Sam Rapth

Stitching a Sentence

by Sam Rapth

Stitching a sentence

is not as easy as

stitching a cloth. . . .

Minor defect in the design

may lead to a

new fashion. . . .

It only takes

precise design

to lead to a

new world. . . .

I Was Late

by Sam Rapth

Looking at the

glowing ball of fire

between the mountains

at the horizon

I said the sun is Yellow. . . .

You winked at me saying

If there is a color

for our love,

then its Yellow. . . .

As I tried to catch

fading memories on

theories about late sunlight,

I began to wonder

which part in our love

I was late. . . .

Parting

by Sam Rapth

I deleted the gmail id,

the user id and password of which

only we know. . . .

I changed my mobile number

Without informing you. . . .

I threw away the gowns

That you have gifted me. . . .

I shifted my home

Without informing you. . . .

I went to a used book shop

to buy a book on

number theory

to delete your number

from my brains. . . .

The shopkeeper gave

me a book

which had your name mentioned

on its first page. . . .

Celebrity and Simplicity

by Sam Rapth

In the wide space,

those rocks

that are seen by naked simple eyes

are called stars . . .

Much like the celebrities. . . .

The question is

why, so simple, are the eyes? . . .

Next Move

by Sam Rapth

Somehow,

I was lost

in a huge forest. . . .

The paths

that would take me out,

were scattered

in the forest. . . .

To my eyes,

all of them resembled

the one,

which

bear my footprints,

I once left on. . . .

Finally,

I closed my eyes

to unlearn all I learnt,

and let my legs walk on their own. . . .

I felt my foot

On my own footprints. . . .

An Encounter

by Sam Rapth

I landed

at Atlanta. . . .

The night was falling. . . .

A taxi swallowed me

and excreted at the motel. . . .

When I was on my way

to my room,

in the snake-like corridor,

a lady popped out

from another room. . . .

“Need company for the night?” she said.

She was tall. . . .

had nice balls . . .

sounded much like a booty . . .

She made me stiff

beneath my pants instantly. . . .

I can't believe,

I said “my rate is 500 dollars for a night. . . .”

Somebody Flirt With Me, Please

by Sam Rapth

I was stammered at

those emails of yours

addressed to some other guy. . . .

Those emails certified

your capability in

flirting with other men

on the computer

with those delicate fingers of yours

one of which wore our marriage ring. . . .

The very fact that,

We jointly own our bank account,

We jointly own our home loan,

We jointly own our car loan

makes me crave for a girl

with whom,

I can also flirt. . . .

Sam Rapth works in the IT industry and hails from South India. He has written novels in his native language and his works are forthcoming/have already appeared in The Tongue (UK), Static Movement (UK), The Inclement Poetry Magazine (UK), The Taj Mahal Review (India), Yellow Mama (US), The International Who's Who (US), The Recusant (UK), The Poetry Pacific, The Ascent Aspirations (US), and The Mad Swirl (US).