Living with him was like swimming in a shark infested ocean and coming out alive. The constant fear of wondering if I would ever make it to the shore; getting there and experiencing relief which lasts only for a few seconds, because I know. No doubt about it, the next day would bring with it, another date with the ocean. The fear, the apprehension and the cycle continues… That was life with him.
Don’t you dare tell me I should have tried harder. There are not many people who would survive a day and I did; I gave it seven years of my life which I can never get back. Was it patience or helplessness? Love or foolishness?
Facebook page: Words of a random
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.
There was a time when poetry was a solace, an escape, a listening ear at a time of heartache. It was the balm to wounds burrowed by others; an antidote to words hurled.
It’s ready arms available with the sun out, with the night in, on stormy and sandy days alike- it was always there.
There was a time when poetry was a witness to flood of waterworks; a testament to minor victories and the chart of a rollercoaster journey. It marked the lows, the highs and the stagnant plateau. It was a friend when friends were few.
And you wonder, why I still write poetry? Wouldn’t leaving it be a great injustice… not even that I could.
When you decided,
We wasn’t worth the war,
My nights turned colder,
Than the December weather,
Soaked sheets became my partner
And gloom my constant shadow.
I was broken
And I showed it.
A man walked out before you,
I was six and I remember,
He’ll make an appearance.
I was six,
I learnt to mend me.
My atoms are made of
Brokenness and resilience,
And the stars at night I gaze at,
Remind me, of the light in darkness;
And my Lord,
Who saved me at six,
Wouldn’t leave me broken at thirty.
Understand- today I am grieving,
Tomorrow, will dawn a new scene.
Time for wallowing,
Time for fixing.
He told you, that verses were old school,
All the modern poets dwelt in lines;
So you bundled up all of your pages,
Dumping them in the dark of your house;
Only one- two lines just, he requested,
No one’s got time to go through a page,
And the heart that you poured into writing,
Crashed to nothing, within a sec.
You tried, didn’t you, to conform,
But the words wouldn’t make sense in two;
After efforts and hours and struggling,
You decided it wasn’t for you;
So you bundled up, all that you’d written,
Modern poetry was not worth the pain;
With his words echoing in the background,
You set fire and watched through the flames.
Who’s to say that you can’t be a poet,
Just because you refuse to conform,
To a particular style of writing,
While beauty resides in every form.
Seasons fade from autumn to winter,
But the truth of the fact still remains,
Some would prefer the winter in autumn,
Some would choose the other way;
Write two lines if you wish or long pages,
Write because- you have something to say.
Mummy is weeping,
Daddy is grieving,
Come back home- little sister is pleading.
Uncle is saddened,
Aunty is weary,
Come back home- danger lurks outside it.
Daddy was blinded,
Mummy was absent,
When danger- made a place in our home.
It dressed up as uncle,
Armoured by Aunty,
Danger- is within our four walls.
Mummy is weeping,
Daddy is grieving,
Little sister- I am breaking within.
Uncle Is saddened,
Aunty is weary,
No one’s there- to take on their torment.
Danger ain’t always,
Reflected by strangers-
Stranger danger isn’t often the case.
Those close to home,
Sometimes commit the worse sins;
I wish mum and dad had believed me.
For the girl, who screamed No
Till her voice was hoarse-
Pleading- for them to stop.
And her blood stained clothes,
Weren’t evidence enough;
And the length,
Of her skirt-
Was brought into question.
For the girl turned down,
By those who swore to protect her-
Cause good girls,
At such time of the night.
For the girl whose strength was burnt,
With one statement to the ground;
Did you resist,
I said No.
Well, is that all you said, No?
For the girl who built her world,
From the rubbles of the past,
Born from anger,
Fuelled with pain,
Watered with hope in order to say-
To the girl, who screams No,
And is told, It isn’t enough.
No means No,
It is enough.
In response to the daily prompt- Resist
The above image is courtesy of Sos safety magazine
I understand, trust me I do.
She didn’t just hurt you bad,
she took the one thing you finally had,
the courage to hand over-
and she thwarted it.
she swept the meaning of trust,
under the rug,
and your marriage,
more than a sham.
That when she gets mad,
she gets MAD;
and a man should not lay a hand,
on a woman.
And you felt the brute end of a
and I understand that,
Cannot grasp it-
Cause- you are a man.
I understand you’ve been hurt,
and I understand you are in pain,
I might not really understand the,
emotions you’ve been through,
but I do feel them- when you say it.
Look. Here. Now.
You’ve got me,
We’ve got our lives,
We’ve got a Lord to worship-
at the first string of light;
A kid who calls you daddy,
And sees you as his Knight;
And I know you do not see it,
So I need you to Understand;
I need you to not despair,
In the mercy of your Lord,
He got you out of the darkness،
Bestowed you, a whole new life;
I need you to understand,
We’ll make it- Cause baby steps;
Just do not give up on yourself.
She sat at the edge of the cliff with her legs, dangling 650 ft above ground. The scorching sun, masking the fact that Autumn was here, at least it should have been; just like many aspects of her life.
Jamila had the greatest shock when she found out, the man she was getting married to, someone she trusted with her loved ones, her son, was in fact a con, arriving Algeria only because of its no extradition law.
She took a deep breath in an effort to absorb the nature around her, anything to distract her mind. Droplets of water settled on her forehead and she gazed towards the sky.
But it’s supposed to be Autumn, she sighed.
The showers turned into a lot more and within a few minutes, Jamila couldn’t distinguish between the water from the sky and those from her eyes.
I needed that, she smiled, soaking in the rain and for the first time since the incident, grateful to God for having dodged a bullet.
word count: 168. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Each week, we are provided a picture to write a 75-175 word story. Thank you Grant-Sud for providing us with this week’s photo.
I Wish there was more I could do,
Put words in writing,
echoing the same thing,
over and over,
Let the children be children
In a land,
where the river’s turned red,
And the cries, of our young ones
Pierce, the atmosphere-
Pleading for mercy.
And I wish,
my voice held the strength
every person with the power
To make, a difference
And bring, the bloodbath
To an end.
And I wish, My heart was
As the ocean, to absorb
Your pain, so you won’t
Have to carry, this grief
On your own.
How I wish,
There was more I could do,
Than put words in writing.
prompt: I wish I could (for December Poetry Challenge). So far, this prompt was the most uninspiring one yet for me. My heart goes out to the victims of the current crisis going on in Aleppo (Syria).
The above image is courtesy of if.LovedThispic.com