Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 27, 2026

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"...like black and white stills of some movie..."

Home

They all loved me
Then…
They all left me
Then…

They gave me memories
That roll through my
Brains like black and white
Stills of some movie
Of the yore…

Then…

My memories have
No bodies
No veins
And no blood
Running through those

Only bricks made of
VOID

My memories
My madness

The bricks had never been…
The home was never built…
Only…

I existed in the void
Always…

But a brick has sworn
To return
With blood running
Through its veins
And heart throbbing

I will build
A palace
I swear
A palace
With that one brick

Somewhere
Deep
Inside
Me!




{First published in Indian Literature, a Sahitya Akademi (under the aegis of Govt. of India) journal}


More by Pranab Ghosh → More poetry → Full issue →
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