Her confined feathers fluttered inside the cage, with squeals of agony coming from within, longing for freedom. The captor wrote poems about her shrieks, allured by Nature’s beauty.
Tag: captive
The Caged Bird
I had flown under the lintel to avoid the storm’s carnage,
Little did I know, I’d find you there locked in a cage.
“You’re a Robin like me!”, I exclaimed , “We aren’t meant to be confined!”
She gave an discontented smile and replied, “Believe me, I am fine.”
“I am my master’s favourite prize, he boasts of me to guests,
He brings me food whenever I ring this bell, I must be truly blessed.
He saves me by eating the toxic fruits and feeds me the delicious seeds,
He loves me so much that he gets enraged if someone else touches me.”
Joke’s on you
He always spoke the truth, no matter the consequences,
He hit you hard with facts, you took too many offenses.
You buried him down with haste, to eradicate his mirth,
But the joke’s on you, he was born down to earth.
She had been going places, society’d failed to shackle her down.
“A girl her age out of home? She must be stopped somehow!”
You pushed her off the cliff, your ears longing for her cries,
But the joke’s on you, she was born with wings to fly.
You detest happy young faces, their beams hurt your features gaunt,
You chain down one hand with responsibilities, other one with daunts.
The joke’s on you, my friend, you’ve again failed to foresee,
My soul might be your prisoner, but my mind’s always been free.
The Jar
“One order fulfilled, one turn of the lid”
I will never forget this phrase, or its variations, for the rest of my short life.
I still remember the day when I opened my eyes and saw that ugly opaque lid above me, the lid of the jar in which I was kept. Looking around, I found that my jar had only four things inside. A bed, a cupboard, me and my thoughts. The last thing was the dearest to me. In my thoughts I could see myself flying above the hills with the birds, occasionally coming down to eat fruits from the trees and drink from the river. In my thoughts I was not a captive of the jar.
Fortunately the walls were transparent, so I gazed outside. There were others, similar to me, but different in every way. All of them dressed the same. Neither did they talk to each other, nor did they seem to think. Those robots seemed to roam around lifelessly in specific paths at specific times.
At first I was least bothered about my situation. The cupboard gave me almost everything I could ever ask for. Books. Pictures. Food. Fancy clothes. But not people. Not freedom. Soon, I longed for someone to talk to me. I longed to see the bright blue sky for once. So one day, I went towards the nearby wall and called out. Continue reading “The Jar”
The Living Writes 