distilled_thoughts

Poems, write-ups and quotes that pulled my heartstrings.

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  • distilled_thoughts 16w

    This lake reminds me of Veronica, her blue ocean eyes and the sparkle in them whenever she would sit by this lake. I feel her here more than anywhere else...

    She wasn't someone who catches attention immediately. Veronica was someone who draws you in only when you get to know her. She opens up her depths only when she let's you see. She was just like this hidden lake-serene, deep, mysterious, alive underneath a crystal surface.

    It was during a rainy day, that I first saw her. She was standing at the bus shelter, clutching her tote bag full of books, looking up at the heavens in deep thought. Her face was pretty, but not in a striking way. It was a calm, casual, comfortable prettiness. Her hair lay in a loose braid, a few tendrils escaping the coils of the rope-like tie. I must admit, I never knew I remembered these many details until now, looking back at that moment I never believed to change so much for me.

    We didn't talk that day, Veronica and I. We just stood there, in comfortable silence, waited out the rain and left our own ways. We met again a week later, near a coffee shop. Smiling our recognition, we again parted ways. It was only after half a dozen of such brief run-ins did we actually speak to each other.

    I was browsing at a new book store, when I heard footsteps from behind. I turned to see the now familiar brunette walking towards me, smiling. I smiled back, expecting her to walk past me. But she stopped in front of me, extended her hand and said, "Hi, I'm Veronica."

    That day we spoke of so many things. It was as if we had known each other long. We weren't two strangers making new friends, we were two individuals unearthing a bond that was already there.

    She was a medical student with a passion for literature. She spoke of her favourite poets, novels and dissected them with surgical precision, explain to me the intricacies of what made them masterpieces. I listened engrossed as if I was witnessing the most fascinating thing for the first time. It was always like this when she spoke. Her words swallowed me whole, her eyes drew me in, till I drowned in its blue depths, forgetting this world.

    We grew closer and closer every time we met. Once she invited me to her most favourite place. We trekked for about an hour before we reached this blue patch of heaven. This lake I sit watching now. Its not vast, yet its neither tiny. It was just the right size. Blue water eluding tranquility as it lay there meditating with the sky.

    There was a tree trunk lying on its shore, wide enough for both of us to sit. Veronica walked up to it, sat down and patted the space beside her. I did not require another invitation. I went and sat beside her as we drank in the peace around us. It was forty years ago.

    It was on the same tree trunk that Veronica sat, when I proposed to her a year after. It was by the same lake we spent our summers every year, until last year. This lake saw our life together, drank in our joys and drowned our sorrows, watered our dreams and washed our disappointments. This lake is in many ways our own.

    I know this is where Veronica visits every night now. She had shed her body that had gracefully wrinkled. She must now have taken her eternally youthful form, gliding over this lake, resting on the tree trunk at times. I feel her presence even now, just beside me. I sense her lilac scent rising from the lake's depths. She's calling on to me.

    "Veronica, I'm coming."
    I stand up, dust my pants off, as I walk towards the lake smiling. I didn't stop when the gentle waves of Lake touch my shoes. I walk right into the lake, smiling all along. I know Veronica is there, waiting for me.

    ©distilled_thoughts
    #storytime #wod #lovestory
    @mirakee @writersnetwork @a_gentilischi @theinkdomain

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    By this Lake

    ©distilled_thoughts

  • distilled_thoughts 18w

    Once Upon a Time...

    Once upon a time,
    In a kingdom called the mind,
    There bloomed a flower- sweet and beautiful.

    Spreading it petals,
    It yawned out fragrance,
    Wafting in the air- a wondrous memory.

    ©distilled_thoughts

  • distilled_thoughts 18w

    During long drives
    Stretching for miles,
    Tiring before the destination,
    It is not an uncommon sight.

    Ruins of some building
    Always find a spot
    On the landscape of a travel,
    Inviting the beholder to time travel.

    A capsule of moments lived in,
    A casket of memories treasured,
    A worn-out world in this weary world,
    With souls preserved in crumbling stones.

    Despite their sorry shape,
    Prideful they stand,
    Full of character,
    Luminous with their dulled paint.

    ©distilled_thoughts

  • distilled_thoughts 19w

    Scribbling one line,
    Scratching it out,
    Shaking the head,
    "No, no, that's not the right word!"

    Looking into the space,
    Getting absorbed by a fly on the wall,
    Letting the pen fall off the hand,
    Crashing down to reality,
    Hearing the clatter of the stylo on the floor.

    The desk is scattered with paper,
    Ransacked throughly,
    Just like the brain for the perfect word,
    Crumpled bits of white papyrus
    Littered around, the chair an island
    Amid the sea of rejected writing.

    The castaway sits alone,
    Searching his way around,
    From his thought to his work,
    Scratching his pen across white paper.

    The writer still struggles,
    Across the sifting folds of his memories,
    To breathe life into inanimate thoughts,
    To chart his journey to meaning, to art.

    ©distilled_thoughts

  • distilled_thoughts 20w

    Ticking away in silence,
    Seventy-two beats per minute,
    The dual hands struggle
    To match a mad pace,
    The invisible pendulum swings,
    From this thought to the next,
    Seeking opportunities everywhere,
    To extend the draining batteries.

    The walking clock Marches on,
    Ticking each day away,
    On a pre-scheduled pace
    Not pausing, not slowing.


    ©distilled_thoughts

  • distilled_thoughts 20w

    Looking up at the morning sun,
    Brighter than the stars of night,
    Her face glows with serenity,
    Radiating her calm contentment
    As she stands there, atop the hill.

    Winds whisper secrets in her ears,
    Widening her smile inch by inch,
    Playing with her flowing hair,
    The mountain breeze stays around
    Keeping her company, atop the hill.

    Below her lay the valley, her village,
    Tiny dots housing families for generations,
    Her almond eyes surveyed them,
    Mapping in her mind her beloved place,
    As she stood there, atop the hill.

    Her elegant, angular nose lifted high,
    She breathed in freedom,
    She smelled the scent of life
    Wafting around her and from her,
    As she stood, atop the hill.

    In the morning sun,
    As she stood there,
    Her face shone angelic,
    A village belle, she was,
    Gifted with life and simple joys.

    ©distilled_thoughts

    A tad late for the #face challenge but anyway, Here it goes..

    @writersnetwork @mirakee @a_gentilischi @theinkdomain

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    ©distilled_thoughts

  • distilled_thoughts 21w

    Why do you villains taunt me?
    Robbing my peace,
    Looting my sleep,
    Leaving behind ravages of sweat,
    Scars of tears across my face?

    Suffocating darkness fog
    Looming around my bed,
    Cutting it out from safety's continent,
    I lay helpless, drifting along,
    On an island of nightmares.

    For nights in row, you raid my mind,
    Screens playing and replaying scenes
    Screams building in my throat and dying
    As hoards of your troops plague,
    Wrecking havoc till dawn.

    ©distilled_thoughts

    #nightmare #wod #dreams
    #ceesreposts #reposts #pod

    @mirakee @writersnetwork @a_gentilischi @theinkdomain @fromwitchpen

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    Army of Nightmares

    ©distilled_thoughts

  • distilled_thoughts 21w

    An archipelago of dreams
    Lining my mindscape,
    Gliterring and glistening green,
    In a sea of grey & blue.

    ©distilled_thoughts

  • distilled_thoughts 22w

    Poems are mosaics made of broken pieces of heart,
    Gleaming in colours of palette of emotions,
    Blue, white, bright red and green.

    Pictures they create, lyrical and poignant,
    Shattered pieces decorate the walls of the soul,
    Cracks filled with plaster of words,
    Glued together with sheer will to live.

    Poems are mosaics made of broke pieces of heart,
    Proving that broken things become art too,
    Cracks running like veins carrying wisdom,
    Capture love, betrayal, trust, friendship, happiness and sorrow,
    With broken pieces irregular and misshapen forms the picture of life.

    ©distilled_thoughts

    #mosaic #wod
    #emotions #life #poetry
    #ceesreposts #reposts #pod
    @mirakee @writersnetwork @a_gentilischi @theinkdomain @childauthor_345

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    Mosaic of life

    ©distilled_thoughts

  • distilled_thoughts 22w

    Word Prompt:

    Write a 8 word short tale on Ungrateful

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    One smile, promises of silence flew - ungrateful heart.