaza
Monica; this Sampaza, is always as miserable as a corpse in the grave without a coffin.
Advocate; you are as miserable as a corpse in the grave without a coffin.
Sampaza; I am not, I know am great
Teacher; yes, and capable to love the early woman like Monica.
Sampaza; (to Austeen) play for us some better music.
Austeen; which one mama? Which music can I play?
Monica; play for them Pamela Nkutha (sings) Nakula ebusi,
                  Nakula ewunwa, lalalaa! Lalalaa! Laaaa!
Austeen; Mama, that one we don’t have. Let me play for them Brenda *****.
Music; (playing) Songea nikubambe, songea nikubusu,
                          Nakupenda, nakubusu ehee monica eheee!
Austeen; Kula Ngoma; he who does not have chic let him embrace a stone (exits)
All; (dancing violently) Monica! Monica waaaaaaa!
Watchman; (dancing) Sampaza can you suckle the ***** of a woman?
Sampaza; ask driver that question.
Driver; I cannot suckle the ***** of my wife.
Teacher; I depend with nature of a woman you are in the bed with.
Watchman; correct , some women has fallen ******* like chapattis, but if a chic has ***** and pointed breast, I  can ****** and suckle her like nothing else in this world. I can even suckle her *******.
Teacher; by the way, ******* are the fountain of pleasure to a woman, when you suckle her she will just moan; Sampaza! Sampaza! Sampazaaaaa!
All; laugh raucously
Monica; these men are drunk.
Driver; no, they are now happy, pick one of them for yourself.
Monica; the man that I can love now must be having a death certificate.
Teacher; what does it mean? Me I thought you need a dark skinned man like Sampaza, you know the dark the skin of a man the greater the ****** pleasure ehee…
                       (Enters Njeri and Atieno)
Njeri; Monica, are you not aware that were are late for Chama? Look you are still *****, you have not even combed you hair.
Monica; Njeri come in why are rioting at the door, look at Atieno she is as miserable as usual.
Njeri; she was flogged by the husband.
Atieno; (to Njeri) you! Watch your mouths, I don’t have a husband.
All; laugh, (Njeri and Atieno sits).
Sampaza; look at this one (pointing to Njeri) can I give you some money so that you do me a favour.
Njeri; which favour?
Sampaza; of this…(Makes a sign of *** with his fist).
Njeri; I don’t sleep with chang’aa drunkards
Atieno; even me
Sampaza; (staggering, and then falling on Njeri’s laps) I want! Truly I want!
Advocate; Sampaza is drunk, let me take him home (pulls Sampaza).
Sampaza; (resisting, avoiding to be pulled out by advocate) leave me alone! You thief! You are an insurance thief! Who told you that you are an advocate? You are not! You want to steal my money. No, all these people are thieves, Monica is a big thief, and they want to steal my brother’s money!  Teacher! Come out of here! This is a den of pickpockets! They will still your wallet, come we go! Thieves! Thieves!
                        (Advocate pulls Sampaza out, as they both exit)
Driver; Sampaza does not have manners.
Njeri; Imagine he fell on my laps, what if my husband found him?
Monica; He would have now divorced you for eating rats.
Njeri; When I have not eaten any rat, it was only a drunkard supporting himself on my legs.
Atieno; he has spoken a lot of words.
Driver; and all the words were total lies.
Monica; no, whatever is in the inner heart of a sober man is always on the tongue of the drunkard man.
Teacher; to mean what? Anyway, forget about Sampaza.
Watchman; by the way
Rono; I am also off my senses, I am seeing each of you having seven heads, and the heads are a
A PLAY


BY



ALEXANDER   K   OPICHO









THE CASTE
1. Chenje – Old man, father of Namugugu
2. Namugugu – Son of Chenje
3. Nanyuli – daughter of Lusaaka
4. Lusaaka – Old man, father of Nanyuli
5. Kulecho – wife of Lusaaka
6. Kuloba – wife of Chenje
7. Paulina – Old woman, neighbour to Chenje.
8. Child I, II and III – Nanyuli’s children
9. Policeman I, II and III
10. Mourners
11. Wangwe – a widowed village pastor

















ACTING HISTORY
This play was acted two times, on 25th and 26th December 2004 at Bokoli Roman Catholic Church, in Bokoli sub- location of Bungoma County in the western province of Kenya. The persons who acted and their respective roles are as below;

Wenani Kilong –stage director
Alexander k Opicho – Namugugu
Judith Sipapali Mutivoko- Nanyuli
Saul Sampaza Mazika Khayongo- Wangwe
Paul Lenin Maondo- Lusaaka
Peter Wajilontelela-  Chenje
Agnes Injila -  Kulecho
Beverline Kilobi- Paulina
Milka Molola Kitayi- Kuloba
Then mourners, children and police men changed roles often. This play was successfully stage performed and stunned the community audience to the helm.













PLOT
Language use in this play is not based on Standard English grammar, but is flexed to mirror social behaviour and actual life as well as assumptions of the people of Bokoli village in Bungoma district now Bungoma County in Western province of Kenya.

























ACT ONE
Scene One

This scene is set in Bokoli village of Western Kenya. In Chenje’s peasant hut, the mood is sombre. Chenje is busy thrashing lice from his old long trouser Kuloba, sitting on a short stool looking on.

Chenje: (thrashing a louse) these things are stubborn! The lice. You **** all of them today, and then tomorrow they are all-over. I hate them.
Kuloba: (sending out a cloud of smoke through her tobacco laden pipe). Nowadays I am tired. I have left them to do to me whatever they want (coughs) I killed them they were all over in my skirt.
Chenje: (looking straight at Kuloba) Do you know that they are significant?
Kuloba: What do they signify?
Chenje: Death
Kuloba: Now, who will die in this home? I have only one son. Let them stop their menace.
Chenje: I remember in 1968, two months that preceded my father’s death, they were all over. The lice were in every of my piece of clothes. Even the hat, handkerchief. I tell you what not!
Kuloba: (nodding), Yaa! I remember it very well my mzee, I had been married for about two years by then.
Chenje: Was it two years?
Kuloba: (assuringly) yes, (spots a cockroach on the floor goes at it and crushes it with her finger, then coughs with heavy sound) we had stayed together in a marriage for two years. That was when people had began back-biting me that I was barren. We did not have a child. We even also had the jiggers. I can still remember.
Chenje: Exactly (crashes a louse with his finger) we also had jiggers on our feet.
Kuloba: The jiggers are very troublesome. Even more than the lice and weevils.  
Chenje: But, the lice and jiggers, whenever they infest one’s home, they usually signify impending death of a family member.
Kuloba: Let them fail in Christ’s name. Because no one is ripe for death in this home. I have lost my five children. I only have one child. My son Namugugu – death let it fail. My son has to grow and have a family also like children of other people in this village. Let whoever that is practicing evil machinations against my family, my only child fail.
Chenje: (putting on the long-trouser from which he had been crushing lice) let others remain; I will **** them another time.
Kuloba: You will never finish them (giggles)
Chenje: You have reminded me, where is Namugugu today? I have not seen him.
Kuloba: He was here some while ago.
Chenje: (spitting out through an open window) He has become of an age. He is supposed to get married so that he can bear grand children for me. Had I the grand children they could even assist me to **** lice from my clothes. (Enters Namugugu) Come in boy, I want to talk to you.
Kuloba: (jokingly) you better give someone food, or anything to fill the stomach before you engages him in a talk.
Namugugu: (looks, at both Chenje and Kuloba, searchingly then goes for a chair next to him)
Mama! I am very hungry if you talk of feeding me, I really get thrilled (sits at a fold-chair, it breaks sending him down in a sprawl).
Kuloba: (exclaims) wooo! Sorry my son. This chair wants to **** (helps him up)
Namugugu: (waving his bleeding hand as he gets up) it has injured my hand. Too bad!
Chenje: (looking on) Sorry! Dress your finger with a piece of old clothes, to stop that blood oozing out.
Namugugu: (writhing in pain) No it was not a deep cut. It will soon stop bleeding even without a piece of rag.
Kuloba: (to Namugugu) let it be so. (Stands) let me go to my sweet potato field. There are some vivies, I have not harvested, I can get there some roots for our lunch (exits)
Chenje: (to Namugugu) my son even if you have injured your finger, but that will not prevent me from telling you what I am supposed to.
Namugugu: (with attention) yes.
Chenje: (pointing) sit to this other chair, it is safer than that one of yours.
Namugugu: (changing the chair) Thank you.
Chenje: You are now a big person. You are no longer an infant. I want you to come up with your own home. Look for a girl to marry. Don’t wait to grow more than here. The two years you have been in Nairobi, were really wasted. You could have been married, may you would now be having my two grand sons as per today.
Namugugu: Father I don’t refuse. But how can I marry and start up a family in a situation of extreme poverty? Do you want me to start a family with even nothing to eat?
Chenje: My son, you will be safer when you are a married beggar than a wife- less rich-man. No one is more exposed as a man without a wife.
Namugugu: (looking down) father it is true but not realistic.
Chenje: How?
Namugugu: All women tend to flock after a rich man.
Chenje: (laughs) my son, may be you don’t know. Let me tell you. One time you will remember, maybe I will be already dead by then. Look here, all riches flock after married men, all powers of darkness flock after married men and even all poverty flock after married. So, it is just a matter of living your life.
(Curtains)
SCENE TWO

Around Chenje’s hut, Kuloba and Namugugu are inside the hut; Chenje is out under the eaves. He is dropping at them.
Namugugu: Mama! Papa wants to drive wind of sadness permanently into my sail of life. He is always pressurizing me to get married at such a time when I totally have nothing. No food, no house no everything. Mama let me actually ask you; is it possible to get married in such a situation?
Kuloba: (Looking out if there is any one, but did not spot the eaves-dropping Chenje).
Forget. Marriage is not a Whiff of aroma. My son, try marriage in poverty and you will see.
Namugugu: (Emotionally) Now, if Papa knows that I will not have a happy married life, in such a situation, where I don’t have anything to support myself; then why is he singing for my marriage?
Kuloba: (gesticulating) He wants to mess you up the way he messed me up. He married me into his poverty. I have wasted away a whole of my life in his poverty. I regret. You! (Pointing) my son, never make a mistake of neither repeating nor replicating poverty of this home into your future through blind marriage.
Namugugu: (Approvingly) yes Mama, I get you.

Kuloba: (Assertively) moreover, you are the only offspring of my womb             (touching her stomach) I have never eaten anything from you. You have never bought me anything even a headscarf alone. Now, if you start with a wife will I ever benefit anything from you?
Namugugu: (looking agog) indeed Mama.
Kuloba: (commandingly) don’t marry! Women are very many. You can marry at any age, any time or even any place. But it is very good to remember child-price paid by your mother in bringing you up. As a man my son, you have to put it before all other things in your life.
Namugugu: (in an affirmative feat) yes Mama.
Kuloba: It is not easy to bring up a child up to an age when in poverty. As a mother you really suffer. I’ve suffered indeed to bring you up. Your father has never been able to put food on the table. It has been my burden through out. So my son, pleased before you go for women remember that!
Namugugu: Yes Mama, I will.
(Enters Chenje)
Chenje: (to Kuloba) you old wizard headed woman! Why do you want to put    my home to a full stop?
Kuloba: (shy) why? You mean you were not away? (Goes out behaving shyly)

Chenje: (in anger to Namugugu) you must become a man! Why do you give your ears to such toxic conversations? Your mother is wrong. Whatever she has told you today is pure lies. It is her laziness that made her poor. She is very wrong to festoon me in any blame…. I want you to think excellently as a man now. Avoid her tricky influence and get married. I have told you finally and I will never repeat telling you again.

Namugugu: (in a feat of shyness) But Papa, you are just exploding for no good reason, Mama has told me nothing bad……………………
Chenje: (Awfully) shut up! You old ox. Remove your ears from poisonous mouths of old women!
(Enters Nanyuli with an old green paper bag in her hand. Its contents were bulging).
Nanyuli: (knocking) Hodii! Hodii!
Chenje: (calmly) come in my daughter! Come in.
Nanyuli: (entering) thank you.
Chenje: (to Namugugu) give the chair to our visitor.
Namugugu: (shyly, paving Nanyuli to sit) Karibu, have a sit please.
Nanyuli: (swinging girlishly) I will not sit me I am in a hurry.
Chenje: (to Nanyuli) just sit for a little moment my daughter. Kindly sit.
Nanyuli: (sitting, putting a paper-bag on her laps) where is the grandmother who is usually in this house?
Chenje: Who?
Nanyuli: Kuloba, the old grandmother.
Namugugu: She has just briefly gone out.
Chenje: (to Nanyuli) she has gone to the potato field and Cassava field to look for some roots for our lunch.
Nanyuli: Hmm. She will get.
Chenje: Yes, it is also our prayer. Because we’re very hungry.
Nanyuli: I am sure she will get.
Chenje: (to Nanyuli) excuse me my daughter; tell me who your father is?
Nanyuli: (shyly) you mean you don’t know me? And me I know you.
Chenje: Yes I don’t know you. Also my eyes have grown old, unless you remind
me, I may not easily know you.
Nanyuli: I am Lusaaka’s daughter
Chenje: Eh! Which Lusaka? The one with a brown wife? I don’t know… her name is Kulecho?
Nanyuli: Yes
Chenje: That brown old-mother is your mother?
Nanyuli: Yes, she is my mother. I am her first – born.
Chenje: Ooh! This is good (goes forward to greet her) shake my fore-limb my
daughter.

Nanyuli: (shaking Chenje’s hand) Thank you.
Chenje: I don’t know if your father has ever told you. I was circumcised the same year with your grand-gather. In fact we were cut by the same knife. I mean we shared the same circumciser.
Nanyuli: No, he has not yet. You know he is always at school. He never stays at home.
Chenje: That is true. I know him, he teaches at our mission primary school at Bokoli market.
Nanyuli: Yes.
Chenje: What is your name my daughter?
Nanyuli: My name is Loisy Nanyuli Lusaaka.
Chenje: Very good. They are pretty names. Loisy is a Catholic baptismal name, Nanyuli is our Bukusu tribal name meaning wife of an iron-smith and Lusaaka is your father’s name.
Nanyuli: (laughs) But I am not a Catholic. We used to go to Catholic Church upto last year December. But we are now born again, saved children of God. Fellowshipping with the Church of Holy Mountain of Jesus christ. It is at Bokoli market.
Chenje: Good, my daughter, in fact when I will happen to meet with your father, or even your mother the brown lady, I will comment them for having brought you up under the arm of God.
Nanyuli: Thank you; or even you can as well come to our home one day.
Chenje: (laughs) actually, I will come.
Nanyuli: Now, I want to go
Chenje: But you have not stayed for long. Let us talk a little more my daughter.
Nanyuli: No, I will not. I had just brought some tea leaves for Kuloba the old grandmother.
Chenje: Ooh! Who gave you the tea leaves?
Nanyuli: I do hawk tea leaves door to door. I met her last time and she requested me to bring her some. So I want to give them to you (pointing at Namugugu) so that you can give them to her when she comes.
Namugugu: No problem. I will.
Nanyuli: (takes out a tumbler from the paper bag, fills the tumbler twice, pours the tea leaves  into an old piece of  newspaper, folds and gives  it to Namugugu) you will give them to grandmother, Kuloba.
Namugugu: (taking) thank you.
Chenje: My daughter, how much is a tumbler full of tea leaves, I mean when it is full?
Nanyuli: Ten shillings of Kenya
Chenje: My daughter, your price is good. Not like others.
Nanyuli: Thank you.
Namugugu: (To Nanyuli) What about money, she gave you already?
Nanyuli: No, but tell her that any day I may come for it.
Namugugu: Ok, I will not forget to tell her
Nanyuli: I am thankful. Let me go, we shall meet another day.
Chenje: Yes my daughter, pass my regards to your father.
Nanyuli: Yes I will (goes out)
Chenje: (Biting his finger) I wish I was a boy. Such a good woman would never slip through my fingers.
Chenje: But father she is already a tea leaves vendor!
(CURTAINS)


SCENE THREE
Nanyuli and Kulecho in a common room Nanyuli and Kulecho are standing at the table, Nanyuli is often suspecting a blow from Kulecho, counting coins from sale of tea leaves; Lusaaka is sited at couch taking a coffee from a ceramic red kettle.


Kulecho: (to Nanyuli) these monies are not balancing with your stock. It is like you have sold more tea leaves but you have less money. This is only seventy five shillings. When it is supposed to be one hundred and fifty. Because you sold fifteen tumblers you are only left with five tumblers.
Nanyuli: (Fidgeting) this is the whole money I have, everything I collected from sales is here.
Kulecho: (heatedly) be serious, you stupid woman! How can you sell everything and am not seeing any money?
Nanyuli: Mama, this is the whole money I have, I have not taken your money anywhere.
Kulecho: You have not taken the money anywhere! Then where is it? Do you know that I am going to slap you!
Nanyuli: (shaking) forgive me Mama
Kulecho: Then speak the truth before you are forgiven. Where is the money you collected from tea leaves sales?
Nanyuli: (in a feat of shyness) some I bought a short trouser for my child.
Kulecho: (very violent) after whose permission? You old cow, after whose permission (slaps Nanyuli with her whole mighty) Talk out!
Nanyuli: (Sobbingly) forgive me mother, I thought you would understand. That is why I bought a trouser for my son with your money!
Lusaaka: (shouting a cup of coffee in his hand, standing charged) teach her a lesson, slap her again!
Kulecho (slaps, Nanyuli continuously, some times ******* her cheeks, as Nanyuli wails) Give me my money! Give me my money! Give me my money! Give me my money! You lousy, irresponsible Con-woman (clicks)
Lusaaka: Are you tired, kick the *** out of that woman (inveighs a slap towards Nanyuli) I can slap you!
Nanyuli: (kneeling, bowedly, carrying up her hands) forgive me father, I will never repeat that mistake again (sobs)
Lusaaka: An in-corrigible, ****!
Kulecho: (to Nanyuli) You! Useless heap of human flesh. I very much regret to have sired a sell-out of your type. It is very painful for you to be a first offspring of my womb.
I curse my womb because of you. You have ever betrayed me. I took you to school you were never thankful, instead you became pregnant. You were fertilized in the bush by peasant boys.
You have given birth to three childlings, from three different fathers! You do it in my home. What a shame! Your father is a teacher, how have you made him a laughing stock among his colleagues, teachers? I have become sympathetic to you by putting you into business. I have given you tea leaves to sell. A very noble occupation for a wretch like you. You only go out sell tea leaves and put the money in your wolfish stomach. Nanyuli! Why do you always act like this?
Nanyuli: (sobbing) Forgive me mother. Some tea leaves I sold on credit. I will come with the money today?
Kulecho: You sold on credit?
Nanyuli: Yes
Kul
this is a manuscript of a play, please guys help me get any publisher who can do publishing of this play
i  will appreciate. thanks
Dead lover Jan 2016
Well before you know anything else about him,
I'm so happy right now, with my eyes filled upto brim,
Well yeah, it's about a special friend of mine,
Call him a friend, a daddy or a birdie, all are fine.

He's a down to Earth person, with no time to even show it!
Yet people call my birdie, insensitive!
I don't know what do they want to say,
And why as negative they want him to be portrayed.

He's not weird, just unique,
He's not being selective,just doing something for himself for the first time,
You can't call him Selfish.

He's not you, He's not me,
He's better support than us, you'll see!

He's an awesome person, with his awesomeness obscure,
That doesn't make him insecure!
He's no good around people you say,
But in reality, He's the same around all..

He's not fake, expressions he doesn't feel like he doesn't know how to make.
He's just too good the way he reacts,
'cause there's just one way he acts,
That's same,
And no adjective I know,
Could complete his name...

I call him a dad as of yet,
So that such an independent person of humanity,
I don't forget.

**Dad, Please stay
Stay my
Dad
Fifty years of peace,
Not always been bliss,
But they've all been filled with hope,
Seeing things get dope ;)
Going up the *****,
Christian nation,
So proud of this declaration,
But it doesn't mean other religions we can not allow,
There's always been freedom of worship even upto now.
Mother Zambia,indeed you're as peaceful as a mother,
Interesting and vibrant like a brother,
Loving as a sister.
Free from disaster,
Blessed are you among all nations,
These are my simple declarations,
That you shall exceed,
Greatness you shall supersede,
As I continue to intercede,
For your eventual success
You shall stand out in the masses.
For my country Zambia.Not yet independence day but yeah ;). The upcoming independence day will clock us 51 years of freedom.yeah yeah I know most of don't give a **** about such lol,but what the heck,just had to post this :p ,I love my country.
kevin morris Jan 2014
Susie gazed out at the atlantic. Great waves crashed against the cliffs . A gust of wind caught the girl almost knocking her off her feet. She seemed not to notice, her eyes remained fixed on the wild sea. Unbidden the words came to her
“Till the slow sea rise and the sheer cliff crumble,
    Till terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink,
Till the strength of the waves of the high tides humble
     The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink,
Here now in his triumph where all things falter,
     Stretched out on the spoils that his own hand spread,
As a god self-slain on his own strange altar,
                      Death lies dead.”
Susie’s salty tears mingled with the sea water which the ever increasing wind blew into her eyes.
“I’m not crying, it’s the sea water making my eyes sting” So what if I am crying? All this will pass and go. Long after I am dead this will remain, the uncaring ocean buffeting the cliffs as it has for millennia. Eventually the cliffs and the surrounding habitations will be claimed by the sea. Out of the sea life came and to the ocean humanity will return.
But I’m 20, I don’t want to die”.
All flesh is dust a mocking voice intoned. Susie whirled around. There was no one save for the gulls which wheeled and screeched overhead.
“Yes I will die but please god not yet. I have my whole life to look forward to” Susie said burying her face in her hands.  
“Stupid girl” the voice, like some  insidious demon crept into her brain.
“Shut up, shut up” the girl wept sticking her fingers into her ears attempting to silence the tormentor.
“Stupid slapper. Silly *****” the voice said undaunted by Susie’s attempts to silence it.
Doing her best to ignore whatever devil was taunting her Susie reached into her coat pocket. She felt the plain brown official envelope.
“I can’t, I won’t open it. I’ll throw it away. Better not to know”.
“Ignorance is bliss, little miss a coward is” the voice sneered.
“*******, *******” Susie screamed. Her words where lost in the howling of the wind and the crashing of the waves. Susie became aware of the crumpled envelope in her hands. In her agitation she had ******* it into a ball. How easy it would be to rid herself of the thing. One flick of her wrist and the letter would be lost forever in the depths of the Atlantic.
“Coward, coward” the voice taunted.
With a supreme effort Susie unscrewed the envelope and with trembling hands opened it. Reluctantly the girl extracted a crumpled letter.
“I can’t read it, I can’t” Susie wept. “Why did I do it? God let it be good news. Please, oh Christ I can’t bare it”.

Susie’s mind went back 4 months. She was drunk. She had never been so drunk in her entire life. The thump, thump of the music transported the girl into a world where only she and the beat, beat of the bass existed. She danced wildly letting herself be taken by the music to another realm.
Susie didn’t remember him arriving. One moment she was dancing alone, the next Susie was spinning around in the arms of a total stranger. Later that evening Susie recalled having *** in a cubicle in the gents toilets. Susie thought that she had consented but she had been so drunk she wasn’t sure.
“Christ, no ******. How could I have been so ****** stupid. I went to a good school, got all the right exams and I’m now at uni. I should have known better”.
Susie had gon to the hospital on the following day and had been tested for sexually transmitted diseases.
“You have ****** but that can easily be dealt with by antibiotics” the nurse had said.
Susie breathed a sigh of relief.
“You will, however need to come back in 3 months time for a *** test”.
“Can’t I have that today?”
“The *** virus can take upto 3 months to manifest itself so any test conducted today would be extremely unlikely to show whether you are, or are not carrying the virus”.
Susie had thrown herself into her studies for the next 3 months. When not studying she partied hard. Alcohol helped her to forget for some of the time but, in the early hours of the morning she would wake up sweating.
“What if I am infected? Christ only knows how many other girls that bloke slept with before we had ***”.
Eventually the 3 months passed and Susie returned to the hospital for her *** test.
“You can call in for your results in a few days time or, if you prefer just telephone the number on your card quoting your clinic number” the nurse said handing Susie a small slip of paper.
Susie had meant to call. She really had. However there always seemed to be something preventing her from making that call. There had been her friend’s wedding, her mum’s birthday and so, so many other things.
“Don’t make excuses. Of course you could have found a few minutes to make such an important telephone call” the insidious voice whispered in her ear.
“Yes, OK, I could. now ******* back to whatever rock you crawled out from under” Susie shouted.
Slowly Susie raised the paper to her face.
“Dear Miss Armstrong,
I refer to your visit of 4 July and the test conducted on that date. We have, unsuccessfully attempted to contact you on several occasions. Having been unable to do so I am writing to inform you of the result of your test for ***. I am pleased to advise that the test is negative (I.E. you are not *** positive).
Should you have any queries regarding this letter please call the number above and quote your clinic number to the health adviser.

Yours Sincerely “.
Susie wondered idly why doctors signatures almost always resembled squashed spiders. For the first time in many hours she smiled.
“Thank you god. Thank you”.
The gulls screeched overhead, the icey wind buffeted the girl and the great waves continued to crash against the crumbling cliffs. Susie no longer cared. She embraced the storm for it represented nature of which she was an integral part. It felt good to be alive. Susie took deep breaths.  The touch of the wind on her face  was wonderful. She smiled as her long black hair blew wildly in the sea breeze.  
“If you exist god, thank you, thank you” Susie said.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2022
LORD said, These have no master:
let them return every man to his house in peace.

From <https://biblehub.com/kjvs/1_kings/22.htm>

There came a time,
when none found peace,
on any channel there is war, and old tropes
from when aldous
huxley was running suggestions past ivy lee and freud's
nephew, new-thinking, yes, resonant, isn't it
eddy bernays, yes, the sizzle sell. And,
get to the yeses, all the promises
are yeses

lovely, lovely, lovely,
how easily we seem to live on TV, if it gets too gritty,
-oh fool me, once, hahaha
it has, it has gotten too, many grinding high friction,
on backsides warmed with old time religion,
-woodshed discussions were never discussed
nor was curiosity praised,
for asking if the grown ups knew what Miss Kitty's
girls did, down at the Long Branch, in Dodge City,
when it was wet,
and streets were muddy,
and had wooden side walks…. on the radio
Gunsmoke
Spurs into the saloon,
why sure, some fool's would.
But once.
You know, wanting to make the sound
of Marshall Dillon, coming through

old cobwebbed swing doors, as accurate as any
on black & white TV, the sound
of his spurs
on the boards,
made my grandma laugh.

We came exploring under the oath
of eternal hostility

and if need be, opposing force, prepositioned
in every way, upto 150,

and upto as well, if upto is not a valid preposition,
it is a position, I can conserve.
I take it all the time,
breathing upto and no more, no matter,
I can't explode, inhalation ceases
and I can't explode in rage,
by ceasing to exhale or ****.
-so
As to the power of oath it is seeming universal,
in the era of 5G unlimited plans, and shared
subscriptions,
publishers clearing house, trained sales force,
the biggest ever, at its height,
I was in that class, bright futures,
1962 Eighth graders in rural America sold more
magazine subscriptions than you may imagine,
as preparation for a future,
when sales is the only gig in town, and
nobody
is making any thing worth the pitch to patch the leaks,
it’s the same old story,
slowing down, settling for less, and saying that's enough,

but fully expecting too much on the backswing,
as we follow through, the amatuer guile, eh, act innocent

be one of miss kitty's girls, like on tv, but at Disneyland,
did they play the role, or
never know the whole, link to now from when,

the west was wild, big white men with guns,
came to tame it,
open many long branches… before Prohibition

Fifty more years, every body forget but AI, remembers,
Black Elk danced.

Backtalk to my professorial betters, ah
behave myself,
don't act like
ol' Johnny Apache, mockin' Annie Oakley wannabe
in Purple Santa Fe fringed leather jacket,
accented by rare Wuhan Pangolin
boots, belt, and saddle bag purse,
and a Caspel Twid straw hat, like Cher wore in People.

heh, hey Annie,
getcher gun, shoot me, I ain't good, I ain't dead,
or some such he said,
and he passed me his jug of Mogen David,
I took a pull,
just as no ****, a sheriffs deputy who had not
been shot, when he shoulda been,
in that Jamaica guy's song,
- Johnny's brother Jonah,  joined us in jail
- he was pretty bad shape, that night
- pukin' blood, and retchin'
the deputy at night was also oughta be dead, kinda man,
Johnny let me know later, that night in jail in 1970,
Cottonwood Arizona, I know,
I have told this story, too many times to make sense,

I also know Fred Douglas wrote his whole story
and published it, five times, as it rolled out….
over the years…
-thing reconnect, you gotta know the knots

so if I have the time and inclination,
and I happen to find a common sense, a mean measure,
- so much and no more,
- full of all thought about that and I agree

where all the rain that ever fell on me, at that time
once fell on someone you love, too, at the same time,
same rain,
some time, one time, I thought of that and thought of you,
because you read this line. And you thought so, too,
you said to yourself, life makes no sense,

if you feel you need to row your boat, or tote your weight,
this is an hour at the end of a happy life,

where cares were cast to mull over, wondering,
how did we get from then to now,
without being
normalized?
Mentally backtalking Victor Davis Hansen, as an old first earth day hippy, one year after Vietnam.
Denisse May 2014
I'll ride in a unicorn if I had a chance
Go visit the hidden garden and take a glance
I'll go drop and make a dance in the moon
Through the magic carpet and massive balloon.

I'll watch the star from falling
Tie a hanky and keep myself wishing
I'll fly with the help of the birds
Make a big conversation with the clouds.

I'll submerge in the sea to play with Ariel
Dance under water and collect shell
I'll travel to visit Alice in the Wonderland
Not minding the dirt in the sand.

I'll ride on the plane and go to Paris
Tour myself in the city of poetry
I'll go to Eiffel Tower to have my dream come true
I don't care if I will go alone, atleast I have my happiness upto my bone.

Paris will be an amazing trip, but it isn't enough
I want to go visit the Queen
In the place where my favorite boyband has been
The place called London, the land I wish I was on.

It's always an amazing thing to imagine
And there is no other place for this, only in this piece.
When you write poem, you can go where you want, you can do whatever you want, you can act without limits. That's an awesome thing in a poem. YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT.
Kopter Zero Jan 2014
Hug
Creep upto me,
And give me a hug.

Then disappear again,
If you like,
I promise I won't tell.
pk tunuri Mar 2018
You really want to make it upto me?
You better be sorry and let it be!

I've every right to be mad at you
You've made me cry every night, you got no clue

I regret every minute, I cared for you
I can't imagine what were you expecting me to do

All that mattered is your own point of view
You didn't even bother to ask me if it was true

If You really want to make it upto me
You better be sorry and let it be
when people hurt you and if they ever try to make it up to you, tell them what have you suffered and ask them to let it be because by then you should've learned being without them and must not allow them to take away your happiness once again.
Ashmita Agrahari Feb 2013
Clear your mind

Passion may look your fascination
But believe in your gratification
And if it is what you look upto perfection
Do give it your certification

Clear your mind

Orb may contain your lee
People may look lovely
But maybe its not really
There is always may be misapprehension

Clear your mind

Maybe things attract you completely
And you find them never leaving
And get into it without screening
But heartthrobing goes heartbreaking

Clear your mind

Nothing's gonna last forever
Except your beliefs and hardwork
So here is a thing to hard think
Clear Your Mind

—A.A.
Rh Sep 2018
Thrown into a sea of perfection.
Drowning under the falsity of cosmetics.
A fake smile is more geniune,
you taught me that.
Covering myself up with what you find ideal.
Starving myself for your love,
turning a blind eye on the bruises you leave everytime I slip up.
I have memorised your words by heart,
tattoed them on my wrist.
I hear them everytime I breath.
"LIVE UPTO MY PERFECTION"
I JUST WROTE A POEM BASICALLY.
Look upto him. He's no stranger.
Miles don't matter when blood is this thick.

Thank him. You have been who you are because of him.

Love him. And he loves you back unconditionally.

Miss him. Because you know you are safe in his presence.

Until next time. I love you brother.
Brother, if not for you, I am no where close to what I have become. You may be miles apart, but you've given me a lifetime of memories already, and I'm sure there's more to come.
Eliza Prasai Mar 2019
Indeed, it is lifeless
But it gives life to her hopes.
It is a witness;
Witness of her all time pains.
It is her friend whom
She shares her thoughts with.
She looks into a distance
Upto the place her eyes can see,
Tears flow down vigourously.
Yet, hope remains deep down the heart.
It shines;
Along with it shine her faiths,
Her faiths would have died a long ago
If it did not exist.
She gazes into its light,
It says to her,"your wait is not wasted."
She strengthens...
She grows stronger with the words.
When everything faded away,
When darkness covered the dawn of life,
When there was shadow all over,
It had helped her fight;
Fight with the pessimism of life.
To the rest of the world,
It was just a piece of mud.
But to her,
It was 'THE DIYO'
Her courage, her belief and her faith
Whose never ending light
Would provide her
A reason to fight and survive.
Diyo is a small lamp in Nepal which is associated with worships, prayers and optimism.
Ashmita Agrahari Oct 2012
Day goes on and days pass by
i don't know what m doin right now
I linger here n i mingle there
i don't know what am upto
This filthy mood n layering roof
Shutting doors n ringing phones
Chucking people n ******* weather
Strange outlook n fishy monsoon
Winters heading n lethargy prevailing
Less laconic n more problematic
More on fashion less in season
Exhausted fights n dull lights
To sweep all out magic has to be loud

—A.A.
Mr X May 2015
Loving someone is a confusing task.
Its that point of time when people don't really understand what they are upto.
Maybe its because, when we fall in love, we are not only driven by the modern world instincts,  but also by traits which we've inherited from our earliest ancestors.
Its an amalgam of varying emotions resulting from numerous hormones.
We get involved in the act of love either to enrich out lives or to generate lives...its all logic.
However, the simplest act of expressing or explaining this strange feeling, appears to be a mammoth task for most.
We call it 'love' just like we call God 'God', but its just a verbal pronunciation for things we don't understand, for things which are much greater than just the words...
We say 'I love you' but we mean so much more, even the most beautiful poems cannot possibly explain it properly.
Hundreds of letters written by a lover cannot compensate for the lover in person,
10000 words cannot compensate for a simple gesture or an act of love.
Words are just sounds which transmit thoughts from one mind to the other,
But in order to touch the deepest core of the brain, which is the heart, one must go way beyond the thoughts, way beyond those 10000 words.
And you've already guessed it perhaps...this is definitely not a poem. Just another string of thought.
Hey, I miss you
How've you been
I've been missing you like crazy
It was my birthday recently
And you didn't call
Then again, I've never called you up
On your birthday either
I miss you, I miss you, I miss you
Where have you been
What've you been upto
Any new people that I should know about
I wish that our relationship was that easy
Gods, if only it were

I punch at these walls, till my knuckles
Are bruised, the nerves below straining
The skin peeling, my hands stinging
I want to punch them till they fall
And you can see the things that make me Me
I wish I could reveal my scars to you
I wish I knew for certain you wouldn't
Never, ever, would you, give them away
To anyone else, laugh about them
Don't hear me, don't see the tears
Pooling in my eyes

All I want to do is let you know
How much I really treasure
Your companionship, your warmth
Your sardonic comments, thorny opinions
That let me know you care
How can anything be perfect if you aren't here
I ignore perfection, hoping to be content
With mediocrity instead
Why aren't you here? Right here
Where I need you, when I need you

It has been ages since we met
I am forgetting your eyes, your smile
I really want to sit next to you
Listen to you talk the night away
About trivialities, then a little while
Later, I want to tell you about school
That horrible ***** who was mean to me
Tell you how betrayed I feel
How lonely I really am
How these walls defeat me each time

As I blink away my tears,
My voice hitches
I can imagine you patting me on my back
Politely, nicely
Saying that it'll be fine, it is only a matter
Of a few more years, that I should remain strong
If you knew how I looked up to you,
Would you be scared?
Don't be, please just don't be

You live a thousand miles away
There's no way you can let me down
You can't let me down
Which is why I trust in your image
Not you, your image
I wish I could share my cynicism
With the person built up in your image
Have them react as I imagine them to

Maybe, they'll lean over for a hug or two
But it won't matter because it'll never be true
The walls will stay up
Despite my punches and if I told them to anyone
They'd just feel awkward knowing someone
Stripped of their barriers
They'd take advantage, laugh it off
Laugh me, my troubles off as
The ramblings of a fool,
An Anonymous Joker

I wish for your reflection in a mirror,
The person built up in your image
Wish I could tell you of the dark
Dark thoughts that linger
Sometimes past nighttime
Talking about crimson dreams
Blades, knives and high buildings
I wish I could confide in you
And I'd gain strength from
Your confidence in me
Telling me dawn will come soon
I wish I could call you up at three
Desperately gasp out whichever nightmare
Woke me up this time

Yet I make do with rubbing my face
Nearly peeling the skin off
With cold water and soap
I rub at my eyes frantically
Waiting for the tears to stop
I avoid looking in the mirrors
Avoid seeing my reflection,
Which features in most of my nightmares

I just wish I could talk to you
A mirror image of you
Quietly, silently
Maybe just a sentence or two from you
It would calm me down
Lord knows, one sentence said by you
Left running in my head
For over half a year,
Gave me inspiration, strength
To live on, fight on, keep smiling
Through the day, everyday
People looking at me and wondering
Whether I'd heard about the latest
Hot gossip about me, questioning
My ideals, my morals, my goals
I wish, I wish, I wish

But it's alright
I'll be strong
I'll converse with my mirror image,
My reflection till you return
Give me another phrase to gain from
(I sound needy, don't I?)
I'll talk to it quietly because I know
Despite the blurred outline,
Sharp edges, and little cracks
My reflection understands more about me
My inner desires, than I do
An anonymous reflection
For an anonymous personality
Can there be anything more justifiable?
I suggest that you don't really look at the title for this one. Couldn't think of anything better.
http://zenpencils.com/comic/74-clive-barker-fearful-things/
Just found the above link. Not mine, obviously. But I thought it suited the poem. :P
Media is the muse of our generation
Media amuses our degeneration
It's in the air abusing our obsession
If you cared it would feel like an intervention

We're failing at living upto what we're dying for

Opening our eyes
To the open skies
Seeing past the hoardings
Looking past the lies

The TV tells you a stolen story
That the advertisers asked to put before me
And paid an extra dime to change your mind
Cause it's laid on prime time

We're failing at living upto what we're dying for

Opening our eyes
To the open skies
Seeing past the hoardings
Looking past the lies

I forgot what sunrise looked like
What mama's sundays cooked like
What I really like
Before I went on this mindwarp hike

We're failing at living upto what we're dying for

Opening our eyes
To the open skies
Seeing past the hoardings
Looking past the lies
Akash mazumdar Nov 2017
Before I die please tell me how you do all this ,
How are you carrying me? how you kept a stupid me sharing extreme bliss,
How you do all of this ; being polite and kissing with your prayers,
Knowing that may be it won't give you what you deserve and end up devastated with a sharp spear ,
That spear dipped in poison of pain,
And sorrow along with only threatening thunder but no soothening rain,
The rain which relieves the painful emotions,
Which are highly toxic and in extreme end up with potions ,
It's not just a big heart which take all hurt inside ,
And just pushing endless Love outside,
Even if I annoy you; tease you or push you off the ease and stab you from inside ,
You don't manage you just put them aside ,
Put it in the trash can and wrap me with care and made yourself so polite ,
Is it really possible to do without no reason at all,
Or there is something like a big treasure at the end of this fall?
I mean really is there any big worth behind all of this?
Or just it's only you and only just board me up in your boat; oh no not a boat it's a ship ,
Ship carrying every thing which can make things more than ease,
Counting from a little help upto a endless number of beautiful moments with ,
Are you a human? do you really exist?
I have numerous of questions for you; will you stay in contact forever ?
And if you don't I don't have a problem but I wish for you God must give you happiness in a big basket everyday and a person to love you every second.
Every time I've been a stupid making mistakes thousand of times.
axr Mar 2016
13
Who knew our late night conversations would turn into confessions?
Kisses in the parking lot,
Hands intertwined,
the ink on our body fading,
I think I see the stars reflected in your eyes.
We laughed when we saw your demons drown
We could run away in just a ball gown.

They think it's just a phase
They call us insane
but they don't need to know anything.
They think we are sins
but they don't know what goes on within
They think that we are upto something.

We've been driving for 13 miles now
Who knows if they ever find out?
All I need is your everything.
this was going to be another boy loves girl and admires her poem till I decided to add a twist. It's about a same *** couple. My first ever piece on the LGBTQ
Shashi Sep 2010
An angel told me yesterday
To live
One has to die first
And I did


Now is this life
Where my thoughts corrode
My innerself
And mind takes over
My Senses
And finds no solace
The Chaos balancing two opposites
Continues to lives in past
Looks upto future
But never stays
In
The present


Is this life
Where all one does
Is to pay for
Past
Karma as they call
While one does not even know
How much balance one still has
To pay


How can I live my life
When
Whenever I ask the angels
They let me die
Another death.
@Shashi 09/2010
http://www.facebook.com/?sk=2361831622#!/photo.php?pid=6809522&fbid;=471204147867&op;=1&o;=all&view;=all&subj;=127127217313510&ai;;=-1&oid;=127127217313510&id;=689712867
Josh Morter Mar 2015
Life is one of those questions we would all like to answer
Love is a game that we all like to play.
Play with our hearts and feelings
we do this every single day.
Sometimes through happiness,
sometimes regret,
sometimes things can happen that we'd all like to forget.
Yet we will get on with our lives and rarely ever let,
another player roll our dice
to decide on where we go,
a day to go by without letting someone know.
Know the feelings that are in us, the need to speak the truth.
We merely just get stuck in a game, a game that we get used.
Used to playing,
together or alone.
People state that.
the heart it is a home
A home we welcome visitors to,
Stay.
Linger there forever, or just spend a day.
A memory is a moment that is forged down deep within our heart, it is a single solitary snippet of life with which you cannot part.
Let go of or forget.
It's part of our life.
It's become part of this game.
It's there until game over, it shall always here remain.
Pulled into contention as part of the big question that is;
What's the meaning of life?
as within yourself you question,
what if?
What of this love I felt, how can it now cease, was it destined to be my life, my answer, my secret *** of gold.
The love the stories mention that you shall never get to hold.
Hold in your arms, with their head upon your chest.
Hold upto the skies as they rise above the rest.

Its something to always ponder on, as if that were the case
I thought I understood the question and found my own meaning of life
Yet I'm still part of this race so there's still time to decide.

So maybe there might just be a chance, that it could be true.
Life has more than one meaning.
and maybe for me it wasn't you.
I have been searching through all my unfinished poems or little phrases I had written down to give me motivation.
this one was partially written so I decided to edit it and play on the premise that love is just a game we all play to make life have more meaning. (not sure I agree with that viewpoint though)
Ignatius Hosiana Aug 2015
I remember the first time I said hello
The evening sky was funny blue
But the Sunset was somewhat mellow
And to tell the truth I hadn't a clue
Of what I was upto speaking like that
Thought it would exasperate
But instead you laughed from the start
While I went on, and I felt great
I've met a lot of girls in my endeavors
Yet meeting you was my favorite
Straight away you did me no favors
But yes, that was just alright
I realized you were a thing worth the strive
And winning you over after a longtime,I felt alive
tangshunzi Jul 2014
Una cosa so per certo : quando una squadra di talento di fornitori si riunisce per una giornata di ispirazione .è un magico .cosa magica .Pensate Angela Roy Newton .Michelle Lange ed Eventi ( + molti.molti di più ) di tutte le forze che uniscono Kat Eitner per realizzare una giornata in stile boho di abbastanza .E 'un ambiente lussureggiante soddisfa tutte le cose impressionante e si può vedere ogni all'ultimo momento stupendo proprio qui in piena galleria .


E un film dolce da Nayeem Vohra Films .Si prega di aggiornare il tuo

browserColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsInnStylesBohemianRomantic Da Michelle Lange .Come fotografo .uno dei nostri compiti è abiti da sposa 2014 quello di essere un passo avanti a tutti gli altri.I nostri clienti sono i palpiti delle nostre imprese .e le decisioni e le azioni relative alla funzione di quelle imprese dovrebbero sempre tenere a mente che il battito cardiaco .Fin dall'inizio della mia attività .** avuto un molto dettagliato piano ' se qualcosa mai accaduto ' .Entrambi i miei genitori .mio marito hanno il piano dettagliato .Alcuni dei miei amici fotografi più vicini sono consapevoli del fatto che essi sono elencati come i contatti .Mai in un milione di anni avrei pensato che questo piano avrebbe dovuto entrare in vigore .ma il giorno prima di questa ripresa ispirazione ( mesi previsti in anticipo) .lo ha fatto .E il mio cuore le imprese non saltare un po ' .Credo davvero che una forza superiore mi ha fatto richiede una appendicectomia d'emergenza in un momento in cui ** avuto una pausa nella stagione dei matrimoni .La cosa più importante .è che venendo a contatto con ciò che è descritto nel mio piano .come un backup fotografo di emergenza .Angela Roy Newton intensificato al piatto per fotografare questa ispirazione ripresa ero così entusiasta per mesi.Questo la dice lunga su quelli di carattere e l'industria nel suo complesso .L'industria del matrimonio .mentre competitivo.è guidata da persone che amano l'amore e credono nel lavoro di squadra .Mentre spero di avere mai mettere questo piano di emergenza in vigore di nuovo .mi conforta sapere di quale grande industria sono una parte di .

Da Kat Eitner Eventi .Questa ripresa ispirazione sviluppato da una visione di elementi bohemien



e nido d'ape .I mobili antichi nera da Trunk Vintage vacanze erano lo sfondo perfetto per i pops di corallo a Karma tavolo Fiori e design bouquet.Mostra arresto Marchesa e Reem Acra abiti di Elizabeth Giovanni.trapuntata runner e non convenzionale bella tavola disegno floreale aggiunti elementi di Boemia.Speriamo di abiti da sposa 2014 ispirare le coppie di incorporare accattivanti elementi.come il nido d'ape o pop di colore .tutto il loro grande giorno .Fotografia
: Angela Roy Newton | Fotografia : Michelle Lange | Fotografia: Nayeem Vohra Films | Pianificazione : Kat Eitner Eventi | Cake: Cake Fiction | Inviti : Poco signorina signora | Abiti da sposa : Elizabeth Giovanni | Lavagna Arte: Chalk It UpTo Love | Fiori \u0026 Event design: Karma Flowers | capelli: StylesOnB | Località : Raritan Inn | Trucco : Nicole Makeup Artistry Sievers | vestiti da sposa Favors Profumo : Anthropologie | Noleggio Mobili Vintage: Affitto Trunk VintageElizabeth Johns e Angela Roy Newton Fotografia sono membri del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Elizabeth Johns vedi portfolio Angela Roy Newton Fotografia VIEW
http://www.belloabito.com/abiti-da-sposa-2014-c-13
http://www.belloabito.com/goods.php?id=1001
http://188.138.88.219/imagesld/td//t35/productthumb/2/2264035353535_397861.jpg
Bohemian Inspiration Spara_abiti da sposa on line
Created by perfection,
Not from without but with great intention,
Physically,you're flawless.
From your toes to your face,
Upto the longest strand of your hair,
Believing this may be a great dare,
But its true,
Its true that the flaws flow from within you,
Not your body,physique or biological make up but the mind,
And to this notion;most of us are blind.
Accepting and loving yourself the way you are,
Makes you shine flawlessly like a star.
Flawlessness isn't in having no scars,or blemishes or birthmarks or whatever,its in accepting all those things and embracing them,if you'd like to change;do that but atleast accept them and embrace them(part of life).
By the way,I'm speaking of physical flawlessness..my own views,I really don't know about those of "society"(whoever makes up society "rules"/whoever "society" is) .
This is for all:men,women,girls,boys.
Thanks for reading!!!!! :) :*
Akash mazumdar Nov 2014
I need you to hold my hand,
i need you to hold me,
i need you to count my tears
one,two or upto infinity,
i need you to place my random thoughts in a band,
i need you to make me move,
from the sadness grove,
i need you to represent my myself,
i need you because i dont want to fail,
i need you to help me fresh air  inhale,
i need you to talk and share,
i need you because i want to complete my prayer,
to the god to make every thing all right,
i need you in my every fight,
i need you to love my scars,
i need you in my empty sky as shining stars,
i need you to bring the solitude of aticate,
i need you as my best friend,
i need you as my all above,
i need you as my luck and love.
Sanya singh Jan 2021
Lips razor sharp
Smile more of a smirk
Sword as her best friend
She could take over the world

Goddess of war she was called
But she was a woman
For the times weren’t right
And for them it was all

Had she been here today
Everyone would’ve bowed
Because goddess of war she is
And this time it is all

The epitome of a woman
With bravery , beauty and brain
Curse they considered
As a Boon it will be remembered

They became raged
When Athena shone bright
For what they remember her
They did bow down in fright

Goddess of wisdom , goddess of war
Favourite daughter of Zeus she was
The most wisest , the most courageous
A favour of Hera’s ire it was

Welcome here Athena
For the world now craves you
An example of a true warrior
And an idol to look upto

Most ingenious of Olympian gods
Power ran in her blood
As for war she was born
And as for war she will die

Every girl is now Athena
That is what the world needs
Standing up to the wrong
B’cause that is what Athena means.

Just like everything
times should change
Throne was for Athena
And for her it shall remain.
inspired by the greek goddess of war. its a take on what effect she would've have on the people of 21st century.
Akash mazumdar Dec 2014
The judgement place the judgement time,
is all mean to all are defined,
it's in the hand of devine,
but i guessed all the terms of dignity in mine,
after getting this feel,
become the cruel man and want to steal,
the chain of laws & want to rearrange it,
to add my own aspects to it,
but i always loose the balance of true or false,
and stuck between the negetive bouncing *****,
behind the justice walls of separation,
difference is of the conditon,
which forms the situation of bad deeds,
detoration of the relation between person whom i need,
so i left all upon the luck,
where & upto which high l'll go in life but,
i still walking on the same path on same street.
Mystic Ink Plus Nov 2019
You deserve
Someone
Who
Never
Gives up

You deserve
The One
Who embraces
Your soul

You deserve
That One
Who
Keeps you
Priority

You deserve
The One
Who listens
Who replies
Who feels like home

And
The rest is
Upto you
Genre: Observational
Theme: What you deserve || For your honesty
I know its late, but it’s a Sunday
a lazy sunny morning
                               after the stormy night yesterday
and all I want is to lie
right here beside you amongst the pillows
                                                        ­      and nuzzle upto you
bury my face in your chest
and feel your warmth inching its way from
                                                                ­         my heart to my toes
the aches and pains of the week
slowly melting away in your bear hug
                                                             ­         and my world lighting up
with your smile
“aren’t you getting up?”, you ask
my eyes are stuck together with sleep
I’m not ready to let the world in yet
                                                             ­            want to shut it out today
but you are persistent
i see you’ve been up before me
i smell the coffee in your breath

                                                         ­      i find coffee-flavoured lips
                                                            ­       are quite addictive


Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Jayantee Khare Jul 2017
What if, i didn't find my calling?
Do you love me the way i am?

Neither very attractive,
Nor hardworking.
Neither a sportsman,
Nor a marksman.
Neither an engineer,
Nor a doctor.
Neither a poet,
Nor an artist.
Neither a boon,
Nor a bane.

Do you love me the way i am?

My grades are not upto the mark,
Yet i could be much more than you could ask!

People call me vain,
Passions none to name.

May not fulfill dreams cherished by you,
May not walk on the path shown by you!

Do you love me the way i am?

All what my peers have is better than mine!
For me, unconditional love is just fine!

Oh my dear parents!
Am i not worthy?

Maybe someday I'll find my calling!
Till then, please love me the way i am?
This write is inspired by a teenager, who is under pressure to perform better. Parents try to impose their aspirations on their children...but the child has something else in mind...all five fingers are not equal.. let's learn to accept them the way they are...a person good for nothing, excelling in nothing does have a right to be happy..should not be condemned...
Shanath May 2017
From your neck
Crawling its way up to your head,
Like a river cutting across soft land
The pain follows upto your brow .
You squint your eyes
And shake your head,
The pain taps your mind.
This is the pain from hopelessness
There is no escape, feel it,
Embrace it.
Pray that it busts your head open
And your brain splashes across your bed.
Pray that you evaporate
That you disappear,
Leave back a stain
For that is what your life has been.

You lay on your back
Silence broken by the blood
Running around in your otherwise limp body,
And you hear a screech, a whisper
A mocking?
You turn your empty
But strangely heavy head,
You see the creature
whose children you killed that evening.
You had hunched over the broken egg,
Its insides now spilled outside,
And the other one still lay across.
You had nothing to do,
You wiped the goop that could be life
With a torn bit of paper ,
Haphazardly poured water
And wiped again.
Who would say
The floor had seen death today.
The other egg you rolled to the side,
You knew the creature would cry tonight.
You went about with your life.

The creature is swelled up again,
You noticed
Life would get a chance again,
That is how it works you wonder,
But she must be furious
You see her staring at you.
You are sorry you say.
That's all you had to say
Until today.

Today you are thinking of striking a deal with her
Today you will ask her
To spill your head open
The way you had spilled her egg.
You will ask her to give you peace,
To give you your awaited escape
And in return she can have her justice.
Tell her you can be killed,
All she has to do is drop you
From a height
The way you had dropped her egg
From her home, your rolled mattress.
The only difference you had no intention
Of taking away someone else's life
But your own.
So today ask her to correct your mistake.

My blood will be wiped
My stain will be removed
Someone else will take my place.
Rollercoaster Jan 2021
I have been to the mountains where I have cried.
I climb hills not for the vista.
I climb for falling down the rabbit hole.
Then, I plummet down the icy gully.

I have drowned in bathtubs where I have smiled.
I swim in cold bathtubs not due to recklessness.
I swim to delude my presence.
Then, I hitch-hike upto the peak.

I do these things I cannot understand.
Reality slips away,
like fresh snow and water slip from my bare hands.
I climb to the mountain and fall to the bathtub.
Akash mazumdar Nov 2014
I never represented my self as truth,
in any one's front but i do,
i open myself in front of you,
if i am hurted please try to understand,
why i am presenting me like that;
why i want your hand,
to hold my hands and my chin,
to put it front of your face,
am broken please make it trace,
on your eyes and see what i sufferd and what i am suffering,
these are not things these are feelings,
it alters and at the peak when it must be not,
to go upto the extent of beyond the thought,
numbness it's not i created,
i fought with situations and they not demonstrared,
that i am lieying in my aches,
am trying to stand up see it and believe it with truth and upcoming changes, if you have any query want any change,
just speak once i'll make upto my ability base,
nothing is dull against the beats,
but keep it in your mind that it bleads,
when the beats are not understood,
behind every reason there is a story that you should,
and must know
being my love just never let me go
poetrylover17 Dec 2014
One day we will recover
And time will erase time
One day u will discover
One day you'll shine
You'll learn to trust the world again
you'll learn to let go
Dance freely in the rain
hope for A non-boring tomorrow.

Let the past go finger by finger,
You'll make it hurt, but alive.
The memories wont hurt when u remember.
You'll learn to live rather than survive.

Its upto u to make the change,
Because people will come n people will go.
Nothin will ever remain the same
Dwelling in the past will hurt u more.

In the end nothing will matter,
Except for the memories u share.
Because people u Love may leave,
but wen u need them they will Somehow be there.

You'll learn to be urslf again
Smile a lil more.
life is free, do as u please.
Adventure is waitin at ur door.

you'll realize u dont need the wands or magic
For The sparkle , the fairy dust is already there.
Life in ur hands is a journey,a voyage,
Let go of the past n sail without a care.

You're the captain of the ship,
the vast sea is all yours.
Take a chance n taste different fishes,
fear not,the past,the future will never be lost.

You'll see when u open your heart n let all the memories flow,
You'll realize,your THE captain jack ayesha-o.
U can make life as crazy as u can,
these memories will One day make u glow.
You'll Stop searching for the same safe land.
One day you'll realize all u needed was a new telescope.

Where ever u may set sail to.
no matter what changes or happens
remember,ur crew will b right beside u.
Their voices forever ringing
"aye aye captain"
Dedicated to my sister, Aisha.
Bohemian Feb 2019
If a needle was to be put in my capillaries to forget you
I'd been a walking void.
If each time I thought about you could grow my hair by an inch,
I'd been the Tangle you read about.
If changing wrappers of my skin had not worked,
Could change my skin and bones.
If you were on the moon
I could study turning all upside down to be an astronaut.
Had my heart not recited your name,
My sleeves hadn't been upto this stretch.
If I could have a job of making you happy,
You would been immortal by now
If I were the Leonardo,
I had painted you smiling
Till eternity.
That went unseen ,yet prepared for your birthday ;just as silly as it sounds.
Shay-za-di Mar 2014
you hope you dream,
of life without pain,
you stop yourself and not feel,
running from reality in vain.

monsters are monsters,
they will never change,
they are evil and bullies,
your mind they will always change.

they will make you doubt,
they will make you cry,
they will make you forget why you fought,
their lies; they will make you buy.

the world will always be cruel,
like you say its upto you,
say no, i never will,
stand up, never forget, like you say its upto you.
hs again
Ceida Uilyc Dec 2014
I have worn a ring
Ever since I remember the first.

I woke upto a lit’le golden shine
On my li’lest finger.

I grew into a walkable,
And it got tighter.

Then they removed it
and gave me a diamond studded one on my 8th birthday.

I wore it on my index.

I grew into my teens
And it got tighter.

Then I got outta teens.
And it got tighter all the same.

Then a brown haired chap took pity on me
And proposed me.

With a ring.

A silver one.

I wore it on my ring finger.
Then it saw me for a long time.

And it got tighter.

And I separated direction from
The brown haired chap.

So, I dropped the ring

And whoosh it flew into the tracks
with the faintest bounce.

Then, I was a woman.

The ringless finger ached my periphery.
I thought of my diamond ring .
And I sold it next morning at the Jewellers.

I got a Platinum ring, after a lotta confused psychology to take the decision.
I felt a pauper signboard afar.

I wore it on my *******.

And, I smoked a cigarette
And I drank ***.
With the platinum shining on my *******.

Then I took pity on a black eyed fellow
And slept with him in a drunken state.

Morning I woke up with my bright sneer  dimming down.

My ring was gone.

The black eyed chap stole it.

My platinum ring.

I never wore a ring
Ever again.

I smoke the cigarette
And I drink the ***
With none a ring.

I will, Will to be buried without
Any of the Same.
#humour
Susan O'Reilly May 2013
My particular ride

take it in my stride

Fate has orchestrated my path

her decisions, my aftermath

She’s given me ups and downs

some tears and some frowns

She has showered me with joy

bad news actually a clever ploy

She’s a delicious minx

sometimes evil methinks

Must remember she’s just a guide

easy to blame her I’ve tried

She gave me a rough draft

Upto me to hone my craft

Life is made of many lessons

Even bad days have blessings

She supplied me with the gear

upto me what route I steer

So thank you fate

today I’m doing great
Why do i always have to be told
Though indirectly,
but told,
so ******* sarcastically,
with those irritating grins and giggles
'' you know what? you should take part in the beauty contest "

When all i know is that
they have a good reason to
make me feel so on cloud nine for a minute
and down crashing on the ground
with a thud,when i sooner or later
will realise,
no, I've got scars, I've got marks, I've got bruises,
I've got frizzy hair,I've got a skinny bodytype
I've got ordinary clothes, I've got no good pair of heals,like you do.
I dont have the talents to put
makeup on..
duh.


You know it all too well.
i know it,too.
Still,you wanto say it on my face,so that it hits me harder
the time I see myself in the mirror wearing clothes
i feel will make me look alright,just alright.
and then i enter the classroom
seeing all of you guys to be staring at me,
saying,''pooh,you look awesome''
I know why,i know it.

And then as more chicks start to enter,
All I'd want would be to tear my outfit from the middle
throw it away,
rub off that kohl I tried to roughly apply
to kinda accentuate my tiny Asian eyes.


Because all of you guys
look so **** perfect.
so gorgeous.
so rich.
so what we say CLASSY
so IT.

When'll I be enough?
am i always gonna wear those nerdy glasses,
slick back my bangs from my forehead
that hides my scars ..
wear the oversized, boring sweaters,
and pants and shoes,and with books by my side .
Am i never going to be like y'all?

that others want to be like.
who look upto them.

when someone'll be like, ''i wanna be like her"
Can i never be that 'her' ?
can i never get a compliment?
Can i never hold the crown?
or that sachet ?
or the flowers?
or the teddies?
or the hamper?

NO?

i must rather abide with my
unlucky,
hopeless,
shady,
dusky, good-for-nothing
weird life?

Can i never make something out of it,
with my appearance appreciated?
even from people who matter,
from people who live with me
under the same roof?
can ,for once and for all,
i be made feel
enough............
?
tis my school's last beauty contest tomorrow,last as in,before i graduate school.and the day brought me more pain and self realisation that i could not win a show ,ever,b'*** i'm just not like them.how am i now supposed to feel? absolutely worthless.its now engraved,i doubt,in me
tranquil Dec 2014
Night is wise. From its silences sprout echoes in which restless musings find home. Where answers are found to problems shoved under the rug by the day's narcissistic hands. And inside which the world elopes through a starry tunnel of twirling memories, like autumn leaves kiss yellow forest beds – one by one.

He leaned against the rail, reading memoirs of sea like a devoted disciple of a December night, preserving the crash of clueless waves against helpless rocks in his mind. Rose fragrances trapped in chilly sea breeze tugged at a past, writhing in his head like sepia memories uncomfortably familiar. Nature, he thought, is a time capsule. When it speaks through the rustling of cedar branches, in the quietness filling violet landscape, reflected in shallow pools or through the spectacle of an awaited meteor shower, time stands still for a moment, the might of which would put eternity to shame.

Curious how sea waves would try to race against swift clouds, he wondered, only to be pulled back to their core by the unrelenting sea. Why is it that...

“What are you doing here all alone”, a voice shook him out of the trance. The man's ship of thoughts returned to a more human reality. He did not turn around to meet the eyes of this familiar girl.

“Music changed. Couldn't keep up with the rhythm.”

She walked upto the steps leading to rail on the balcony overlooking a tumbling cobalt Mediterranean. Proximity to her fragrance ate up into the refurbished armour of solitude he had cocooned himself in. Alas, nature unfolded itself in a feminine form when symphonies of all phenomenon reached a crescendo.

“It's chilly here. You should get inside.”

“No. I'm warm from the dance”, she replied leaning on the cold rail and grabbed it in her hands like a rudder-steer.

With eyes closed, girl turned her face upto the sky; a smile appeared on her small lips as moistness of a majestic sea breeze filled her senses. Underneath the stars, her skin glistened under reckless moonbeams accentuating each curve of her petite frame. He turned his audacious gaze to the girl, splendidly dressed in a maroon ball-room gown, beholding the sight of her visage as if etching it in memory. Painting her rose fragrance on shadow fountains this sparsely clouded sky makes on her gleaming skin, with whirls losing their way in maze of her hair, her sweetest breath swallowing his soul with blossoms of madness, he wished to keep it frozen in the cardiac cage for posterity. Perhaps it was smoke all around or everything else turned to static background noise, except her. She was gravity.

“He dances well. You both do I mean”, he said facing the sea again. He could bear this sight more easily.

“Doesn't the moon look beautiful tonight?”, the girl breathed in dreamily.

“And like all beautiful ladies, she must not be left unescorted”, replied the man .

She looked at him, trying to underline traces of emotion on his poker face. “Why're you so...”

“Not so much as you.”

Looking at her in eye for the first time, he added, “They'll announce dinner soon. I'll join in five”.

“Alright”, was her reply followed by a laboured smile as she walked back towards the grand ballroom. As the girl was about to reach the glass door, something halted her in the step and she turned around. An old memory.

“Hey, if you see a falling star, can you make a wish for me?”

Her demand was met with the slightest of nods before the man found himself lost again.

Maybe eons passed that night, after sound of her steps faded away into hums of soft music. Or maybe it felt so. But, he did not let a bead of moisture escape his eye once it begged to fall out. It did not deserve to be wished upon.
Ball-room. First attempt at a short story.

— The End —