Safe haven-

Safe haven-


If you are a lover of rainbows,
A dreamer when the sun is about,
A reader whilst the crowd is gathering,
For worldly pleasures and fun.

A foodie when your mind is spinning,
A sleeper whilst the shadow is around,
A prayer unknots from your tongue on,
the days when the hours seem long.

If you know you are normal,
But have been called weird,
If you are a dreamer,
But have been named belle,
If you are religious,
But have been called prude,
If you love the written,
But have been called nerd.

Welcome to my world,
Of papers and words,
A safe haven for dreamers,
With no need to conform.

K- Knowing you

K- Knowing you


Those ember months brought along a certain feeling of longing and wistfulness I couldn’t adequately describe in words; a longing for the ocean while standing at the shore, watching the waves crash at my foot but not daring to take any step further. Why? A question I couldn’t answer until you arrived, one sunny ember morning.
And a girl who never believed in cliches took one glance at you striding into the parlour with my father and I knew, you would play a big role in my life, which you did… until you couldn’t.

Your smile would light up a room and your charisma made everyone comfortable. You let me be the joker in public with the jokes you enriched me with in private. And you- with your arms which were nothing like those of the future I had imagined, were my home.
Meeting you was a coincidence, knowing was a privilege, and loving you- a blessing

#My First Post Revisited

#My First Post Revisited


Miss Tikeethat T from a Thomas’ point of view, tagged me yesterday, in a little fun blog tag I’ve been seeing floating around, but had previously positively turned a blind eye to. Why? You may ask. Well this tag is called #MyFirstPostRevised and as I wrote my first post on the 18th of august 2014, I was hoping it would have drowned amongst the multitude of posts I’ve written afterwards.

I don’t know if I have mentioned it before, but when I first began this blog, it wasn’t supposed to be for poetry. I guess it was supposed to be an inspirational blog? (I’m not really sure). Good thing I had figured out soon enough, I was more in need of inspiration than I could inspire. Without further digression, below is my first post: 


We live in a generation where every single thing we do and say, even the littlest detail is scrutinized and criticized. Thus, making it easier for people to wall up and avoid their true calling and way harder to follow the path that they should be taking.

I remember when I first started to write poetry, it was in high school, and where I come from, they don’t get it. Anything that deviates from the traditional “medicine, accounting or engineering” gets a whole lot of resistance. And when you write, you instantly become one with your work, and it hurts when people don’t get it.

But here’s the thing, it shouldn’t matter what they say. I know it does matter, but it shouldn’t. Those people trying to diminish your spirit arent going to live your life for you. It’s your life to live, it’s your mistake to make and it’s your path to choose. If painting is what you love to do, then my dears, paint your hands off. If cooking is your passion, then set the kitchen on fire ( not literally though). The point is, there’s going to be resistance anyway, so just do what you would be happy the rest of your life doing.

It will be ridiculous of me to say it is easy, cause it’s not. There’s going to be people who’d hate what you do along the way, and you just gotta have a thick skin. Words would hurt but you don’t let it show, because the bigger picture is all that matters in the end.

So my dears, pick up those paint brushes, or the clay pot mix, or a pen and paper- whatever it is, block the world out and just do it. You really never know until you try and embrace it wholeheartedly. And remember, we owe it to ourselves to at least give it our all.

Here’s a little quote to sleep on: Don’t allow the world to define your greatness for most of this world is blind.           The end

Below are the rules, If you’ve been looking for an excuse to share your first post, or you are like me, and have been turning a blind eye and trying to avoid the challenge, feel free to join now. 

No cheating. (It must be your first post. Not your second post, not one you love…first post only.)
Link back to the person who tagged you (thank them if you feel like it or, if not, curse them with a plague of ladybugs).
Other rules:

Cut and paste your old post into a new post or reblog your own bad self. (Either way is fine but NO editing.)
Put the hashtag #MyFirstPostRevisited in your title.
Tag…um…five (5) other bloggers to take up this challenge.
Notify your tags in the comment section of their blog (don’t just hope they notice a pingback somewhere in their spam).
Feel free to cut and paste the badge to use in your post.
Include “the rules” in your post.

writer’s Quote: Solitude-

writer’s Quote: Solitude-


For the first writer’s quote of February, I chose an author whose poems I only recently became familiar with recently- Ella wheeler Wilcox. There, I gave out the author’s name already so no worries. There is no quiz this week. The title of the poem is Solitude.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all,—
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life’s gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

The verses of the poem were culled from Poetry foundation and the above image quote is courtesy of

Day 31: Dying Minute

Day 31: Dying Minute


If ever a time comes when I know my end is inevitable, my time is limited and my moments left to witness are a handful, I want you all to know:

Your smile is the sight I want before me,
your hands entwined in mine at the last minute,
your presence the warmth I want to depart from.
Through you I came to this world,
by you I’d like to leave.

And I want You to know,
to be thrown high up from your weary arms,
set the foundation throughout my life-
you’d always be there to catch my fall,
The only man who’d never break my trust.

And I remember when
you were first brought to our home,
your first crawl, first walk,
first talk,
and oh how you talked from then on.
Your presence reenergised a dying lamp in my heart.
And don’t you ever forget,
you are the light of our home.

And oh, our struggles and battles,
our artless ways.
Spending summer days teaching
a girl the ways of ball games.
An older brother with a heart of gold,
You taught me to own wholeheartedly-
who I was.

Friends are the family we form through bonds other than blood. How lucky I am to have found both in one.

Day 31: LAST. And here we are finally, the last day of December poetry challenge. It’s been an amazing experience and thank you every single person who liked, commented and reblog. Words can’t do justice to how much I appreciate it especially after being away for a better part of this year. So thank you. 

The above picture is courtesy of Bill on Love this

The Joy, I carried-

The Joy, I carried-


The light of my life,
And the glint in my eye,
She is the sun who’s rays are undying.

The stars are a stretch,
When her sparks start to shine,
She is a diamond who cannot be cracked.

If the moon is a pearl
Then her face beams a thousand
My baby, my girl, the child that I carried.

Joy came through marriage,
And contentment ensued,
Till for 9 months a soul- emerged in my womb.

The glint in my eye,
My moon during dark,
My baby my girl, the joy that I carried.

The above image is courtesy of Art from my soul

Flash Fiction: Mommy’s day out

Flash Fiction: Mommy’s day out


“Remember, be-have!”, Christine warned the kids right before they stepped into the restaurant. She marched over to the counter with Mark where they requested a menu for their table.

Christine had barely slumped into a seat when the terrifying sound of “mama” came to her ears. She smiled at her husband, “so much for behaving”.
“What happened sweetie?”, she asked, putting on her mummy face as one of the four approached her with teary eyes.

“Who’s your favorite child”, her teary four year old asked.
Experience with three previous kids had taught Christine there was no right answer to the question. She threw Mark a sympathetic look. The sides of her lip turned upward as she watched her husband handle the situation gallantly.

“Once this come”, she said, pointed to a growing bump, “my garage is officially out of business”. Mark couldn’t contain his laughter as he remembered that was the same thing she said after their 3rd. 

“We’ll see” he teased, knowing although the kids drove her nuts, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Word count: 176 words. Thank you Etol Bagam for this week’s picture. This is my submission to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. Each week, we get a picture to write a 150 give/take 25 word story on. You’re welcome to participate, the more the merrier. Just click HERE.

2015 in review

2015 in review

The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2015 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 17,000 times in 2015. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 6 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

To everyone who’s read, liked and commented on Randoms by a Random, I just want to say. Thank you very much. Not trying to sound cheesy here (okay, maybe a little bit), but I couldn’t have done it without you guys. And wordpress suggested I send a Thank you note to my top commenters: Priceless Joy, Prakash Hegade, JoyRoses, Noirfifre and Nimmi. Thank you.

Behind every successful blog are amazing readers… ❤

Writer’s Quote: Daphne Du Maurier

Writer’s Quote: Daphne Du Maurier


I was talking to an old friend today and explained how I wanted a two weeks break from school and stress without having to make any plans or be compelled to visit anyone. Just me, with my girls and our books and cups of tea, chilling, relaxing and watching episodes of criminal minds. He didn’t get it.

There is a certain contentment, an aura of calmness, when you’re with the ones you love and doing what you love to do- reading and writing; many people I have come across don’t understand it, but the truth is, it is NOT for them to understand. We’re happy, relaxed and for a few days, enjoying the silence, isn’t that all that matters. They assume it is a boring life, but actually, there is nothing more interesting than being with like minded people, surrounded by books and stories with amazing characters or challenging one’s self creatively.

Happiness isn’t defined by luxury, it is a state of mind- whether in a glass house or in wooden one. I once read, a few years back that Poets are sad people. For a while I believed it; but now I’ve come to realize just because some write-ups are fueled by sad emotions doesn’t mean ‘current sadness”. Writing it out is just like crying, letting the negativity out in order to create space for the happiness yet to come, and to me that’s not being sad; that’s dealing with life.

Cheers to everyone who enjoys reading and writing either in luxury or simplicity. This world is big enough for both categories.

This post is in response to Writer’s Quote Wednesday hosted by a Silver Threading.

Flash Fiction: Phantom

Flash Fiction: Phantom


Old lady Darcy, getting a high five from the ladies. The tales that woman spins from the webs of her mind are a wonder. It makes me want to be like her when I get older, always the life of a crowd.

Walking past is Feisty Fanny. It seems her and Danny boy have had another of their fights. Three kids and no ring. I wonder what you’d say If you heard that about me mama. I guess we’ll cross that ocean when we get there.

The lovebirds at the corner are probably deciding over wedding things. I hear, blonde-Lady Janet says they won’t last cause their’s was a whirlwind romance. She’s over forty and never married, I think that speaks for Itself.

And then there’s me, still the phantom of every crowd. You always said, when I got older I’d be the flower in everyone’s garden. All I had to do is wait. Well, I sure am waiting mama, only thing, you’re not here to see it.

word count: 168 This is my very late response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge. Thank you @thestoryteller’sabode for such a wonderful picture.