when the Sun shines through the morning clouds

I swipe my forehead off

all the nightmares of the night

with my hands folded

I stretch my core open in prayer

seek alms from the hours of sluggish turmoil

my bed  made of fur

enables me to keep awake through those dreaming hours

to write tale after tale

of poetic justice done to my sunlit days


when it rains in my town

it gets drenched till the wee hours

the town opens eyes to washed greens

drying in shades of opulent rainbows

cars purr at breakneck throttles

reaching nowhere through those jams

that I prefer to call marmlades

and the mornings share their toasted bread

with jugs of split orange juice.

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Pritpal Kaur
Pritpal Kaur
A television journalist turned writer I have been writing short stories and poetry for almost twenty five years. Masters in Physics and Education, turned to Television journalism and gradually shifted to full time writing. Taught physics for a year at University of agriculture. Meanwhile worked for All India Radio as announcer. Reported for “Parakh” and later worked with NDTV. Got into professional writing somewhere along the line. Have also produced documentaries for television and radio.