Breathing-

Breathing-

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I can breathe,
Almost;
The words
Stuck in my throat,
Flow from the tips,
Of my fingers and I
Can breathe-

The thoughts,
Forming word salad
In my Brain
Are settling,
Above the dark Mist,
Surrounding me, and I
Can breathe-

The tears,
Constantly gracing,
The skin
On my cheeks,
Have resorted
To ooze,
In the form of oxygen,
A prayer,
From my lips and I
Can
breathe-
Pray,
Wish…
This momentt, lasts 
For eternity.


I’ve got news! No I’m not writing a book. But, I just got myself a Facebook page. It’s called words of a random and i’ld really appreciate it, if you’d check it out and like and share as well. It’s going to be a full-on poetry and prose page with full length poems inserted into an image. Looking forward to connecting with y’all. Here’s the link: words of a random

Rock bottom-

Rock bottom-

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It is a horrible place
To be, where the ground,
Has rubbed against your bare
Body for so long, it becomes-
Normal? Being covered in
Dirt.

It is a horrible place
To dwell in, when darkness
Lasts more than its allotted 12
Hours, and the rays of light
Shining through becomes
The abnormal. Hope is not
Normal?

It is a horrible place
To live, surrounded by
Silence, embraced by its
Cunning arms and the sound
Of another soul, reaching out
Becomes noise. Friends become
Nuisance?

It is a horrible place
To be, where all that is wrong
Seem right, and all that is light
Appears distorted.
When an abyss, becomes
Home?
It is a horrible place
To be- alone.

Unbroken-

Unbroken-

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You held me,
But I am still standing,
You tied me,
But I’m still walking,
You drowned me,
But I breathe under water,
You can break me,
But my pieces would suffice me.

You whisper-
When darkness surrounds me,
Like a coward,
Hiding whilst there’s lighting.
You create-
Illusions around me,
Unaware-
My Lord’s, all the light I need.

You can hold me,
But I’ll still be standing,
You can break me,
My pieces would suffice me.

I hold within me-

I hold within me-

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I am-
All made up of,
the life I’ve left;
Every cell within me,
Tainted by the touch,
Of love,
Of loss,
Of words,
All past;
I thrive on the energy
Of things come,
Now gone.

It rests,
Within my shadow,
A reflection of the girl,
Not the one I was born as,
But the girl I’d grown into,
(Body and soul);
I hold within my shadow,
A past- I cannot,
Bury.

It is-
Right alongside me,
When the sun
Graces the sky,
Till the moon tires out,
Of the darkness,
It resides with me-
My past.

It is with me,
But it is not me,
It made me,
But I am not it.
I carry it,
It doesn’t carry me,
I am made of my past,
It doesn’t control me,
I hold it,
For, It was once
a part of-
Me.

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.

Past the darkness-

Past the darkness-

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Your world was full of darkness,
So I handed you a rope,
To lead you down a pathway,
To the light my soul calls home.

But darkness had convinced you,
It’s warmth was all you need,
The light would add to you nothing,
But unnecessary heat.

Your world was full of darkness,
So I handed you some words,
To keep you company as,
A reminder you’re not alone.

But darkness had convinced you,
It was all the friend you need,
So you bundled up the pages,
Putting a torch to our friendship.

Your world- so full of darkness,
And it hurts you cannot see,
The wings ingrown within you,
You’ve had all you needed to flee.

If only you could- look past the darkness,
For a moment… you will see.
Until then my rope’s still hanging,
To pull you down, whenever you need.

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.

Writer’s quote: Erin Hanson

Writer’s quote: Erin Hanson

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Hello, and welcome to writer’s Quote/poem Wednesday, where I share some of my favourite poems written by other authors. Today’s poet is a 22 year old Australian,
Erin Hanson, who is hands down, my favourite poet from among millennials. Read her poems and you will find out why.

Marilyn Monroe once said, “Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are“, and that, right there is truth. We forget sometimes, that the soul within our body and the heart encaged by our ribs are enough to reflect who we are. Everything else are just bonuses, beauty, hair, size, wealth, they are just extras.

We shouldn’t let them define our worth or give them more value than the fickle nature which they truly are. What happens is, when we value them more than should be, when we let them define us, we lose ourselves and we lose our identity with their loss and it shouldn’t be that way. We are much much more than than that. We have an identity behind the clothes and the cars and the jobs, we are a person first. Those things, should always come second.

Below is a poem which talks about letting ourselves be defined by all the things we are NOT.

Not by Erin Hanson

You are not your age,
Nor the size of clothes you wear,
You are not a weight,
Or the colour of your hair.
You are not your name,
Or the dimples in your cheeks,
You are all the books you read,
And all the words you speak,
You are your croaky morning voice,
And the smiles you try to hide,
You’re the sweetness in your laughter,
And every tear you’ve cried,
You’re the songs you sing so loudly,
When you know you’re all alone,
You’re the places that you’ve been to,
And the one that you call home,
You’re the things that you believe in,
And the people that you love,
You’re the photos in your bedroom,
And the future you dream of,
You’re made of so much beauty,
But it seems that you forgot,
When you decided that you were defined,
By all the things you’re not.

Flash Fiction: Home

Flash Fiction: Home

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Jacob watched the world below him unfold. Standing on the roof top of one of the many dilapidated buildings at 23rd Avery. The kids were playing football and would probably keep at it until the sky turned a deep red.

He watched with a ting of sadness, playing statistics in his head- only 2 out of every 7 of those kids would make it to college; most of them would have the misfortune of being jailed at least once; and thanks to the gang bangers, a few of them might not even live to celebrate their 30th birthday.

He stood, oblivious to the shouting going on below. His neighbourhood was dying, both metaphorically and literally. The violence was at a whole new peak, the buildings were collapsing, even the tree leaves had turned a weary brown.

But, he smiled. It was still his neighbourhood. Plastered on every corner were memories he had created; this “mess”, was all he had ever known. And, despite many unfavourable names it’s been called by outsiders, for him, it was simply “home”.


word count: 175. This story Is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy, where each week we are provided with an image and are to write a 75-175 word story surrounding it. Thank you for this week’s  photo @Grant-sud