Abhra > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

It has been a while since you do not hear my voice. A voice fed by hunger. The heart ache of Palestine. When I speak, you only hear the deep a..

As I write today I am reminded of a phrase "flowers from a book" which invokes images in my mind, familiar and unknown, like one cre..

Where the wild things were once hidden, somewhere between a then and forgetting. I still have the names and the count of sands on my feet. The sm..

There are no openings to heartaches except that you may find stains of blood and pieces of torn flesh and skin, Hereabouts. In some unseen ter..

It came to be a Monday its arms sooted with the dread of precipices a harbor of nook and corners bolted against the mouth of a meager life silent a..

Abhra Writing