Cascade of poems and Rivulets of fiction

Charlie Chaplin I sit in oblivion, Under the foliage of Banyan. Staring at nothingness, Empty tumbler is my heart, Devoid of tears for so long, Dried are the eyelashes, Ready to be burnt, Lub dub lub dub, The sound so pronounced, 'You are alive not yet dead'. Inward I look to find, A hat on a stick on two big feet, Tapping with ease, Comedy transpires , 'Hey! Say cheese'! Eyes popped in amazement, The stick twirled and the hat bounced, 'Hey! Say cheese'! Laughter is nowhere near me, Pain has enslaved me, I gaze and gaze, ' A day without laughter is a day wasted,' Let laughter be the dictator, 'Nothing is permanent in this wicked world not even our tears', Let troubles die with tears of strength, Rise and rise, Thunder rolls, Rain splashes on me, Ringing inside me, 'To truly laugh, you must be able to take your pain and play with it'. I laughed and cried, I laughed and cried, Never so hard

Rocky terrain of high mountains, The snow capped mountains ignite, The wanderlust in me; To break away from the drudgery of life, From the petty human loss, A caricature of intelligent race, Victim of different definitions of the God, Blind to the color of blood, Brewing cauldrons of hatred and violence; Wanderlust, turned the pages, From nowhere empathy emerged, A Muslim and a Hindu bonded, The Muslim sheltered the Hindu old, Discarded by her own, A sacred lamp lit beside the Koran; Definitions end, differences forgotten; Humanity evolves and life begins.

Scar from the left cheek down to the chin, A deep gash leaving behind puckered skin, The mirror, exquisitely designed, is shocked! Staring at her distortion, Making her cringe with self deprecation, Mockery trespass her every moment of peace, Denigrating her to lead a forlorn life, Without love cuddling her in its arms. The thought made her believe, Never she would walk the aisle,  In her father's arms dressed in white, Her daydream is a bouquet of white lilies , in her hands; c rumble in a sudden twist,   And the mirror laughs at her foolish tryst. Her wish to dream never subsides, Imploring her to dress in white, A chance to dance secured in muscular arms,   C upid struck; ushering spring of love, The grip never loosens, Somewhere the notes from the flute float through the air, An aura of happiness behold,    Her scar is smothered with kisses, The mirror is shocked! How could it be so foolish! A mere scar could trick destiny! Defeated, yet del