The Pokemon Go book tag 

The Pokemon Go book tag 


Yesterday, I came across a fun Pokemon Go book tag on TheJouskaBlog which was originally created by Read at midnight and thought I’d try it out too. So Here goes:

 

Hands down, To kill a mockingbird by Harper Lee. I’ve read this book multiple times and with every read, I fall more in love with the story and the characters as well.


Six seconds by Rick Mofina. This is the first Rick Mofina book I could not finish reading. 


No book comes to mind at the moment, who knows, maybe I’ll remember later .


This one is easy- All the lights we cannot see by Anthony Doer. It’s been sitting on my shelf for over a year now. 


There are quite a few actually. But one of my favourite is Three by Ted Dekker. If you are looking for a psychological thriller, then I recommend this book. You won’t be disappointed. 


So, I had to google “OTP” to find out its meaning. Apparently, it means “one true pairing”. I don’t believ I have one. 


Ohhhh Seige by Simon Kernick. This book is on fire!


Enid Blyton’s Malory Towers and st Clare’s . Also, Regan Reilly Mysteries by Carol Higgins Clark 


Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Even though this book was published in 1818, I only read it a few months ago. Needless to say, I Absolutely loved it and would not mind reading it all over again.


That would be none.


Malory towers and st Clare’s by Enid Blyton.


Well, not forever, but I am excited for the realease of the 3rd book in David Baldacci’s Amos Decker series. The first two are- The Last mile and Memory Man and they were simply awesome.


Mary Higgins Clark, I don’t believe any of her books disappoint and also, Simon Kernick.

On a side note, I don’t really have an idea as to what this Pokemon Go game is about?! (Tell me I’m not the only one living under a rock). And, That’s it, my book tag answers. Take up the questions if you’d love to, I’ll be looking forward to reading your answers.

I am my mother’s daughter

I am my mother’s daughter

 

Raised with the fire,
Of a self learned woman;
Cradled under the shade,
Of bamboo trees;
Laid on an arched back,
Whilst toiling clay lands;
Don’t mind, when I declare-
I am my mother’s daughter.

Waved off to school,
With hands- worn from milking,
Fed whilst her stomach,
Growled of hunger;
Appeased with a smile stamped,
On a face darkened from wood’s soot;
Don’t mind, when I declare,
I am my mother’s daughter.

Raised her girls to be queens,
In a land ruled by men;
Bore the brute of words,
For demanding education;
Believed- in their strength while
The world tried to break them;
Don’t mind, when I declare,
I am my mother’s daughter.

The beautiful painting above is the artwork of Claudia Tremblay

Writer’s Quote: On Defeats & Victories

Writer’s Quote: On Defeats & Victories

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The theme for this week’s writers quote Wednesday writing challenge is “strength” and for it, I chose to share a quote by a poet whose works I admire, enjoy and gain inspiration from- Charles Bukowski. Below, is a poem I wrote inspired by the quote.

It’s like this-
Some nights,
All you can do is
Curl up under sheets
With a burning lump
Stuck in your throat
Of all the things
You shoulda said-
But didn’t.

Your cheeks
Stained with droplets
And the darkness
Offering little comfort,
Wallowing
in self pity- you are,
At the what ifs,
And the could have beens.

These are the days,
we focus on our defeats.

But the sun,
It’ll rise again as it does,
And golden rays,
Will stream at the break of dawn.
And just as the darkness
Departs
I hope you keep last night
Where it belongs-
the past;
You may wallow at times,
At your defeat
But do remember- defeats
Are what make up victories.

My kind of sadness-

My kind of sadness-

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There’s a sadness,
      Which begins-
           In the quiet of dark;

There’s a sadness,
      Which peaks when-
            there’s noise abound;

There’s a sadness,
       From which sleep-
             Is a sought for solace;

There’s a sadness,
       Which grips me
              -wide awake.

Then there’s the sadness,
        From which my –
                 poetry originates.

It’s that sadness,
        I cling to-
               During life’s turbulences.

When I viewed my “serched terms” recently, I discovered that someone searched for “sadness”. So, here goes.

the above image is courtesy of Me2go.tumblr

Flash Fiction: The new tenants

Flash Fiction: The new tenants

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“Don’t!”, Ibrahim’s voice resonated in the silence.
“Why can’t I follow that lane?”, Sana protested. Ibrahim lingered a moment too long in indecision and his sister, Sana, turned towards the opposite street when her hand was jerked backwards.

“Rumour has it, the new tenants of funky munky are cultists“, Ibrahim conceded. Then added, “you know, blood drinkers”.
“I know what cultists are”, Sana retorted, rubbing her wrist where he’d grabbed her.

She looked at the eccentric house- With its curtain-tight windows and closed door, the place looked empty, as was the norms of the houses in the area. The only audible sounds were the occasional screeching of passing cars.

Ibrahim’s thick black brows were furrowed and he wore his lips in a thin line- Sana decided he was serious. They walked in silence before He broke the ice,
“So, I guess we’re back to not talking huh?
Her silence was enough answer. Ibrahim smiled, knowing his sister couldn’t stay mad if her life depended on it. They’d soon as well make up.


word cont: 172 words. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge, where each week we are provided with a picture and required a 75-175 word story on it. Thank you @TJParis for providing us with his week’s picture. 

Flash Fiction: Half Time!

Flash Fiction: Half Time!

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My voice was hoarse from shouting words of encouragement as every good parent should and my hands, sore from unsuccessfully trying to dispel the flies buzzing around me. Single parenthood was not easy, I thought to myself. Sighs of relief from several dehydrated parents could be heard as the referee whistled for half time. Only forty five more minutes to go.

“Good show Jackson!”, I yelled, to the stinging stares of his team mates parents. It seemed each time the ball was passed to Jackson, he held it for only a second before it was tackled by the opposing teammates. At one point, he shot a goal, turns out it was in his own net.

Jackson ran over, drenched in his mud stained sports shirt and smothered me with a peck on the cheek.
“Thanks mum, I knows there are so many other things you’d rather be doing”.
“Course not, honey”. I lied through my teeth. But in that moment, his horrible football skills didn’t matter, he was already the best son.


word count: 172 words. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. Each week, we are given a picture and expected to write a 75-175 word story on it. Thank you @Yinglan for this week’s picture. 

Writer’s Quote: Innocence

Writer’s Quote: Innocence

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This week’s theme for writer’s quote is innocence which for me is synonymous with children. I remember coming back from school as a kid, and eagerly awaiting 4pm which is when the cartoons start rolling on the TV. I wasn’t a big fan of Winnie the Pooh back then, but looking back, I realise there’s so much wisdom in that cartoon. The character’s showcase diversity and at the same time create a hidden awareness to mental health, while still retaining the innocence associated with childhood. A.A.Milne did an amazing job in writing Winnie-the-pooh.

The above quote reminds me of two people- Joy, who gives us a weekly dose of inspiring quotes here on WordPress which more often than not, contain a Winnie the Pooh quote. And a friend of mine, Leila, who is my partner in crime when it comes to things like food.

It’s an amazing feeling, when even reading a few words, bring back memories of a time, place and people. I guess that’s the power of words. No matter how few or insignificant they may seem, to someone, somewhere, it may their first reason to smile that day.
Here’s to writing even on the days we don’t feel like we can.

This post is in response to Writers Quote Wednesday Writng Challenge hosted by SilverThreading and RonovanWrites. 

Nature’s Embrace-

Nature’s Embrace-

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For her luxury is the sight,
Of a cloudless sky;
Golden rays streaming,
Unfiltered, through cracks.

It’s the crowing of hens,
At the first string of light,
And the tune- of mocking birds,
Singing their hearts.

It’s the softness of wool,
On the skin of her Lambs;
Radiating, “we’re here for you”,
Entwined in her arms.

Luxury is her knees,
In friction with the ground;
With her forehead in prostrate,
As she speaks- to her Lord.

Luxury is the wind,
Sweeping across her face;
With her feet in the grass,
In nature’s sweet embrace.

The above iMage is courtesy of Own Skin.com

Flash Fiction: Family Squabble

Flash Fiction: Family Squabble

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“do you know how expensive it is to take care of a horse?” Nathan was about to reply when his mother cut him,

“Never mind, I’ll tell you” she continued, very, that’s how expensive it is. Why you gotta spend so much money on an animal when you ain’t even gonna eat it.”

“Nobody eats horses”, Nathan snorted.
“You sure about that now son?” She asked with a raised brow.

Mama, I love you, but you touch a hair on my horse-“
“The horse you are yet to buy”, his mother interjected.
“yes, the horse I am yet to buy and I swear, I’ll tell the authorities”.

His mother threw her head back and laughed till streaks of tears glistened on her cheeks.
“Oh honey,” she declared wiping the tears off, “it’s gonna take nothing short of a SWAT team to put cuffs on these two wrists.”

It was a dare… And in that moment, Nathan decided the horse he was yet to buy would never set foot anywhere near fifty feet of his mother.


word count: 175 words. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. Thank you @Phylor for this week’s image. 

Still Here-

Still Here-

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There are days when even I can’t grasp the infinite thoughts floating in my head. I reach out for one but it slips, and on it goes… It is a confusing process really. Those are the days when I spend 24 hours in my pajamas, when I turn on all the bulbs in the house, open up the windows, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, the light seeping in would lend some of its rays to my head because it had to be dark in there- I couldn’t understand a thing, couldn’t process my thoughts.

I go to my trusted friend coffee, because well, you can’t go wrong with caffeine right? Wrong… And that’s when confusion gives birth to irritation. An irritable mood whose two cures fail me miserably- coffee which refuses to stimulate my nerves to release those endorphins and sleep, which is no where to be found.

There are days when I didn’t think I’d make it, there would be days when I will think I won’t make it… But I will. I’m still here aren’t I?