Somedays (how it is)-

Somedays (how it is)-

Some days, I feel like a foetus in the womb. With no care in the world. Peace abound, peace within.

Somedays, I feel like thunder is rumbling within me and and a fire is yearning to be let out.

Mama says- that is life. Somedays, it is; somedays it isn’t. 

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My words-

My words-

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I write for the days when the beating heart within my chest feels ripped apart. For the days when my readily accessible tears fail me (it wouldnt be the first thing to fail me).

I write for the days when my mind spins tales on purpose which perpetuate me as the villain- it is my mind but i have no control over it.

I write for the days when rejection and heartbreak; betrayal and sadness all morph into one and spring on me at once.

I write to remind myself, I am not alone. I have my words, I have my Lord. I have been failed before and I rose and wrote words.

So I write these words and save them, for the rainy day that I would need them.

A writer to another-

A writer to another-

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You have your love,
I have my darkness,

You pour your heart,
I divulge my soul,

You have your lover,
I have my black dog,

You write of the future,
I disdain my past.

You write of rainbows,
I write of dark clouds

You write in free verse,
I drown in rhymes,

You are a writer,
I write in hiding,

When you’ll write of heartbreaks,
I’ll write of hope.

You bloom under sunbeams,
I strengthen with lightning,

Our swords are the same
Just not our pattern of fighting,

When my clouds dissipates
And you, darkness visits

Here are my words,
To keep you company.

You have your love,
I have my darkness,

We both need each other,
In a world that keeps changing.

The above image is courtesy of Tumblr

Reach out-

Reach out-

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Reach out,
For my hands
Lay outstretched,
To welcome yours;
Through setting suns,
And rising dawns,
Through mist filled airs,
And darkness bound.

Reach out,
Old friend,
My ears are perked,
To be filled with sounds,
Of your nightmares,
My drums-
They yearn,
to welcome your sobs,
And pass the message
Through arms outstretched.

Reach out,
To the arms,
You once lifted,
When raging storms,
Depleted my joy.
Old friend,
Who lit up my world,
Once more.
My hands,
Won’t tire of being outstretched.

Reach out,
For you deserve to see,
The sun
And feel it’s light,
In your soul.

 

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! 

The boy by the sea-

The boy by the sea-

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His talk was as loud as,
His silence while crying;
He’d mastered the art of,
Concealing his downfalls;
When the moon graced
The sky,
You’d find him,
Under the starlight.

His smile was as bright as,
The darkness he kept hidden;
And no one would reach out,
None knew he needed healing;
When the sky turned a shade,
He could live without concealment,
You’d find him by the bank,
Alone with his reflection.

When you sight him,
By the sea,
In reply to, “how you’re feeling”.
He’d smile,
Praise his lord and add,
“I cannot count my blessings”.

In spite of the darkness,
In spite of his heart bleeding,
It could have been worse,
Is the mantra he keeps repeating.
His talk was as loud as,
His silence while crying,
His strength is reflected,
In his hope to keep on living.


P.S what had happened was, my days got mixed up yesterday. I thought it was Wednesday already when it was actually Tuesday (yes, I am that eager for the weekend to come) and hence, I accidentally posted the writers poem Wednesday, yesterday instead of today.

Safe haven-

Safe haven-

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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.

What love is-

What love is-

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They say,
This- is what love is,
But you wouldn’t know now,
Would you?… referring to me,
A rendition, much like,
The sensational rhymes
Of a love poem,
Pours out of them.

I listen,
I have to-
An emotion which seems to be
An equivalent, to the way
I gaze at a cup of
Steaming black coffee,
Enchanted by the
Swirls of its steam;
Anticipation,
of that first sip.

An emotion which almost,
Feels like the yearning
With which I wrap myself
Around my one gifted duvet,
A visit,
Whose end I dread.

An emotion akin to
The warmth which embraces me
Each moment I happen,
Upon the words of my lord.
Pleasant to the ears,
Soothing to the soul.

An emotion which almost,
Almost feels like the cause,
Of my heart to bit a little faster,
At the sight of my study table;
Always another book to read.
How I hate them.
Oh, how I love them.

But they say-
I do not know what love is.
Maybe, I don’t.

The beautiful picture above Is courtesy of Pinterest.

O- October lessons

O- October lessons

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Don’t take my silence,
As my innocence,
Or the naivety of a girl.
For the girl in me,
Had died long before,
Your ring ever touched my hand.

Don’t take my silence,
As a proof you’ve won,
For your barks more than your bite;
And I’ve fought more battles,
Than you’ll ever see,
And emerged each time a victor.

Don’t take my silence,
as anything but,
A remembrance of mama’s word,
One October morning,
bless her soul, she said-
never stoop down to a fool’s worth.

the above image is courtesy of Beautiful petals.com