Somedays (how it is)-

Somedays (how it is)-

Some days, I feel like a foetus in the womb. With no care in the world. Peace abound, peace within.

Somedays, I feel like thunder is rumbling within me and and a fire is yearning to be let out.

Mama says- that is life. Somedays, it is; somedays it isn’t. 

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First of all-

First of all-

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I am not your personal poet;
Churning words at your whims,
Do you approve?
A few more here,
A little less there;
Pouring your emotions,
From the tip of my pen.

I am not your personal therapist;
Listening to your woes at your
Convenience,
A sponge to absorb your torments,
And a seal to my comments,
Because You and You is all
That should come first.

I am not your doll to be used,
Or better yet abused
At your beck and call;
My legs aren’t yours to move,
At the beat of your drum;
Right-left-forward- now back

But I do write your poems,
And I do listen to your woes,
I’ll move the ground and skies for you,
You don’t even have to ask.
I don’t do it for your status,
Your might or your “prowess”,
I do it because i’m made that way,
To give and bleed unreciprocated.

I do it because,
my heart’s wired to give,
Even if yours isn’t.

 

 

Flash Fiction: Life at 8

Flash Fiction: Life at 8

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Uncle Shankar was Ma’s older brother but I often wondered if maybe one of them was adopted. They couldn’t possibly be genetically related. Uncle was as jovial as Ma was prim, he smiled as often as Ma frowned, he was slender in build while Ma was, well, thick.

We moved in with him and grandma after Dad passed away. I was eight. Every morning, when I went out to go to school, I’d find Uncle on his chair outside beside the flowers. His face would light up when he saw me; it appeared as if the sun shone out of it.

Good morning old lady“, he’d greet me and set me a pun question which, if I answered correctly, would earn me a chocolate. I rarely got that chocolate.

But I was eight and life, couldn’t have been better.


word count: 138. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring writers photo promot challenge hosted by priceless joy. Thank you very much for this week’s photo  @shivamt25

Blogger Q and A

Blogger Q and A

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The lovely blogger at Accidentally inked nominated me for an award. I honestly don’t do them anymore, but I loved the questions she put forth. And anyway its been a long time since I did one of these so I thought, I’ll give a shot.

What’s the best thing you like about your blog?

Ohhh lets see. I actually love everything. The fiction because I never thought I could actually do one of those “flash fictions” and now, I look forward to writing them; certainly pushed me out of my comfort zone.
The poetry because writing them have been such comfort and therapy at the same time. And the writer’s quote/poem because it gives me the opportunity to share with all of you, the reason why I fell in love with poetry.

What do you tell yourself to convince yourself so that you stay positive when something bad happens?

Honestly- I try to remember that everything happens for a reason and things could have been worse.

Do you like books? If yes, what did you last read?

I Love books, but then again I am a picky reader. I tend to stick to the same kind of genres. Don’t judge me, I’ve branched out but I just don’t enjoy them and i’ld rather not read what I don’t enjoy.
I’m currently reading a book by David Baldacci- The escape. It is the 3rd book in a John Puller series.

Do you think it’s okay to be scared of cats?

Hahaha, I am one of them. Of course its not okay to be scared of cats but thats why they are called “phobias”. They are irrational fears after all. 

What do you say, lets get to know one another? I am throwing these questions to anyone/everyone who reads this:
1) Coffee or Tea
2) summer or winter
3) Vanilla or chocolate
4) crime novel or Romance novel
5) Documentary or movie

You can answer in the comments below or in a new post. Lets do this 👊🏽

 

Sigh-

Sigh-

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Every sigh,
Escaping
From the lids of our lips;
Bear a story,
A memory,
we deny the opportunity,
Of the permanence
Of words.

It floats,
Into the universe,
Uniting with its brothers-
Other sighs,
Other memories,
Escaping from other’s prisons.

Do you feel it,
When the wind brushes,
Across your face,
On a summer day;
Do you hear its whispers
At nighttime?
A message,
A reminder.

Every sigh-
Escaping,
holds within itself,
A story untold.

The above image is courtesy of Pinterest.com

Writer’s Quote: Kindness

Writer’s Quote: Kindness

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I found this incredible quote above by Nikita Gill and I thought I had to share it. We are not always kind to ourselves. We could be the cherry on top of every other person’s cake but when it comes us- to being kind to ourselves, forgiving ourselves, we are our own worst enemies.

The poem I’m sharing today as part of Writer’s quote/poem Wednesday, is written by undoubtably one of the greatest poet ever- Maya Angelou. It talks about forgiveness. And according one analysis by Prezi.com, the poem is all about a mother, acknowledging forgiveness with open arms.

This poem talks about a daughter returning home after committing (who knows what) atrocity, and amidst the blackness of the night, finds the forgiving and comforting arms of her mother, open, blameless and ready to receive her.

The Mothering Blackness by Maya Angelou

She came home running
back to the mothering blackness
deep in the smothering blackness
white tears icicle gold plains of her face
She came home running

She came down creeping
here to the black arms waiting
now to the warm heart waiting
rime of alien dreams befrosts her rich brown face
She came down creeping

She came home blameless
black yet as Hagar’s daughter
tall as was Sheba’s daughter
threats of northern winds die on the desert’s face
She came home blameless.

 

I said a prayer-

I said a prayer-

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I said a prayer today,
And it went something like this-
Dear Lord,
(With my head on the ground),
Please grant me empathy.

I said a prayer today
I never thought I would say,
Not the praying part of course,
Just that prayer in particular;
For- cynicism and hatred,
Were not in my nature,
(I thought),
But then I grew up and

said a prayer today,
For the world is changing,
And the world has changed me,
And the dreamer within
Is dying-
Like the trees, the earth, the sea
And its beings.
Dear Lord grant me empathy
For cynicism is overtaking.

I said a prayer today,
For the world is bleeding
And I am bleeding with it.

Of despair & hope-

Of despair & hope-

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Depression,
is a friend to despair,
trudging along the same path;
when one comes,
so does the other.
As is said in the kid’s rhyme-
Birds of the same feathers,
They flock together.
They could have just said-
Depression and despair.

Depression,
has got an enemy in hope.
The different ends
of a magnetic pole.
When one draws to an edge,
The other pulls to another.
Depression and hope,
Do not last together.
When one stays,
the other has got to go.
(Depression has got to go)

Depression,
Brings along its friend-
Despair.
Hope is its own force,
Sufficient against them.

The above image is courtesy of Thehealthyplace.com

 

Flash Fiction: Superstitions

Flash Fiction: Superstitions

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The sun shone through lace draped curtains, announcing the arrival of dawn. I instinctively turned my face away from it. A few more minutes of sleep shouldnt hurt, but my alarm had other plans. Almost on cue, It started ringing. I turned again, groaned and decided today would not be the day for extra sleep.

It was only as I sat upright on the bed that I noticed it. My hands were flexed at a 45 degree and my fingers were each positioned at an odd angle. I tried to extend my hand but felt a dull aching pain in reaction. They also appeared swollen.

The irrational part of me took over and i started thinking- the village witches have finally gotten to me; I should have prayed before going to bed last night. I worked myself into a nervous sweat, before the rational part of me kicked in to remind me- there was a reason doctors existed. Some parts of culture just never leave us, I sigh.


word count: 167. This story is in resoponse to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge. Thank you for this week’s image @artycaptures

My words-

My words-

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I write for the days when the beating heart within my chest feels ripped apart. For the days when my readily accessible tears fail me (it wouldnt be the first thing to fail me).

I write for the days when my mind spins tales on purpose which perpetuate me as the villain- it is my mind but i have no control over it.

I write for the days when rejection and heartbreak; betrayal and sadness all morph into one and spring on me at once.

I write to remind myself, I am not alone. I have my words, I have my Lord. I have been failed before and I rose and wrote words.

So I write these words and save them, for the rainy day that I would need them.