Wordplay: The Reading Spot

"The greatest victory is that which requires no battle." - Sun Tzu This part of the forest is Much too quiet tonight To the majestic old noctuid, though, clinging on to life, It's no new sight. It rests near a pinecone, on a tall tree branch As usual, and waits for its Instincts to drive it to Claim morsels that may fit. Below its branch,  Moonlight glinting in its eyes, A young wild rat emerges from the bushes and Out of hunger, sighs. The pinecone quickly senses  Something off, however, And truly so, because it sees, staring back, A pair of red eyes quiver. The wild rat makes its way over A carelessly thrown matchbox  In dry litter, and slowly and steadily Up the tree, to the scared pinecone it walks. He triumphantly places his grown nails on The ill fated pinecone, but just over it He sees that, quite to his pleasure A little beyond him, an old moth patiently sits. Greed manifests  As he drools onto his paws, And he decides to spare the pinecone; He gently lets it...

"A wounded animal will bite and claw." -Mimi Matthews I'm running as fast as I can. All I know about where I'm headed is that it's far from here; far away from that house. Far from those four walls of suffocating hell, far from those dreadful needles and the shimmering acids that followed... And certainly far from him. It's easy to lose track of time when you're kept in a square cell, far into the woods, cut off from the rest of the townsfolk and the diurnal village affairs. I wondered if my friend Polly was looking for me, determined to set me free. She probably was, given that I'd do the same for her. My freedom, or what minuscule tinge was left of it, never exceeded the dining hall of that house. He'd kept me locked in that room, with a bucket, a pale excuse of a mattress, a lantern and not a window in sight. It was easy to forget humans even existed, until he would occasionally break in with bland and tasteless meals. He spoke harshly and coldl...

"The trouble is that you think you have time." - Jack Kornfield It was at the age of three that Thomas Gray first said the word "happy". A few months later, he discovered what the word meant. But he was six when he first discovered what "joy" meant; the sun shining brightly in the sky, snowballs flying in his direction, a warm smile plastered across his face. He remembers vividly, to this day, how his mother taught him to make snow angels, and how his father helped him onto his feet, every time he fell into the snow. He didn't remember much else, but he knew that joy was that warm giddiness that he felt in his tummy, that stayed unfazed in spite of the cold winter winds.  He felt happy an ample amount of times after that winter, but he never really felt joy. Thomas Gray was not always a man buried under a pile of work. In his young years, he was full of dreams and aspirations, and even the sky wasn't the limit. He had a list of things he wanted to ...

S.O.S. *** Claire is seated outside the manager's room, flipping through the pages of 'The Daily Affairs'. She's already read the day's edition, but having nothing particularly better to do, she decided to give it a re-read. She's not much of a 'politics' enthusiast, nor is she into 'sports'. The national and international affairs are the only sections that catch her eye. Now, the newspaper isn't a 'happy' read, so Claire wasn't expecting it to be all rainbows or sunshine. Still, she felt the shivers caress her as she read the increasing number of med. student suicides; most of them occuring due to research failures. She has always considered herself to be among the lucky ones, since she, once upon a time, wished to enter the research field herself. Luckily, just one month into it, she'd decided it was too much, and too unbalanced, for her liking. Thus, each new 'research failure' added more fear into her mind, because...

"Never question the relevance of truth, but always question the truth of relevance." - Craig Bruce *** Disclaimer - What you're about to read consists of mainly my opinion, and I urge you to not assume that this is the absolute truth. This is just my take on the subject, and you are advised to give it a read, and then a thought. An unbiased, open-minded thought. So, don't blindly believe in the contents of this post, and don't outrightly dismiss them either. *** Have you ever asked yourself, "What would happen to the world if I died right this second?" For starters, your family would be devastated, and overcome with grief. Then your friends, boss, colleagues, neighbours, regular passers-by, relatives, etc. would all become aware of your absence, and your life would be concluded with a short send-off, also known as a funeral. While the immediate impact of your passing on loved ones is undeniable, let's delve deeper into a more profound inquiry: ...

"I made you something special..." Woken by the Feast day sun Its scorching warmth of joy Matches our happy beaks As we move towards the field. Master has set a lovely banquet Studded with seeds and delicious "pests" We don't know how to thank Master, but We rush to relish, instead. In between gorging sessions I glance at the younglings And my friends  And smile at their smiles "How delicious!", ones' said "A feast for sure!", said another's A few hours hence, Master joins us and Adds to the shine with a staff that glitters; Its gleaming silver matches The harvested rain. I'd stare at it longer, but Master ushers us out Into his chariot's carts  We barely fit, but Master  Isn't frowning, so we don't complain. An hour later Master stops the chariot And leads us into smaller carts On a moving belt. It's been a fun ride so far But Master wishes to make it better! We oblige and settle into the carts Which begin moving; ...

"Teaching kids to count is fine, but teaching them what counts is best." - Bob Talbert Dear readers, it's going to end with parrots. You may not understand what that means just yet, but believe it or not, it will truly end with parrots.  It started with neanderthals. By nature's beautiful miracle, they evolved. Then we made wheels, discovered fire, built civilisations....basically, reached where we are today. But, how? How did a progressive species such as the homo sapiens reach a point where they will most likely end with parrots...how is that even possible? This article is inspired by the conversations I had with my teacher and a close relative. And no, these weren't some brilliant, highly motivational discussions...they were horrifying, and absolutely the stuff of nightmares. Nightmares, that end with parrots.  Don't rule this out as some random student rant...that'll only further cement the nightmares that these discussions made me foresee. Alright, I...