I am much more-

I am much more-

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To all the friends
I pushed aside-
Sent every call,
To voice message .

Somedays my dark
Empowers me,
I blink, I breathe,
That’s all I can be.

To all the friends,
Who stood by me,
From dawn to dusk
And the dark in between.

When sorrow wipes
Aside my joy,
Your thoughts, remind me,
I am much more.

Much more than pain
Much more than tears
Much more than another,
Sad ending.

Because of you-
I am much more.

Pieces of a Puzzle

Pieces of a Puzzle

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I am who you think I am and who you think I am not. I am a chest of secrecy and a cloak of openness. I am the strict parent and the fun-loving one. Yes, adrenaline courses through my blood and yes, I need caffeine to go through the day.

I am the spontaneous friend and the sensible one. The burger binger and the salad encourager. The lens wearer and the makeup lover. The football junkie and the pink stiletto owner.

I am who you know me to be, and who you’d never imagine of me. A hopeful dreamer and soulful realist. A traditional home-maker and modern go-getter. A day time hustler and nighttime writer. An avid talker and a silent listener. A couch lover and a crowd speaker.

I am who I am and despite what you may Want, I’ll always be who you’ll Need me to be.

T- To the one who curses time

T- To the one who curses time

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Take heed my friend,
And curse time not;
The hands of the clock,
Move the same for all.

It ticks and it tocks,
With each passing dawn,
Allotting 24 hours
Regardless, to all.

The time I waste,
The time you make,
The best of use-
Is all the same.

Take heed my friend,
and curse time not,
For time is faultless,
We humans are not.

Flash Fiction: Not alone 

Flash Fiction: Not alone 


I apologise for the inconvenience,” Chef Lee was saying, as customers shuffled out of the restaurant. A number of them upset and vividly expressing their displeasure at his abrupt closure in broad daylight.

Chef Lee stepped out to put a lock on the door having cleared the restaurant of staff and customers alike, only to find a young man with a sour-milk expression, blocking the entrance.
Why?” The youngster asked.

Chef Lee sighed, then replied, “I told you. My neighbour, Muhammad’s family, has been detained unwarranted at the airport and I’m going to support him”. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me“, he added, moving out of the youngster’s way.

The youngster smirked, “what can you do there.” It wasn’t a question, but still, Lee smiled and replied, “reassure him that he is not alone.”


Word count: 133. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers photo prompt Challenge. Thank you very much @singledust for providing us with this week’s picture. 

Flash Fiction: 4 mates, 1 tree

Flash Fiction: 4 mates, 1 tree

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James huffed and puffed, bursting into beads of sweat under the 42 degree summer heat as he and his mates tried to pull away a fallen tree which had obstructed the estate’s gate.

“Has the tree gotten heavier or is it just me?” He pondered, not daring to take a break lest he became too weak to resume pulling. Eventually, his tired part won. He dropped the rope and turned to face his mates only to realise the source of the tree’s extra weight.

His mates hands were long free from the tree’s rope and their attention was fixated on something entirely else.
Stunned and mad, James exclaimed, “wow, why don’t you just grab a seat and a lemonade each. James is here, he’ll do all the work”.

They mumbled their apologies while he headed towards the source of their amusement.
A cockfight! Seriously?“, he shook his head, “you guys are weirdos“.
Isaiah smiled, “takes one to know one”.


Word count: 157 words. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring writers photo prompt challenge where each week, we are provided a photo to write a 75-175 word story on. Thank you very much Shivangi Singh for this week’s picture. 

Worth Saving-

Worth Saving-

 
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She said “you are worth saving”,
And I wanted to ask why,
For I went to bed at sundown,
Dreading seeing the daylight.

She told me, you are beautiful,
And I traced down all my scars,
Feeling every indentation-
Shrivelling at their sight.

She told me pick your self up,
There’s still strength in your stride;
But darkness had convinced me-
My bones could barely stand.

I wished that she would leave me,
To the company of my thoughts,
But my Lord had other plans, for
She stuck like gum on a wall.

Until I began to ponder,
What is it she sees in me;
Maybe beneath, I was more than,
Brokenness and fragility.

I sifted through the darkness,
For a single ray of light,
Something to show I was deserving,
Of such friendship, such heart.

Then everyday at sundown,
Under the company of the stars,
I searched for worth within me,
Even a trace, would suffice.

She said, I was worth saving,
Now I finally understand;
You can’t compel a person,
You can only show them how-
To believe they are worth saving.

Healing-

Healing-

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She wanted to know,
Why I hid during day;
Where my nightmares took me,
In the solace of dusk;
If the golden rays streaming,
When the morning sun comes;
Puts a damp in the void,
She thought was my world.

She wanted to know,
Of the cracks in my building;
The voices I heard when,
Silence- I befriended;
She wanted to know,
Of the life I am seeking;
The universe I envision,
In my kaleidoscope dreams.

She wanted to know,
Of the holes in my heart,
The blackout in my chapters,
The fairytales, I write;
She wanted to know,
In the hopes she could heal,
But every second with her-
Is all the healing I need.

The above Image is Courtesy of Unicorn.tumblr.com

The saying”everybody needs inspiration” rightly applies to this Random, my muse has gone awol and I haven’t been able to write anything meaningful. I signed up for October Poetry Writing month but their prompts  haven’t titled my writing bone yet. Any tips?

Writer’s Quote: Kahlil Gibran

Writer’s Quote: Kahlil Gibran

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The theme for this week’s writers quote is “Wisdom“. It was a befitting choice personally for me, cause I’m currently reading a poetic prose book which I would say is full of wisdom. The book in question is, Kahlil Gibran’s “The prophet”.

At first, I tried to binge read it and get to the end but quickly realized, this wasn’t that kinda book. The prophet, is the type of book where you read a chapter, drown in the beauty of the words and pause at the end to let the all too clear message sink in and resonate with your soul.

Kahlil Gibran talks about majority of things pertaining to our daily lives in his book. Each chapter is dedicated to a struggle- pain, joy, family, love, passion, work and a whole lot more.

The quote above is a passage from the chapter where he writes about friendship. To think that this book was released in the year 1923 and here we are, almost a century later and his words are living on and inspiring. I guess, that’s the beauty of writing. It has no expiry date, it simply lives on…


The above post is in response to Writer’s Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge hosted by SilverThreading and RonovanWrites. For more information On how to participate, just click on the highlighted link above. 🙂

Not a writer-

Not a writer-

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To the one who reads my poems and praises them behind my back. I heard all about you today. No names were mentioned, but, it had to be you. We haven’t spoken in forever, we used to talk everyday, remember?  I hear you want to know how, I’m sorry but there Is no how… I just read and write. I know, it might not make much sense to you, it doesn’t make much sense to me either. I’m not a writer… I just write.

You made my day, and through this blabbering, that’s all I really want to say. I know you didn’t say it to my face, maybe you couldn’t. Why? Is a question for another day. For now, all I have to say is thank you.

You may not read this… I hope you do.

Lock and Key-

Lock and Key-

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There are times when she feels a burning desire to tell you of all that aches within. She knows you will understand, but… And that “but” is the bump on the road jolting her back from divulging to you. The fear, the inevitability that some day, one day, the words she trusts you with would spill from your tongue unrestrained; the truth she hands over to you lock and key would be employed as a weapon, your weapon against her.
                                  It wouldn’t be the first time…
And for that reason, dear friend, she knows she should tell you of all that aches within… But she can’t.

The above image is courtesy of Poetrygrrl.com