EAVESDROPPING
The banal, midnight architecture of this
high-rise building suddenly enlivened by
the inspired sounds of crashing saucers
followed by the raised, accusative tone
of a man in rage, matched sharply by a
feminine voice, quivering & high-pitched,
in turn, the machine gun of their mouths
firing everywhere and nowhere, invisible
blood splattered across the living room
walls; after about ten minutes, a low hush
descends upon the floor, and one hears
only the occasional screech of an elevator
ferrying the late-night home comers up and
down the apartment, like a weaving loom
shuttle, even as the wounded couple curl up
to their separate beds, tossing and turning
uneasily, each unsure, whether to regard
all of this as a proof of love or its absence.
#review
The banal, midnight architecture of this
high-rise building suddenly enlivened by
the inspired sounds of crashing saucers
followed by the raised, accusative tone
of a man in rage, matched sharply by a
feminine voice, quivering & high-pitched,
in turn, the machine gun of their mouths
firing everywhere and nowhere, invisible
blood splattered across the living room
walls; after about ten minutes, a low hush
descends upon the floor, and one hears
only the occasional screech of an elevator
ferrying the late-night home comers up and
down the apartment, like a weaving loom
shuttle, even as the wounded couple curl up
to their separate beds, tossing and turning
uneasily, each unsure, whether to regard
all of this as a proof of love or its absence.
#review
She had new red shoes and egyptian eyes;
and my heart.
She liked poems & chocolates & surprises;
and my smile.
She wore a blouse that matched her shoes and eyes;
and she . . . was married
#review
and my heart.
She liked poems & chocolates & surprises;
and my smile.
She wore a blouse that matched her shoes and eyes;
and she . . . was married
#review
WORLD MAP
May night. Outside, the dark storm prowls
like a border patrol van.
I sleep uneasily, my eyes fall on the world
map, hung in the living room wall.
And lo !
All the continents have disappeared,
carried away like autumn leaves.
The oceans are now oceans of absence,
and this entire map - a map of ghostly emptiness.
Full of terror and dread inside, I drag
myself closer to that naked map, put my ears to it.
And straining hard, I heard again that deep
ancient humming filling a mother’s womb,
the same humming that holds together the oceans.
Geography blurred into pre-history blurred
into biology.
Just that humming, some sort of a starting point.
#review #fz #poetry
May night. Outside, the dark storm prowls
like a border patrol van.
I sleep uneasily, my eyes fall on the world
map, hung in the living room wall.
And lo !
All the continents have disappeared,
carried away like autumn leaves.
The oceans are now oceans of absence,
and this entire map - a map of ghostly emptiness.
Full of terror and dread inside, I drag
myself closer to that naked map, put my ears to it.
And straining hard, I heard again that deep
ancient humming filling a mother’s womb,
the same humming that holds together the oceans.
Geography blurred into pre-history blurred
into biology.
Just that humming, some sort of a starting point.
#review #fz #poetry
You push me up to explore the highs,
And drag me down to search the lows,
When I'm tired and think it's enough,
You come up again with so much more,
Why do I need the highs and lows,
To live and be noticed and to fit.
I don't wanna fly or don't wanna dig in,
I just want a little ground to sit.
I wanna gaze the blue sky and feel the green grass,
Instead of chasing them because you want,
I want my little life to be a sweet lullaby,
Not a dreadful dream that haunts.
The intermediate makes me happy,
I feel beautiful being average among all,
No hell no heaven is what I need,
I just need ground to have a good stroll.
#review
#poetry
#maans
@IWRITESOMTIMES
And drag me down to search the lows,
When I'm tired and think it's enough,
You come up again with so much more,
Why do I need the highs and lows,
To live and be noticed and to fit.
I don't wanna fly or don't wanna dig in,
I just want a little ground to sit.
I wanna gaze the blue sky and feel the green grass,
Instead of chasing them because you want,
I want my little life to be a sweet lullaby,
Not a dreadful dream that haunts.
The intermediate makes me happy,
I feel beautiful being average among all,
No hell no heaven is what I need,
I just need ground to have a good stroll.
#review
#poetry
#maans
@IWRITESOMTIMES
There are a few ancient lakes exist somewhere on earth, governed by a very specific and fearful shoal of fish. No one cared to clean the lakes for millennia, and the entire school of fish was taught to live inside those lakes and love the pond they belong to. If a fish somehow happened to clean the pond, despite all the resistance, it shall then be required to dig a tunnel that'd connect the pond with the river and eventually to the sea and then the ocean. Why? To maintain the sanctity of water and the life that dwells in it, a purpose more prominent than the lake itself. Water with no medium to flow through collects dirt, breeds disease causing insects, and eventually dries out with time.
Now, if the lakes are still considered "holistic" regardless of how filthy they have become over time, the creatures living inside the lakes will eventually become immune to it. Over time, no one will realize the toxicity they live in and that there's a whole different dimension to the quality of life way beyond those lakes.
If somehow managed to escape the pond, a few creatures unquestionably create a possibility for others to create a life full of freedom, like Nemo and Dory. But such creatures are endangered because the danger is always great for fish that directly challenge the status quo. Despite all the challenges, the age-old altruistic creation drives a few fish to do their bit to bring the much-needed transformation in their surroundings.
Creating a tunnel and connecting the lake to the river, the sea, and eventually to the oceans will open a whole different world to swim through and explore the vastness of consciousness and the life where consciousness resides.
#review #philosophy
Now, if the lakes are still considered "holistic" regardless of how filthy they have become over time, the creatures living inside the lakes will eventually become immune to it. Over time, no one will realize the toxicity they live in and that there's a whole different dimension to the quality of life way beyond those lakes.
If somehow managed to escape the pond, a few creatures unquestionably create a possibility for others to create a life full of freedom, like Nemo and Dory. But such creatures are endangered because the danger is always great for fish that directly challenge the status quo. Despite all the challenges, the age-old altruistic creation drives a few fish to do their bit to bring the much-needed transformation in their surroundings.
Creating a tunnel and connecting the lake to the river, the sea, and eventually to the oceans will open a whole different world to swim through and explore the vastness of consciousness and the life where consciousness resides.
#review #philosophy
#review #iwritesometimes #loverhyme
I met a girl who was like an open book,
Wanting to be read from the very start,
Someone who’d flick through her every page ,
And tie again the strings of her very heart,
So I peeked into her ribcage,
Holding my brittle pieces in my hands,
From the girl I once gave my heart to,
My soul’s revolt who could never understand
We were both left with empty spaces,
Within us our past self was no more,
And we let our souls feel each other's touch,
Like waves embracing the sea shore
She kept spilling out all her stories,
Until She melted from head to her toes,
And I stood ablaze before her eyes,
With no judgement or asking the cause
Too soon she ran out of paper and ink,
But her words found a home on the skin of mine,
As she inked down her final story,
With the love that poured down my spine
Together we learnt a lesson,
Of how sometimes things fall apart,
To make way for better things,
Which leaves a solid thud on your heart
So next time when the rain hits the ground,
Do not run reaching out for cover,
Just stand and smell the petrichor,
You'll find an umbrella held by a broken lover !
~ IWRITESOMETIMES | Maansi :)
I love you Maansi :)
@Maansiibajaj
I met a girl who was like an open book,
Wanting to be read from the very start,
Someone who’d flick through her every page ,
And tie again the strings of her very heart,
So I peeked into her ribcage,
Holding my brittle pieces in my hands,
From the girl I once gave my heart to,
My soul’s revolt who could never understand
We were both left with empty spaces,
Within us our past self was no more,
And we let our souls feel each other's touch,
Like waves embracing the sea shore
She kept spilling out all her stories,
Until She melted from head to her toes,
And I stood ablaze before her eyes,
With no judgement or asking the cause
Too soon she ran out of paper and ink,
But her words found a home on the skin of mine,
As she inked down her final story,
With the love that poured down my spine
Together we learnt a lesson,
Of how sometimes things fall apart,
To make way for better things,
Which leaves a solid thud on your heart
So next time when the rain hits the ground,
Do not run reaching out for cover,
Just stand and smell the petrichor,
You'll find an umbrella held by a broken lover !
~ IWRITESOMETIMES | Maansi :)
I love you Maansi :)
@Maansiibajaj
Feelings
Feelings;sometimes mixed while sometimes crystal clear,
Sometimes genuine while sometimes made up,
But for u they were always there,
And will stay there forever.
Even if u rip off my heart,
Still it will feel for u,
And will continue to feel,
Till the very second it stops to beat.
The moment it stops to beat,
Just conclude that u scribbled on the pages of my life,
By the pen of your apathy,
With my blood in lieu of the ink.
In the way the worth of a book can't be determined,
Solely by its mere cover,
Similarly the amount of pain can't be determined,
By merely reading a poem composed by a broken lover.
#review #San #poetry
Feelings;sometimes mixed while sometimes crystal clear,
Sometimes genuine while sometimes made up,
But for u they were always there,
And will stay there forever.
Even if u rip off my heart,
Still it will feel for u,
And will continue to feel,
Till the very second it stops to beat.
The moment it stops to beat,
Just conclude that u scribbled on the pages of my life,
By the pen of your apathy,
With my blood in lieu of the ink.
In the way the worth of a book can't be determined,
Solely by its mere cover,
Similarly the amount of pain can't be determined,
By merely reading a poem composed by a broken lover.
#review #San #poetry
Tree of Spirits
There is a world far beyond our own,
Where there is a tree and not a soul.
Planted on the dark side of the horizon
It harbors the spirits lost in tragedies
Struggling to find a place in Heaven.
When the moon sneaks above the sky
Looking like a black orb without radiance,
Looms out of the dark clouds with a sneer,
Then the tree glows in vibrant colors
With smoky hues of red, green and blue
Forming a grim nimbus around it.
This grotesque spectacle is conjured
By the occult of witches and warlocks
For the souls try to take forms of the past
In a hellish way to liberate themselves
From the leash of branches entwined
Within the hideous trunk from which
Beautiful faces and rotten skulls and
Mortified eyes peer into the darkness
In a despairing search for a glimpse
Of something that breathes.
(c) Amit Herlekar
#freeverse #review
There is a world far beyond our own,
Where there is a tree and not a soul.
Planted on the dark side of the horizon
It harbors the spirits lost in tragedies
Struggling to find a place in Heaven.
When the moon sneaks above the sky
Looking like a black orb without radiance,
Looms out of the dark clouds with a sneer,
Then the tree glows in vibrant colors
With smoky hues of red, green and blue
Forming a grim nimbus around it.
This grotesque spectacle is conjured
By the occult of witches and warlocks
For the souls try to take forms of the past
In a hellish way to liberate themselves
From the leash of branches entwined
Within the hideous trunk from which
Beautiful faces and rotten skulls and
Mortified eyes peer into the darkness
In a despairing search for a glimpse
Of something that breathes.
(c) Amit Herlekar
#freeverse #review
THE PAWPAW TREE
Outside my window
I see a burdened tree with fruity dreams.
With a billion places to go yet rooted in one spot.
Its pain, its stunted spine.
Bent by the weights that alleviate another's pains.
I see it's sweat, I see its tears.
Sticky white snakes gliding down it's sides.
I see the curse of abundance.
The tears of the blessed
Enveloped in the darkness of isolation.
Waiting for the one in the shade to offer a trade of place.
Hoping someone would understand.
Hoping one would care.
Outside my window, I see myself.
Maybe in another world.
But still,
I see a burdened tree with fruity dreams.
With a billion places to go yet rooted in one spot.
#MA #poetry #review
Outside my window
I see a burdened tree with fruity dreams.
With a billion places to go yet rooted in one spot.
Its pain, its stunted spine.
Bent by the weights that alleviate another's pains.
I see it's sweat, I see its tears.
Sticky white snakes gliding down it's sides.
I see the curse of abundance.
The tears of the blessed
Enveloped in the darkness of isolation.
Waiting for the one in the shade to offer a trade of place.
Hoping someone would understand.
Hoping one would care.
Outside my window, I see myself.
Maybe in another world.
But still,
I see a burdened tree with fruity dreams.
With a billion places to go yet rooted in one spot.
#MA #poetry #review
~MUM~
I held her hand, and she looked at me with awe
I would paint my handprints on every wall I'd know
Spring and autumn, around the changing seasons i grew
She kept me in her arms and all my dreams came true
Kissed my palm, before she sang me to sleep
They say "Nothing lasts forver", but her love was way too deep
I was all grown up, didn't need her help to cross the street,
my friends would all laugh,
as if holding her hand was my greatest defeat
I'd ask her to leave, if anywhere I was near my school,
She asked why, and I told her it doesn't look very cool,
I cared a lot about what "somebody" would say,
but it was her who taught me, that "somebody" was just me
I sat by her side, and our hands are of the same size,
but her knuckles are all pale, and it leaves me with a teary eye
Her fingers would all swell, as the winter air grew cold,
In all these years, she gave her hands too much to hold,
One day, i found those handprints i made when i was two
Wish I could go back, when her hands were the only thing i knew.
~HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY :)
#review
#poem
#mothersday
I held her hand, and she looked at me with awe
I would paint my handprints on every wall I'd know
Spring and autumn, around the changing seasons i grew
She kept me in her arms and all my dreams came true
Kissed my palm, before she sang me to sleep
They say "Nothing lasts forver", but her love was way too deep
I was all grown up, didn't need her help to cross the street,
my friends would all laugh,
as if holding her hand was my greatest defeat
I'd ask her to leave, if anywhere I was near my school,
She asked why, and I told her it doesn't look very cool,
I cared a lot about what "somebody" would say,
but it was her who taught me, that "somebody" was just me
I sat by her side, and our hands are of the same size,
but her knuckles are all pale, and it leaves me with a teary eye
Her fingers would all swell, as the winter air grew cold,
In all these years, she gave her hands too much to hold,
One day, i found those handprints i made when i was two
Wish I could go back, when her hands were the only thing i knew.
~HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY :)
#review
#poem
#mothersday
The Mysterious Voice
Lying under the scintillating Moon,
I heard dulcet tones from a distant,
An ethereal voice of a soprano,
Of what the stars being a testament.
The susurrus of the zephyr,
That conflated with the frequencies of the voice,
Adorning the beauty of the melody,
Leaving me with an ephemeral rejoice.
I proceeded to follow the origin,
Before it began to become evanescent,
And I froze for a second to what was overwhelming,
Being a victim of such an idyllic event.
Soon when the aurora arrived,
And the sunlight aurified the dark realm of the sky,
It was me who was still wondering,
To what was rather difficult to deny.
Was it a beautiful dream?
Or was it true?
As I sat there wondering,
Until the darkness further grew.
#review #poetry #San
Lying under the scintillating Moon,
I heard dulcet tones from a distant,
An ethereal voice of a soprano,
Of what the stars being a testament.
The susurrus of the zephyr,
That conflated with the frequencies of the voice,
Adorning the beauty of the melody,
Leaving me with an ephemeral rejoice.
I proceeded to follow the origin,
Before it began to become evanescent,
And I froze for a second to what was overwhelming,
Being a victim of such an idyllic event.
Soon when the aurora arrived,
And the sunlight aurified the dark realm of the sky,
It was me who was still wondering,
To what was rather difficult to deny.
Was it a beautiful dream?
Or was it true?
As I sat there wondering,
Until the darkness further grew.
#review #poetry #San
Bottled lightening, fallen stars,
Dancing butterflies and singing soul,
What are these little half expressions,
To express your love so fulfilling and whole.
I'm pouring ink like a maniac,
For a love that made me sane,
Loving in my intermediate ways,
Forgetting the boon or bane.
I'll pour till my paper is all wet,
And with it I'll wipe your dry hand,
Stain you in my transparent ink,
In colors only we will Bottled lightening, fallen stars,
Dancing butterflies and singing soul,
What are these little half expressions,
To express your love so fulfilling and whole.
I'm pouring ink like a maniac,
For a love that made me sane,
Loving in my intermediate ways,
Forgetting the boon or bane.
I'll pour till my paper is all wet,
And with it I'll wipe your dry hand,
Stain you in my transparent ink,
In colors only we will understandunderstand
~ Maansi
#review
#poetry
#maans
Dancing butterflies and singing soul,
What are these little half expressions,
To express your love so fulfilling and whole.
I'm pouring ink like a maniac,
For a love that made me sane,
Loving in my intermediate ways,
Forgetting the boon or bane.
I'll pour till my paper is all wet,
And with it I'll wipe your dry hand,
Stain you in my transparent ink,
In colors only we will Bottled lightening, fallen stars,
Dancing butterflies and singing soul,
What are these little half expressions,
To express your love so fulfilling and whole.
I'm pouring ink like a maniac,
For a love that made me sane,
Loving in my intermediate ways,
Forgetting the boon or bane.
I'll pour till my paper is all wet,
And with it I'll wipe your dry hand,
Stain you in my transparent ink,
In colors only we will understandunderstand
~ Maansi
#review
#poetry
#maans
I met a girl who was like the shameplant,
Delicate to touch but pleasant to look at,
As we together kept aside our past selves,
And walked on the beach with the sunset.
Her innocent eyes reflected secrets,
That she kept with her as she grew,
Little did I know,
What she had went through.
Her heart strings were like that of guitar,
Waiting for someone who can strum it the right way,
And fill colors in her life,
That was once painted with grey.
Being engaged in a conflict with my mind,
My soul was stuck at one end,
Leaving me all alone baffled,
With a broken heart to mend.
We both had bad past experiences,
But we had a future ahead to secure,
Of all those unseen & untouched wounds that ever existed,
Love being a medicine to cure.
Eventually she began to open up,
As I handed over my tiny fragile pieces to her,
On the pillar of trust that we had cemented,
She gave her hands in mine with pleasure.
#review #San #poetry
Delicate to touch but pleasant to look at,
As we together kept aside our past selves,
And walked on the beach with the sunset.
Her innocent eyes reflected secrets,
That she kept with her as she grew,
Little did I know,
What she had went through.
Her heart strings were like that of guitar,
Waiting for someone who can strum it the right way,
And fill colors in her life,
That was once painted with grey.
Being engaged in a conflict with my mind,
My soul was stuck at one end,
Leaving me all alone baffled,
With a broken heart to mend.
We both had bad past experiences,
But we had a future ahead to secure,
Of all those unseen & untouched wounds that ever existed,
Love being a medicine to cure.
Eventually she began to open up,
As I handed over my tiny fragile pieces to her,
On the pillar of trust that we had cemented,
She gave her hands in mine with pleasure.
#review #San #poetry
#review #woeisme
WOE IS ME.
Life seems bewildering like a maze. Some instances feel ravishing and some in the arms of haze.I keep pondering when is this supposed to cease, when will i fade.
Can't bear the thoughts of the morrow,They intimidate like a tempestuous wave.
Where is the balm of my woe?
Was i not fit for destines grace?
I wholly yearn to relish life's melody,did i sound too
profane ?
Before long i came across a stranger in a cerebral lane, His mouth was open ...he was nothing but bones, trying to say something but all i heard were groans.
He finally told me he was running from woe never to realise how old he did grow.I scrutinized closely,a likeness did i see ...did not want to give in but ohh it was me.
WOE IS ME.
Life seems bewildering like a maze. Some instances feel ravishing and some in the arms of haze.I keep pondering when is this supposed to cease, when will i fade.
Can't bear the thoughts of the morrow,They intimidate like a tempestuous wave.
Where is the balm of my woe?
Was i not fit for destines grace?
I wholly yearn to relish life's melody,did i sound too
profane ?
Before long i came across a stranger in a cerebral lane, His mouth was open ...he was nothing but bones, trying to say something but all i heard were groans.
He finally told me he was running from woe never to realise how old he did grow.I scrutinized closely,a likeness did i see ...did not want to give in but ohh it was me.
Title: "War" :(
War could make you feel deterred,
It could wreck your whole world.
War between two nations,
War between two communities,
War between two thoughts.
War could snatch your identity,
It could sieze your entity.
Many children grew up without their fathers,
Wives left alone, insurance salesman became rocket launchers.
Artists lost their existence,
All were the aftermaths of war.
Children lost their parents,
Amateurs lived lives of paupers.
People lost God's grace,
Noncombatant strayed from their residence.
Hospitals became prayer halls.
Cementries listened wails,
What not?!
War is the result of incessant hostile thoughts,
Million more innocents, million more onslaughts.
Yes, we got praised.
Got praised for what?!
Winning war or loosing trust.
As all wars are civil wars first.
Because all men are brothers.
Even after several years,
We are unable to free ourselves,
from the shackles of distress.
War is nothing but a cowardly escape,
from the problems of calmness.
#review
#rks
#poetry
War could make you feel deterred,
It could wreck your whole world.
War between two nations,
War between two communities,
War between two thoughts.
War could snatch your identity,
It could sieze your entity.
Many children grew up without their fathers,
Wives left alone, insurance salesman became rocket launchers.
Artists lost their existence,
All were the aftermaths of war.
Children lost their parents,
Amateurs lived lives of paupers.
People lost God's grace,
Noncombatant strayed from their residence.
Hospitals became prayer halls.
Cementries listened wails,
What not?!
War is the result of incessant hostile thoughts,
Million more innocents, million more onslaughts.
Yes, we got praised.
Got praised for what?!
Winning war or loosing trust.
As all wars are civil wars first.
Because all men are brothers.
Even after several years,
We are unable to free ourselves,
from the shackles of distress.
War is nothing but a cowardly escape,
from the problems of calmness.
#review
#rks
#poetry
Nam Goongmin has long lost his child. It was mandatory; was never his choice. Things escalated so quickly, in matters of seconds his life turned upside down, four seasons all at once. The laughter, the exuberance, the elation, the melancholy, the sorrow, the anguish, the angst, and the anger. Feeling the fiery heat of an enkindled inner flame, even death will never be able to extinguish, is his new feeling; he can no longer get rid of. Miscarriage of justice and conviction of crimes he never committed weren't enough to ruin his life, they took it further, killing his mother and burning her alive. Fire can be fatal and so are knives, whereby his wife was killed. It didn't end there tho, entering a room but finding an empty crib was last anticipated thing; newborn baby, Jaemin, now is gone.
It was then the end of Nam Goongmin. But the beginning of *Războinic* or *Răzbunător* maybe both, after all they are the same person but different peraonas. It was the end of his well scripted tragedy; his excruciatingly painful experience, however vowing in silent is no longer fervour to avenge the murders. With outrage and disbelief combined it was the birth of a serial killer.
Na Jaemin is back as a detective, with first given case, was exposing the true identity of the mysterious killer. Will our young boy then be an exemplary detective, by helping solve a violent crime spree? Or will he fail his first given case, by being an exemplary son?
*NB* This part is reserved only to give readers a great insight on how the story will unfold. It's a plot summary, that's why it's kept short, brief and murky.
#review
#novel
It was then the end of Nam Goongmin. But the beginning of *Războinic* or *Răzbunător* maybe both, after all they are the same person but different peraonas. It was the end of his well scripted tragedy; his excruciatingly painful experience, however vowing in silent is no longer fervour to avenge the murders. With outrage and disbelief combined it was the birth of a serial killer.
Na Jaemin is back as a detective, with first given case, was exposing the true identity of the mysterious killer. Will our young boy then be an exemplary detective, by helping solve a violent crime spree? Or will he fail his first given case, by being an exemplary son?
*NB* This part is reserved only to give readers a great insight on how the story will unfold. It's a plot summary, that's why it's kept short, brief and murky.
#review
#novel
Sighs
How many starved and became bones
to make the wall this hard
How many aged and turned drooped
to keep the roof this high
How many died and were buried
for the floor to be this wide
#AhmadMusa #review #poem
How many starved and became bones
to make the wall this hard
How many aged and turned drooped
to keep the roof this high
How many died and were buried
for the floor to be this wide
#AhmadMusa #review #poem