Part1
Leah
Since it is Sunday and it has stopped raining, I think I will bring a bouquet of roses to my grave. Red and white roses, the ones that are grown for alters and crowns. The gloomy, eerie weather of the morning had reminded me of the hill where people dump their dead loved ones. It is a bare place, without trees, swept clean except for the few fortunate crumbs that return once the wind has passed. Now that it has stopped raining, the midday sun should have dried the path up the hill, making it passable. The sun might now shine on the tomb, where my childhood body rests, in the back, now confused, crumbling between snails and roots, not to forget maggots. It gets very cold, lonely and depressing down here, if I knew it was going to be like this I would’ve asked to be cremated. My name is Leah Paper and this is my story.
It all started in the year 2016 when my family and I moved to a town near Nupide, which is a town on the northern side of Vysia. My neighbourhood was very alien, because I totally did not know anyone there. Our new house was odd and different in every way. It had broken windows but I guess the children from the neighbourhood threw them with stones and bottles. They said the house was haunted, they said something sinister lived in it's walls but we never listened. The house gave off a rotten egg smell and sometimes there were whispers coming from my closet. Someone should have told me then to pursue my parents on leaving the house. All I have are memories that sting when I open the door in mind.
The things that go bump in the dark are scarier than most people can imagine. I am not talking about frictional creatures like Dracula, Frankenstein, or Klaus Michelson, I am talking every person’s nightmare, every humans’ worst fear, I am talking about the devil himself. He wears a fancy suit that has a unique stich style. He was as handsome as the stars you see on the big screens, and his eyes tend to give off this compelling light that hypnotised me from the moment I saw him...
#review #shortstory
Leah
Since it is Sunday and it has stopped raining, I think I will bring a bouquet of roses to my grave. Red and white roses, the ones that are grown for alters and crowns. The gloomy, eerie weather of the morning had reminded me of the hill where people dump their dead loved ones. It is a bare place, without trees, swept clean except for the few fortunate crumbs that return once the wind has passed. Now that it has stopped raining, the midday sun should have dried the path up the hill, making it passable. The sun might now shine on the tomb, where my childhood body rests, in the back, now confused, crumbling between snails and roots, not to forget maggots. It gets very cold, lonely and depressing down here, if I knew it was going to be like this I would’ve asked to be cremated. My name is Leah Paper and this is my story.
It all started in the year 2016 when my family and I moved to a town near Nupide, which is a town on the northern side of Vysia. My neighbourhood was very alien, because I totally did not know anyone there. Our new house was odd and different in every way. It had broken windows but I guess the children from the neighbourhood threw them with stones and bottles. They said the house was haunted, they said something sinister lived in it's walls but we never listened. The house gave off a rotten egg smell and sometimes there were whispers coming from my closet. Someone should have told me then to pursue my parents on leaving the house. All I have are memories that sting when I open the door in mind.
The things that go bump in the dark are scarier than most people can imagine. I am not talking about frictional creatures like Dracula, Frankenstein, or Klaus Michelson, I am talking every person’s nightmare, every humans’ worst fear, I am talking about the devil himself. He wears a fancy suit that has a unique stich style. He was as handsome as the stars you see on the big screens, and his eyes tend to give off this compelling light that hypnotised me from the moment I saw him...
#review #shortstory
#review #poetry
Trotting on a low lit street,
my eyes are moist,and now the feet
Feel so heavy as they have never been.
Flashbacks of past haunt me these days,
Long lost cronies,their parted ways.
I scream
And yet the screams remain unheard,
as I weep in woods,where Banyans,
Gird me and share my sadness.
I despise their towns and hate their cities,
where the captives of desires,
Reside And act as they all have a life,
When all they have are daily strifes.
I ignore to accept them as mine.
Only woods are mine.Only woods are mine.
Trotting on a low lit street,
my eyes are moist,and now the feet
Feel so heavy as they have never been.
Flashbacks of past haunt me these days,
Long lost cronies,their parted ways.
I scream
And yet the screams remain unheard,
as I weep in woods,where Banyans,
Gird me and share my sadness.
I despise their towns and hate their cities,
where the captives of desires,
Reside And act as they all have a life,
When all they have are daily strifes.
I ignore to accept them as mine.
Only woods are mine.Only woods are mine.
#review #poetry #le
Love to keep
Two sail upon a boat,
Two hearts but not one beat.
Two pilgrims on a road,
Heavy burdens, weary feet.
A gleam of hope, a light,
As two lonely gazes meet.
Hearts revived to life,
One now the other's beat.
My lips touch yours,
The taste is truth it seems.
But souls have wounds,
One's love the other seeps.
Two eyes one cry,
Red cheeks drenched in tears.
Two lungs one sigh,
Screams swallowed in fears.
Hearts of wings do fly,
To fall to sorrow's deep.
The lips of truth do lie,
Those lies I now shall reap.
The heart awaits to die,
Alone without a beat.
The soul's fountain runs dry,
It has no love to keep.
Love to keep
Two sail upon a boat,
Two hearts but not one beat.
Two pilgrims on a road,
Heavy burdens, weary feet.
A gleam of hope, a light,
As two lonely gazes meet.
Hearts revived to life,
One now the other's beat.
My lips touch yours,
The taste is truth it seems.
But souls have wounds,
One's love the other seeps.
Two eyes one cry,
Red cheeks drenched in tears.
Two lungs one sigh,
Screams swallowed in fears.
Hearts of wings do fly,
To fall to sorrow's deep.
The lips of truth do lie,
Those lies I now shall reap.
The heart awaits to die,
Alone without a beat.
The soul's fountain runs dry,
It has no love to keep.
Read the third part above ⬆️]
Unforgettable (Part 4) - Ending
(Fragment of the previous part: The question "is it just me being a weirdo as usual, or the power of that f*cking boy?" keeps replaying in my head, over and over again.)
Later that day, after the school ends, I go to take a walk first instead of going home. During my walk, I started to think, that my life could be represented by my walk this day. I only walk, keep walking, walking around, but without any purpose. And my life? I just do what have been told, I just do what people said to me to do, but I didn't realize, that all this time, I do things as usual, but don't have any purpose in life. And I also didn't realize, that my tears falling down slowly into my cheeks. The way I want to take a walk to calm my mind, turns out to be worse, but useful, at least for myself.
I finally decided to go home and pass the same street. I saw many of guys running with the stains on their uniforms. I decided to check it out, then I found that a boy is laying there, hold a camera with a broken lens. His blood is falling down from his forehead to his chin. I don't know what to say. I'm speechless, but I can't hold my tears. I'm crying, then I leave. Actually, my mind told me to leave, but my heart told me to stay. I don't know which one should I follow, but still, I leave.
I'm still crying during my walk to go home, even after I finally arrived. I just opened the fences and the door, then go to my room without even saying hi to my Mom. I've been sitting in the floor of my room for like an hour. Still in my uniform, and still with those thoughts that I've got during my journey when I take a walk. I heard someone coming upstairs, then opened the door of my room. It's my Mom. She brings the dinner upstairs because she wants to have a dinner with me, but instead of having a dinner, my Mom hugs me, and I crying even harder. My Mom knows that I'm crying, but she didn't say anything. An hour later, my Mom goes to work, and I stay at my room. We ended up didn't have a dinner... together.
The next day, I didn't go to school because I've got a fever. Maybe it's because I took a bath in the evening—it's cold. I stay at home by myself, because my Mom have to replace her friend for work. Around 5 PM, I saw a posman put something on my mailbox. I ignored it at the first, but I'm too curious, so I checked it out. There's my name on the envelope, which is means that the letter is for me. I opened the envelope quickly, then saw a picture of me and that one weird guy, that we took the first time we met. On the back of the pic, there's a beautiful yet messy handwriting, says:
"I found this pic on my bag after we talked to each other during the first break. I don't wanna tell you yet, and I have a reason. I always keep an eye on you, even when you don't see me around. Today, I don't see you, where are you? I hope you did the same thing as I did. Apologize won't works, but still, I'm sorry. I don't know when this would be happens, but see you."
Since that day, I never see him around anymore. I don't know his name, I don't know where does he live, I don't know where does he going, but I hope he still keeps an eye on me, even tho I never see him around anymore.
Author's note: I'm curious to know, where do you think that boy go? 🤔 And what do you think is the reason he didn't tell her about the pic?? 🤔 I think this part is too long, but it'll be fun! (I mean, I hope so 🤐)
#review #kwan #shortstory
Unforgettable (Part 4) - Ending
(Fragment of the previous part: The question "is it just me being a weirdo as usual, or the power of that f*cking boy?" keeps replaying in my head, over and over again.)
Later that day, after the school ends, I go to take a walk first instead of going home. During my walk, I started to think, that my life could be represented by my walk this day. I only walk, keep walking, walking around, but without any purpose. And my life? I just do what have been told, I just do what people said to me to do, but I didn't realize, that all this time, I do things as usual, but don't have any purpose in life. And I also didn't realize, that my tears falling down slowly into my cheeks. The way I want to take a walk to calm my mind, turns out to be worse, but useful, at least for myself.
I finally decided to go home and pass the same street. I saw many of guys running with the stains on their uniforms. I decided to check it out, then I found that a boy is laying there, hold a camera with a broken lens. His blood is falling down from his forehead to his chin. I don't know what to say. I'm speechless, but I can't hold my tears. I'm crying, then I leave. Actually, my mind told me to leave, but my heart told me to stay. I don't know which one should I follow, but still, I leave.
I'm still crying during my walk to go home, even after I finally arrived. I just opened the fences and the door, then go to my room without even saying hi to my Mom. I've been sitting in the floor of my room for like an hour. Still in my uniform, and still with those thoughts that I've got during my journey when I take a walk. I heard someone coming upstairs, then opened the door of my room. It's my Mom. She brings the dinner upstairs because she wants to have a dinner with me, but instead of having a dinner, my Mom hugs me, and I crying even harder. My Mom knows that I'm crying, but she didn't say anything. An hour later, my Mom goes to work, and I stay at my room. We ended up didn't have a dinner... together.
The next day, I didn't go to school because I've got a fever. Maybe it's because I took a bath in the evening—it's cold. I stay at home by myself, because my Mom have to replace her friend for work. Around 5 PM, I saw a posman put something on my mailbox. I ignored it at the first, but I'm too curious, so I checked it out. There's my name on the envelope, which is means that the letter is for me. I opened the envelope quickly, then saw a picture of me and that one weird guy, that we took the first time we met. On the back of the pic, there's a beautiful yet messy handwriting, says:
"I found this pic on my bag after we talked to each other during the first break. I don't wanna tell you yet, and I have a reason. I always keep an eye on you, even when you don't see me around. Today, I don't see you, where are you? I hope you did the same thing as I did. Apologize won't works, but still, I'm sorry. I don't know when this would be happens, but see you."
Since that day, I never see him around anymore. I don't know his name, I don't know where does he live, I don't know where does he going, but I hope he still keeps an eye on me, even tho I never see him around anymore.
Author's note: I'm curious to know, where do you think that boy go? 🤔 And what do you think is the reason he didn't tell her about the pic?? 🤔 I think this part is too long, but it'll be fun! (I mean, I hope so 🤐)
#review #kwan #shortstory
AV, is he a human or a ghost? Is he real or Priyakshee's imagination? She claimed that she dreamed of him, kissed him, and walked along with him, but no one else ever met or even saw him. And now, while Priyakshee is missing, her fiance's lawyer is using all kinds of maneuvers to prove that Priyakshee is a patient of Schizophrenia and AV is the imagination of orphan and introvert Priyakshee, who, she thinks is hosting in her fiance Amit’s body without his knowledge. Amit is maligning Priyakshee in court, not to save himself from the charge of killing her, not because she cheated on him, or not because he wants to get rid of her, but because he wants to be with her. For this he will have to rescue her, and it may take decades or even centuries.
#deep #review
Suggest if you like this blurb or if it looses grip over read.
#deep #review
Suggest if you like this blurb or if it looses grip over read.
The slight acne scars. The penny-sized, penny-shaped birthmark right above your knee. The dot below your shoulder that must have been from when you had chicken pox in third grade. The scratch on your neck — did I do that?
This brief transcript of moments, written on the body, is so deeply satisfying to read.
#review #paininlife #Shortthing
This brief transcript of moments, written on the body, is so deeply satisfying to read.
#review #paininlife #Shortthing
#review #quoteforbreakupmotivation
"Instead of waiting for someone else wait for yourself to come back"
"Instead of waiting for someone else wait for yourself to come back"
Love in the Tropical Shade.
In the dying heat of the tropical sun
Under the cool shade of a mango tree,
hearts jumped up and down in joy and fun,
And they felt was a feeling so free.
Withered leaves shook in the wind and fell,
Soon forgotten were heartbreaks of the past.
If their souls spoke they could tell,
That this love was meant to last.
Wiped were the unseen tears,
Of the broken hopes that had flown so often,
their unsaid doubts and fears,
Were suddenly gone and forgotten.
As new leaves sprung from the branches
The lovers shared an embrace in passion,
And gleefully watched the expanse of the ranches
As they graciously enjoyed the overflow of pleasant emotion.
The wind stirred the grass and the dandelions,
And in their chests, hearts jumped and twirled,
Igniting the brevity and courage of the lions.
Now, they felt ready to conquer the world.
As the sun set in the horizon
They realized they would survive any future attack,
Since they had undying love as their weapon,
They just had to have each other's back.
It wasn't much to the eye to have,
albeit to the heart being so priceless.
A precious treasure it was, tropical love,
for it made one feel safe and fearless.
#rocky #poem #review
In the dying heat of the tropical sun
Under the cool shade of a mango tree,
hearts jumped up and down in joy and fun,
And they felt was a feeling so free.
Withered leaves shook in the wind and fell,
Soon forgotten were heartbreaks of the past.
If their souls spoke they could tell,
That this love was meant to last.
Wiped were the unseen tears,
Of the broken hopes that had flown so often,
their unsaid doubts and fears,
Were suddenly gone and forgotten.
As new leaves sprung from the branches
The lovers shared an embrace in passion,
And gleefully watched the expanse of the ranches
As they graciously enjoyed the overflow of pleasant emotion.
The wind stirred the grass and the dandelions,
And in their chests, hearts jumped and twirled,
Igniting the brevity and courage of the lions.
Now, they felt ready to conquer the world.
As the sun set in the horizon
They realized they would survive any future attack,
Since they had undying love as their weapon,
They just had to have each other's back.
It wasn't much to the eye to have,
albeit to the heart being so priceless.
A precious treasure it was, tropical love,
for it made one feel safe and fearless.
#rocky #poem #review
|NOTHING IN PROMPTICULAR|
DAY TEN
CONDITION: Paranormal
PROMPT: She was still blind folded as she felt along the ground, but she could smell the stench…
Flora was in an unfamiliar place. That stench however, revived a dead memory. It was repulsive! Like eggs gone bad in a river of curdled milk. She had been there before…that’s all she knew.
Her attempts at removing the blindfold had failed. In darkness, she groped the smooth pebbles on the ground.
“Flo! Remember!”
She flung some pebbles in frustration.
“Hey! You don’t throw pebbles at people!” Someone snapped back.
Flora stiffened. The lump in her throat kept her from talking.
“Flora! Apologize right this instant!”
“You…you kn..know my n..name?” Flora scooched away from the voice as she spoke.
“Flora now I’m hurt. First you try to stone me and now, you can’t even tell it’s me?” The voice began again, closing what little separation Flora had managed.
“Gra…grandma?”
“Yes! It’s me, your beloved grandmother.” She patted Flora’s head. Just like she used to.
…
“This is a dream. This is a dream! THIS IS A DREAM!” Flora repeated as she scurried out of touch.
“That’s rude and insensitive! You are wishing me away?”
“Grandma I was at your funeral! Did you fake your death?” Flora begun.
“Now you call me dishonest? I regret ever making you cookies.” Granny snapped.
“They were chewy. All the time!” Flora fired back.
Granny gasped, “leave my cookies out of this!” Granny sighed and went on, “Why do millennials say the most hurtful things?”
“Because you guys take us for granted. Even in death I see. I’m legal! I have rights.” Flora answered.
“And why can’t I get this blindfold off?”
“ There’s no blindfold. It’s a simple spell.” Granny admitted.
“Sp….spell?”
“You are special Flora, that’s why we are here.”
“You br…brought me here?”
“Yes dear, there is something I need to teach you.”
...
“Flora. Concentrate. What do you see?”
“Grandma, your spell is over my eyes still. I’m blind!” Flora couldn’t hide her frustration. She was tired, hungry, and probably missing her favorite TV show.
“You don’t need your eyes to see. You have two more chances Flora. Concentrate and tell me what you see” Granny spoke again. More intensely this time.
“I am not doing anything you say!” Flora countered.
“Time is running out!”
“And what do I care?”
“You will find how Ken was killed. You can protect the very few friends you have left!”
Granny's outburst ran chills down Flora’s spine.
“Grandma, How do you know about Ken. You know about his death too?”
“Flora, what do you see?” Granny spoke up with a sense of desperation.
“I…I see pebbles.”
“What else Flora? What else?”
“There are hills, and there’s agony, and there are tears.”
“Now you know where we are. Your last try Flora! Tell me. WHAT DO YOU SEE??”
Flora gasped and fell backwards. Smashing her head into the pebbles. She quaked. She writhed. Pain ran through her body. A moment of stillness and then, A SHRIEK!
“Flora, Flora, now! Tell me! What did you see?”
“Grandma.” Flora began.
“Where were you the night Dad died?”
“Oh I was out of town.” Granny answered… “Flora dear, what did you see?”
“I saw everything Granny. I saw the start. I saw the end.” Flora started.
“You were there that night…”
#MA #review #shortstory
DAY TEN
CONDITION: Paranormal
PROMPT: She was still blind folded as she felt along the ground, but she could smell the stench…
Flora was in an unfamiliar place. That stench however, revived a dead memory. It was repulsive! Like eggs gone bad in a river of curdled milk. She had been there before…that’s all she knew.
Her attempts at removing the blindfold had failed. In darkness, she groped the smooth pebbles on the ground.
“Flo! Remember!”
She flung some pebbles in frustration.
“Hey! You don’t throw pebbles at people!” Someone snapped back.
Flora stiffened. The lump in her throat kept her from talking.
“Flora! Apologize right this instant!”
“You…you kn..know my n..name?” Flora scooched away from the voice as she spoke.
“Flora now I’m hurt. First you try to stone me and now, you can’t even tell it’s me?” The voice began again, closing what little separation Flora had managed.
“Gra…grandma?”
“Yes! It’s me, your beloved grandmother.” She patted Flora’s head. Just like she used to.
…
“This is a dream. This is a dream! THIS IS A DREAM!” Flora repeated as she scurried out of touch.
“That’s rude and insensitive! You are wishing me away?”
“Grandma I was at your funeral! Did you fake your death?” Flora begun.
“Now you call me dishonest? I regret ever making you cookies.” Granny snapped.
“They were chewy. All the time!” Flora fired back.
Granny gasped, “leave my cookies out of this!” Granny sighed and went on, “Why do millennials say the most hurtful things?”
“Because you guys take us for granted. Even in death I see. I’m legal! I have rights.” Flora answered.
“And why can’t I get this blindfold off?”
“ There’s no blindfold. It’s a simple spell.” Granny admitted.
“Sp….spell?”
“You are special Flora, that’s why we are here.”
“You br…brought me here?”
“Yes dear, there is something I need to teach you.”
...
“Flora. Concentrate. What do you see?”
“Grandma, your spell is over my eyes still. I’m blind!” Flora couldn’t hide her frustration. She was tired, hungry, and probably missing her favorite TV show.
“You don’t need your eyes to see. You have two more chances Flora. Concentrate and tell me what you see” Granny spoke again. More intensely this time.
“I am not doing anything you say!” Flora countered.
“Time is running out!”
“And what do I care?”
“You will find how Ken was killed. You can protect the very few friends you have left!”
Granny's outburst ran chills down Flora’s spine.
“Grandma, How do you know about Ken. You know about his death too?”
“Flora, what do you see?” Granny spoke up with a sense of desperation.
“I…I see pebbles.”
“What else Flora? What else?”
“There are hills, and there’s agony, and there are tears.”
“Now you know where we are. Your last try Flora! Tell me. WHAT DO YOU SEE??”
Flora gasped and fell backwards. Smashing her head into the pebbles. She quaked. She writhed. Pain ran through her body. A moment of stillness and then, A SHRIEK!
“Flora, Flora, now! Tell me! What did you see?”
“Grandma.” Flora began.
“Where were you the night Dad died?”
“Oh I was out of town.” Granny answered… “Flora dear, what did you see?”
“I saw everything Granny. I saw the start. I saw the end.” Flora started.
“You were there that night…”
#MA #review #shortstory
#review #poetry #meredith
My body rests on a bed
but mind floats gently across the night sky,
and my soul soon starts to plunge
into the vastness of the universe.
I swim in cosmic dust,
I play with asteroids,
I taste the flavor of comets
and smell the fragance of darkness.
Isn't it paradoxical
that this dark void actually contains everything inside?
I introduce myself to the moons
but they ignore me.
You're too pretentious
-they say.
Only the stars know me well enough
to understand the grieving of my soul.
They wouldn't mock at me,
for they have seen me crying too many times.
Silently I watch the planets
and for a minute I stop to think
that I'm a bit like them:
I'm also orbiting around a glowing incandescent Sun,
but instead, I pay no attention to light
and I chose to focus
on the black background that surrounds me;
a dark infinite that minimizes me,
that reduces me to nothing.
And suddenly the inevitable questions arrive
Who am I in this endless cosmos?
A minuscule particle?
Or am I nothing at all?
I scream my questions to the void with anger
but there's no reply.
I want to know if I'm meaningless,
or if I'm worthy enough to be called
an important part of all this.
My mind and my soul decided then
that was time to come back.
And when they did,
they felt tired of the journey,
my hands felt empty without the answers
and my body felt ordinarily confined.
But I,
I felt infinite.
My body rests on a bed
but mind floats gently across the night sky,
and my soul soon starts to plunge
into the vastness of the universe.
I swim in cosmic dust,
I play with asteroids,
I taste the flavor of comets
and smell the fragance of darkness.
Isn't it paradoxical
that this dark void actually contains everything inside?
I introduce myself to the moons
but they ignore me.
You're too pretentious
-they say.
Only the stars know me well enough
to understand the grieving of my soul.
They wouldn't mock at me,
for they have seen me crying too many times.
Silently I watch the planets
and for a minute I stop to think
that I'm a bit like them:
I'm also orbiting around a glowing incandescent Sun,
but instead, I pay no attention to light
and I chose to focus
on the black background that surrounds me;
a dark infinite that minimizes me,
that reduces me to nothing.
And suddenly the inevitable questions arrive
Who am I in this endless cosmos?
A minuscule particle?
Or am I nothing at all?
I scream my questions to the void with anger
but there's no reply.
I want to know if I'm meaningless,
or if I'm worthy enough to be called
an important part of all this.
My mind and my soul decided then
that was time to come back.
And when they did,
they felt tired of the journey,
my hands felt empty without the answers
and my body felt ordinarily confined.
But I,
I felt infinite.
Walking through the lane, sad faces strikes hard on my heart.
Unfavorable conditions have clutched them in a fist.
Nature is working against them.
Those 'Pani puri' stalls, where happiness and excitement were hovering around all night.
Are vanished now.
Vendor's eyes were down, filled with stress, thought to earn for a living, making it more miserable.
Restaurants are empty.
Roads are empty.
Empty road, empty restaurant and the empty ground is not the place, where I desired to spend my life.
My heart sank.
The city, which is known for its festival, glamour, and food.
Has now, lost its charm.
But, the hope for a normal day is still burning in my heart.
Where I would be able to see happy faces, filled restaurants, excited people, and happiness flowing all over the city.
#review #blownguy #everyone
Unfavorable conditions have clutched them in a fist.
Nature is working against them.
Those 'Pani puri' stalls, where happiness and excitement were hovering around all night.
Are vanished now.
Vendor's eyes were down, filled with stress, thought to earn for a living, making it more miserable.
Restaurants are empty.
Roads are empty.
Empty road, empty restaurant and the empty ground is not the place, where I desired to spend my life.
My heart sank.
The city, which is known for its festival, glamour, and food.
Has now, lost its charm.
But, the hope for a normal day is still burning in my heart.
Where I would be able to see happy faces, filled restaurants, excited people, and happiness flowing all over the city.
#review #blownguy #everyone
#review #poetry
It all collapsed,in a sudden and has
Subsided me down deep in debris.
Pitch blackness throughout,
And fiasco in mind,chaotic voices can be heard,
And mouth full of blood broken teeth and mud.
In greased lightning pace,my heart pumps simultaneously,when
the span of life slumps,
And Yama dances on my head and prepares,
His chariot for my final ride ahead.
I hurl my hands and legs with great clout,
To emerge out,
I want to live,Yama,
I don't want to die yet, I'm young.
I force,press the debris under me,
To help me thrust upward,
I want to emerge free and
I Can no longer breathe easily.
But now,
I've maxed out my efforts,
And the will to endure has drained out too.
The Scot,the King has lost all hopes,
And also the hopes to gain hopes 'new'.
Alas!
I am joining Yama as he finishes the Tandava,
And slowly yet sweetly,my soul will exit
.
Note :Yama is a mythological Hindu God who is considered as God of Death.
It all collapsed,in a sudden and has
Subsided me down deep in debris.
Pitch blackness throughout,
And fiasco in mind,chaotic voices can be heard,
And mouth full of blood broken teeth and mud.
In greased lightning pace,my heart pumps simultaneously,when
the span of life slumps,
And Yama dances on my head and prepares,
His chariot for my final ride ahead.
I hurl my hands and legs with great clout,
To emerge out,
I want to live,Yama,
I don't want to die yet, I'm young.
I force,press the debris under me,
To help me thrust upward,
I want to emerge free and
I Can no longer breathe easily.
But now,
I've maxed out my efforts,
And the will to endure has drained out too.
The Scot,the King has lost all hopes,
And also the hopes to gain hopes 'new'.
Alas!
I am joining Yama as he finishes the Tandava,
And slowly yet sweetly,my soul will exit
.
Note :Yama is a mythological Hindu God who is considered as God of Death.
#microtale #review
There happened to be me, strolling down the road when the rain splashed all over me, and never can I feel more better in such rain. For long time, there has been no rain. Now it has, I felt it in a way to taste and consume every drop of it. I had my old armchair whose edges got wet, shabby smitten with the flunged on dust, parasites who sleep on them. I sat there, watched the street on my half wet chair and almost slept. The first rain. Someone knocked at the door, and when I opened it, it wasn't the usual sales. It was him, the person whom I never can forgive, yet never can forget. He was all so much wet in the rain, I couldn't see the tears in his eyes. Mom was standing besides us. He was trembling, was he from the numbing cold? He sat there, you see, that old sofa, and said in quiet voice. Amisha was so badly mutilated. I tried. The docs tried so bad. I can live without her. But how can I live with her invisible presence, all the time? I looked at my hands, yes, spots of blood, and so can I hear the docs saying I'm beyond saving. I wish I could've been with him. My ex. Bit more. I don't love him anymore. But I remember him always. And that stops me always to be in the solitude of memories.
There happened to be me, strolling down the road when the rain splashed all over me, and never can I feel more better in such rain. For long time, there has been no rain. Now it has, I felt it in a way to taste and consume every drop of it. I had my old armchair whose edges got wet, shabby smitten with the flunged on dust, parasites who sleep on them. I sat there, watched the street on my half wet chair and almost slept. The first rain. Someone knocked at the door, and when I opened it, it wasn't the usual sales. It was him, the person whom I never can forgive, yet never can forget. He was all so much wet in the rain, I couldn't see the tears in his eyes. Mom was standing besides us. He was trembling, was he from the numbing cold? He sat there, you see, that old sofa, and said in quiet voice. Amisha was so badly mutilated. I tried. The docs tried so bad. I can live without her. But how can I live with her invisible presence, all the time? I looked at my hands, yes, spots of blood, and so can I hear the docs saying I'm beyond saving. I wish I could've been with him. My ex. Bit more. I don't love him anymore. But I remember him always. And that stops me always to be in the solitude of memories.
Ravi, the most misinterpreted boy of the class, why you ask?, in graduation when he was in second semester, he had to rewrite the exams because he was suspended on grounds of cheating . How? Another sad story, he asked for a pen from a boy sitting right in front of his desk and the boy had hidden a big note in the pen's body for cheating. Ravi and the boy did not notice and took the pen. Everything went well, he wrote the exam and was confident of getting good marks. When he went to the teacher to submit the sheet, for some damn unfateful reason teacher's pen failed and he asked Ravi for a pen. Ravi not knowing about the hidden note handed him the pen and to his surprise when he was about to sign his sheet the pen opened from the back laying bare the long note prepared for cheating. He tried to explain but the teacher oh for the sake of God! refused to listen and took him to the Head of the Department who expelled him without listening to his side of the story, poor Ravi. Since them his reputation was soiled to be a cheater.
But how do I know so much, well I am his best friend. I have known Ravi for long, he was a thin boy of good height and weight but his bone framework suggested that he could be a good wrestling champion or a good basketball player. Had he been a wrestler he would have been undefeated. Broad shoulders, wide chest, long femur all things suggested that he could be a good wrestler. But nevertheless he was not interested in wrestling.
Having known him for long one thing I had understood. He had a good motivational front because the way he spoke about things with his sparking eyes beaming with confidence reflecting the confidence he had about what he was about to say was marvelous. Besides that he was always there for his friends, offering every help that he could offer and would go great lengths just to make you feel that he is there with you.
I remember visiting his home once. It was a three story structure built in a very shabby appearing and crowded marketplace. He was not from a well versed but a simple family. His family members included two younger sisters and an elder brother, all well educated but their father did not earn much and therefore his house lacked a few things which you would find in a normal household like a washing machine and refrigerator. They lived in a small house with not enough room for everyone. His mother was the sweetest thing, she was very welcoming and generous. With all those hardships , he was still happy to have been able to study always said that he would do something for their family one day. And the ambition he carried that would not wither with time given the confidence and motivation he had.
He shared his room with his brother with a bunker bed which he had outgrown since he was in highschool. and two study tables. Their had their belongings and the posters of Hindu Gods stuck at places where the plaster had come off. But he had dreams and his motivation came from the comic book he read. Superman was his ideal. He would buy each comic book of his favourite superhero and said he likes him for his will of steel and I guess that was his motivation. His brother was preparing for competitive exams so his room was full of books and hence there was little room to keep anything else.
He was a man of great will and any other person who met him was bound to get bowled over given his magical way of speaking. He would spin the web of his words so fine that you couldn't deny his ideology and would definitely want to stay with him for long. Although he was shy at meeting new people, but the moment he would start talking the person in front could only listen and would not be able to speak anything , mesmerized by his way is speaking. I have been his friend for two years and I know he would do great with his life. Given the personal traits he had he could become anything.
#wca #wcb
#TheIngloriuos
#review
But how do I know so much, well I am his best friend. I have known Ravi for long, he was a thin boy of good height and weight but his bone framework suggested that he could be a good wrestling champion or a good basketball player. Had he been a wrestler he would have been undefeated. Broad shoulders, wide chest, long femur all things suggested that he could be a good wrestler. But nevertheless he was not interested in wrestling.
Having known him for long one thing I had understood. He had a good motivational front because the way he spoke about things with his sparking eyes beaming with confidence reflecting the confidence he had about what he was about to say was marvelous. Besides that he was always there for his friends, offering every help that he could offer and would go great lengths just to make you feel that he is there with you.
I remember visiting his home once. It was a three story structure built in a very shabby appearing and crowded marketplace. He was not from a well versed but a simple family. His family members included two younger sisters and an elder brother, all well educated but their father did not earn much and therefore his house lacked a few things which you would find in a normal household like a washing machine and refrigerator. They lived in a small house with not enough room for everyone. His mother was the sweetest thing, she was very welcoming and generous. With all those hardships , he was still happy to have been able to study always said that he would do something for their family one day. And the ambition he carried that would not wither with time given the confidence and motivation he had.
He shared his room with his brother with a bunker bed which he had outgrown since he was in highschool. and two study tables. Their had their belongings and the posters of Hindu Gods stuck at places where the plaster had come off. But he had dreams and his motivation came from the comic book he read. Superman was his ideal. He would buy each comic book of his favourite superhero and said he likes him for his will of steel and I guess that was his motivation. His brother was preparing for competitive exams so his room was full of books and hence there was little room to keep anything else.
He was a man of great will and any other person who met him was bound to get bowled over given his magical way of speaking. He would spin the web of his words so fine that you couldn't deny his ideology and would definitely want to stay with him for long. Although he was shy at meeting new people, but the moment he would start talking the person in front could only listen and would not be able to speak anything , mesmerized by his way is speaking. I have been his friend for two years and I know he would do great with his life. Given the personal traits he had he could become anything.
#wca #wcb
#TheIngloriuos
#review
I wanna go back
...........................
I wanna go back, back to the
Back to the sunshine and golden hay
On my fathers shoulder soaked up in awe
Waving my hand to that airplane miles above
In all that I have seen so near or far
I miss my mothers hands through my hair
It seemed like a good idea, this growing up
But now it seems this trophy is just an empty cup
When my sister kissed my cheek
After I stole chocolates from the fridge
Running off with my brother to the movies
A penny on the street felt like i am goddamn rich
Oh I wanna go back to the good old days
Sitting with my friends by the lake after school
Skipping stones over the water for hours on an end
Or dancing without a care when I was surrounded by friends
That childhood was gold, oh wouldnt you say
How time stole it from me with every birthday
Now I am just an old man who walks alone with a cane
Sitting by the window, waiting for the angel to take me away
#The_Lost_Poet
#review
...........................
I wanna go back, back to the
Back to the sunshine and golden hay
On my fathers shoulder soaked up in awe
Waving my hand to that airplane miles above
In all that I have seen so near or far
I miss my mothers hands through my hair
It seemed like a good idea, this growing up
But now it seems this trophy is just an empty cup
When my sister kissed my cheek
After I stole chocolates from the fridge
Running off with my brother to the movies
A penny on the street felt like i am goddamn rich
Oh I wanna go back to the good old days
Sitting with my friends by the lake after school
Skipping stones over the water for hours on an end
Or dancing without a care when I was surrounded by friends
That childhood was gold, oh wouldnt you say
How time stole it from me with every birthday
Now I am just an old man who walks alone with a cane
Sitting by the window, waiting for the angel to take me away
#The_Lost_Poet
#review
#review #poetry #sk
Birds Of Darkness
‘May God protect us,’ the birds of darkness sing, but even they know, there is no such thing.
All of humanity is crying, as their despair seeks the divine, walking slowly on the path of sorrow, the masters desire freedom, at the cost of someone’s doom.
The worthless weep, as the world gets engulfed by war, and money blocks their hearts with a iron bar.
The elders watch as the acid of lies spread over the minds of innocent, influencing them to fight, and the poor have already lost all their rights.
There only lies misery on the surface, and the men who started this all are getting nervous.
The truth lies at the bottom of the ocean, keeping within itself all the betrayals, waiting for its revival.
No one knows when peace will be prominent, as only death seems dominant.
The devil watched this all and cries the tear of joy, as he laughs and grins, enjoying humans commit grave sins.
‘This was better than expected,’ he says, as he watches the humans so naïve dig their own graves.
The crows caw, as they symbolize the deaths of the gods, with their eyes shining in the mist in shroud.
The monsters, taking humans as aliases, walk the earth, and start a new era of distress.
The sun does not shine anymore, disappointed by the actions of the foolish, everyone is colder than the frozen ashes.
The Reaper is busy, reaping infinite souls, the world has already lost all its goals.
The dreams of the innocents are trampled upon, by the selfishness of the rich, may the world get torn apart, never again to be stitched.
The old generation thought only of profit, and the new generation will never know life, the present sufferers have only known hypocrites.
‘May the truth bloom and prosper,’ the birds of darkness wish with a dagger in their beaks, as this the world where the Gods have ceased to exist.
Birds Of Darkness
‘May God protect us,’ the birds of darkness sing, but even they know, there is no such thing.
All of humanity is crying, as their despair seeks the divine, walking slowly on the path of sorrow, the masters desire freedom, at the cost of someone’s doom.
The worthless weep, as the world gets engulfed by war, and money blocks their hearts with a iron bar.
The elders watch as the acid of lies spread over the minds of innocent, influencing them to fight, and the poor have already lost all their rights.
There only lies misery on the surface, and the men who started this all are getting nervous.
The truth lies at the bottom of the ocean, keeping within itself all the betrayals, waiting for its revival.
No one knows when peace will be prominent, as only death seems dominant.
The devil watched this all and cries the tear of joy, as he laughs and grins, enjoying humans commit grave sins.
‘This was better than expected,’ he says, as he watches the humans so naïve dig their own graves.
The crows caw, as they symbolize the deaths of the gods, with their eyes shining in the mist in shroud.
The monsters, taking humans as aliases, walk the earth, and start a new era of distress.
The sun does not shine anymore, disappointed by the actions of the foolish, everyone is colder than the frozen ashes.
The Reaper is busy, reaping infinite souls, the world has already lost all its goals.
The dreams of the innocents are trampled upon, by the selfishness of the rich, may the world get torn apart, never again to be stitched.
The old generation thought only of profit, and the new generation will never know life, the present sufferers have only known hypocrites.
‘May the truth bloom and prosper,’ the birds of darkness wish with a dagger in their beaks, as this the world where the Gods have ceased to exist.
#review #poetry #meredith
My body rests on a bed
but mind floats gently across the night sky,
and my soul soon starts to plunge
into the vastness of the universe.
I swim in cosmic dust,
I play with asteroids,
I taste the flavor of comets
and smell the fragance of darkness.
Isn't it paradoxical
that this dark void actually contains everything inside?
I introduce myself to the moons
but they ignore me.
You're too pretentious
-they say.
Only the stars know me well enough
to understand the grieving of my soul.
They wouldn't mock at me,
for they have seen me crying too many times.
Silently I watch the planets
and for a minute I stop to think
that I'm a bit like them:
I'm also orbiting around a glowing incandescent Sun,
but instead, I pay no attention to light
and I chose to focus
on the black background that surrounds me;
a dark infinite that minimizes me,
that reduces me to nothing.
And suddenly the inevitable questions arrive
Who am I in this endless cosmos?
A minuscule particle?
Or am I nothing at all?
I scream my questions to the void with anger
but there's no reply.
I want to know if I'm meaningless,
or if I'm worthy enough to be called
an important part of all this.
My mind and my soul decided then
that was time to come back.
And when they did,
they felt tired of the journey,
my hands felt empty without the answers
and my body felt ordinarily confined.
But I,
I felt infinite.
My body rests on a bed
but mind floats gently across the night sky,
and my soul soon starts to plunge
into the vastness of the universe.
I swim in cosmic dust,
I play with asteroids,
I taste the flavor of comets
and smell the fragance of darkness.
Isn't it paradoxical
that this dark void actually contains everything inside?
I introduce myself to the moons
but they ignore me.
You're too pretentious
-they say.
Only the stars know me well enough
to understand the grieving of my soul.
They wouldn't mock at me,
for they have seen me crying too many times.
Silently I watch the planets
and for a minute I stop to think
that I'm a bit like them:
I'm also orbiting around a glowing incandescent Sun,
but instead, I pay no attention to light
and I chose to focus
on the black background that surrounds me;
a dark infinite that minimizes me,
that reduces me to nothing.
And suddenly the inevitable questions arrive
Who am I in this endless cosmos?
A minuscule particle?
Or am I nothing at all?
I scream my questions to the void with anger
but there's no reply.
I want to know if I'm meaningless,
or if I'm worthy enough to be called
an important part of all this.
My mind and my soul decided then
that was time to come back.
And when they did,
they felt tired of the journey,
my hands felt empty without the answers
and my body felt ordinarily confined.
But I,
I felt infinite.