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

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Hands of man-

Hands of man-

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Because children are dying,
And women are dying,
And men and animals
Are dying,
And women are killing,
And men are killing,
And we-
Are the cause,
Of the death in our surroundings.

The climate is changing,
For we are polluting,
Then we complain,
The heat is unbearable;
The land shores are flooded,
And that’s not the problem,
The dirt they flow with,
We had thrown-
with our own hands.

The trees- are cut short,
New ones are not planted,
Animals tortured,
For simply ornaments;
Their forests are burnt out,
The animals homeless,
And yet we are
Mortified,
When they visit our home lands.

Children are dying,
Animals are dying,
At the hands of,
Men and women in our society.

Facebook page: words of a random. Let’s connect!

the above image Is courtesy of My word wizard

Beauty (in the odd)-

Beauty (in the odd)-

 

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There’s beauty in odd numbers,
And the things that don’t conform;
The sun on a winter December,
And rain when autumn draws.

There’s beauty in resilience,
Falling nine times, rising ten;
Standing strong when all around us,
Are breaking down in pairs.

There’s beauty in acceptance,
Of the flaws that make us whole;
For the only way to right things,
Is to acknowledge first- the wrong.

There’s beauty in forgiveness,
Letting things roll off our backs;
Shunning off small talks and gossips,
For our sanity, not theirs.

There’s beauty all around us,
And within our ourselves- unique,
Different sizes, shape and colour,
Each beautiful in its own being.

Facebook page: words of a random, let’s connect! 

Flash Fiction: Night-watch

Flash Fiction: Night-watch

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Boss“, began D.S Fenworthy before he was shushed to silence by his partner D.I Lucy. She sat with her head, half-out the car window, gazing towards the sky, as had been her position for the past 20 minutes.

Boss, this is getting ridiculous.” Groaned Fenworthy.

D.I Lucy sighed before turning her gaze to face him in the driver’s seat.
“A few minutes of silence was all I wanted,” she muttered.

Well, We’ve been sitting in this car for the past four hours“, Fenworthy moaned.
“4 hrs, 37 minutes“, she corrected.

Yes that. Can’t we leave already.”

D.I Lucy smiled in wonder at how Fenworthy could be surrounded with such beauty- The soothing presence of the golden yellow ombré against a blue background in the sky, the soft whooshing sounds of tree leaves, the cool autumn breeze blowing; yet still find something to moan about.

Soon Fen.” She answered, knowing he couldn’t decipher her facial expressions in the darkness. And thinking to herself, “some people need a date with nature.”


Word count: 166. The above story is in response. You Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writer’s photo prompt challenge, where each week we are provided with a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story on it. Thank you @footy and foodie for this week’s photo.

You are sufficient-

You are sufficient-

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He is the sun,
Reflecting light from afar,
Attracting,
Pulling one and all towards him.

He is the sun,
A ginormous creation,
Appealing,
Even from a distance.

He is the sun,
But you-
my dear,
are the sky.
A vast entity of infinite
Creations,
Atoms upon molecules;
A necessity,
In calm or adversity.

He is the sun,
Needed,
But only for a while.
He maybe the sun,
You are the sky.
Come rain,
Come sunshine,
Your need never falls short.

Don’t let his shine,
Diminish your vast,
You- are sufficient.

The best things-

The best things-


They say good things don’t last forever,
But I believe the best things do,

Like the rising of the sun each day,
Reflecting it’s golden beams.

The moon each night unfailingly,
Illuminating night’s darkness.

The rise and fall of ocean waves,
Which never cease to occur.

This planet, 3 hundred and 65 days
Revolving around the sun,

Sending love through Rays and sunbeams,
Each day from dawn till dusk.

The stars in all of their beauty,
Shining gallantly in the sky,

Piercing through the darkened layers,
To comfort the moon at night;

They say good things don’t last forever,
They- who can’t comprehend our love,

If breathing is a necessity for life,
Then you- my dear, are my lungs.

Flash Fiction: In the moment

Flash Fiction: In the moment

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D.I Lucy was led through a snow-covered narrow pathway which led to the penthouse’s door. Both sides were bordered by a variety of flowers consisting of chrysanthemums, oleanders; those were the only two she could identify under the blanket of ice which formed thorny cushions on the plants.

One in particular caught her gaze. Slowing her pace, she tried to place the flower in her mind. What was it called again?

It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
D.I Lucy’s thoughts were interrupted by her guide who wasn’t much of a talker, which suited Lucy just fine.
“I noticed you staring at that flower a little longer“.

D.I Lucy managed a weak smile in return as they arrived the house door, making a mental note to check out the guide later on- she was observant. D.I Lucy made three sharp knocks on the door, bracing herself for the worst part of her job- breaking bad news.


Word count: 154 words. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge where each week we are given a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story surrounding it. Thank you very much @loniangraphics for this week’s photo.

P- Paul Laurence Dunbar

P- Paul Laurence Dunbar

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My poet for today’s writer’s quote/ poem Wednesday, in correlation with the atoz challenge I am participating in is, Paul Laurence Dunbar. The first time I came across his work was watching a poetry out loud competition in YouTube, where his poem “we wear the mask” was recited. It was amazing. But that is not the poem I’m going to share today. Today’s poem is titled “sympathy” and all I’ll say is, if you enjoyed reading maya Angelou’s- I know why the caged bird sings, you’ll enjoy this.

Sympathy by Paul Laurence Dunbar
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals–
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting–
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,–
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings–
I know why the caged bird sings!

Night is not just night-

Night is not just night-

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Night is not just night,
She says,
It’s the end of wear from
Another day,
Its the want of every tired limb,
To graze the bed
And be engulfed within,

Night is not just night,
she says,
It marks the start of day
for a few,

When the birds arrive,
And the sun depart-
To make a living,
They depart into night.

Night is not just night,
She says,
It’s the time when memories,
Sneak a peak-
Appearing as droplets down
Our cheeks,
With the knowledge, that darkness
Would shield their view.

Night is not just night,
She says,
It’s the time some pray,
The time some waste,
The time some rest,
Or the mind comes awake,
But night is not “just” Night.

In the present-

In the present-

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I stood,
watching the sky beyond me,
fade to a brilliant violet hue.
Fade to a golden crimson colour,
In solitary fineness, I stood.

The birds-
I bet were wondering why,
I could tell from their hovering stance
Above, their noise but a minuscule
Compared to the view- I stood.

The beauty-
Early morn possesses,
At the start of summer every year,
Makes Autumn memory disappear,
Oh Lord, what blessing.

But Night,
Shall come and blanket,
The birds shall part for their nest,
Summer will eventually disappear,
So I stand… In the present.

The credit for the beautiful sunrise image above is courtesy of this blog these days of mine.com