You are truly a great writer. I am compiler and a writer too. I am compiling an anthology named 'Unconditional Love'. If you are interested to be a co author then do response. Trust me you won't regret. If u are interested then ping me soon on Instagram @poet_spring_
noreenrborooahHey, Just came across your page and must say it's very very impressive and inspiring❤ Well I'd like to invite you to a compilation. And I'd be glad to help you publish your writings in my book ❣ If you're interested please let me know. Dm me on Instagram-@heartsplt (link in bio) And we'll be glad to hear from you❤
I don't exactly remember when was the last time I got drenched in rain.. Earlier, every time when the rain showered on me, I always felt good and happy about it.. But today, it was different.. When I got stuck in there nd all my cloths got wet, I felt some kind of clinginess towards my wet soul.. I felt like the drops rolling is taking down all my fears, my sorrows.. It felt like my disheartened soul is getting cleaned and clear about what has already happend in my life, and about what I want to have now.. It felt same as the earth getting washed away from the pollution and a clear sky can be seen, soon after the rain ends.. Nature teaches us lessons so pure and beautiful, with so much ease that it get pinned inside us.. We just need to let it sink in.. Today, I literally danced in the rain and now I feel alive again.. I feel, now I can write a long story about the renaissance of a dead soul, a story about the rebirth of the nature each time the rain showers.. _____________________________________________________________
The rose petals in my journal have dried into shades of brown and your photographs in my drawers haven't tasted air for years now.. Your fragrance is now fading from that jacket of yours, but our memories still stains my soul.. Your imprints left on my heart, gets a little dark at the night time, the giggles, and the smiles, and the tears, and those cries still crawl my ears.. Though I still smile..
I grew daisies and sunflowers in your heart and watered them all winter only to lose them into the fall season.. The fall of my heart and love.. The fall which once broke me into pieces, and continued that agony till I found my solitude.. That melancholy, engraved into my soul to a depth of self hatred, but then I realized..
Love, like silence is sometimes too comforting, especially when you have been subject to chaotic wars in past.. It makes you rethink and relive, reevaluate the reasons of fights and reweave the unreeled soul.. It builds you for yourself, for peace and for satisfaction..
Love, like silence is sometimes collecting the broken pieces and fixing it into more beautiful art piece called life.. The cracks in it resembles your struggles and your failures, and the story of your renaissance..
I borrowed a handful of blue sky from my last lover and safeguarded it, as mine.. I thought, "WE created" a REALM of 0UR FANTASIES, a W0RLD of 0UR DESIRES and a KINGD0M of 0UR L0VE, beneath that blue sky..
But now, when i look back to the fading memories of my last love, I realize, the lesson it taught to my sour soul, has changed my perspective towards life.. My last love taught me that, I belong to my little happy sphere, to the people I love, to the people who loves me back.. To the haters giving more power to me, to grow more, to conquer the heights..
Now I feel, I never borrowed his part of the blue sky, rather lived beneath my dark starry night welkin, under which "I created" a REALM of MY DREAMS, a W0RLD of MY CH0ICES and a QUEEND0M of SELF-L0VE.. _____________________________________________________________
Jamie you know, people leave but places don't.. They exist holding back all the memories, fragrances and some truths with lots of lies.. They never abandon our hearts instead knocks daily.. They say alot about them who left.. They keep secrets safe of the sweet and the sorrows we ever shared.. They became a part of our life.. It seems to be easy not to return to those places but even if you don't, they stays in your heart forever.. They are embraced with essence of the memories, good and bad.. The bad ones will hurt us but the good ones will hurt us too, because our unconscious mind is knitted with unreal expectations.. So, live a life that you can remember with smiles, and some acceptable tears.. Take both deeds, but always try to choose right.. ________________________________________________________
ATTIC: Forlorn Truth.. . . It was three in the morning, I woke up to the sound of pouring rain.. The cozy weather was making me nostalgic.. Suddenly, my thoughts were scattered by a rolling sound, it was coming from the roof.. My body got numb but mind went into the curiosity land..
My shivering foot stand on the last stair at the ickled wooden door of the attic, that rolling sound gradually grew, while i was leading towards the old garret..
I entered into that loft, if was covered with the cobwebs and the white bedlinens overlayed on all the old boxes, almirahs and also on that broken sofa.. While my eyes were saccading fast, it stopped at the tiny tree house which was once my favourite place to hide in..
I saw, someone sitting into my old tree house.. Fear ran into my veins but it feels like I was so known to her.. My steps were not in my control it went towards her and I sat near her, she smiled at me and continued to color her drawings..
She was me from my pre-teens, happy in her own world.. She has everything, that I wished, I have now.. Those old drawing books, crayons, a small kitchen set and most importantly the jolly vibes..
While I was busy in my nostalgic thoughts, I felt she was staring at me as if she wanted to ask something.. I could read in her eyes that urge of growing up fast, into a young women, her expressions says it all..
But little did she knew, its tough here, to live up in my present age.. Its lonely here with a bricked body, crumbled heart and a different mindset.. You realize the reality of the world, the line between sanity and insanity, the boundaries of rights and wrongs.. That excitement of growing up early feels like lame thoughts.. All you want is go back in time and hide again in your old tiny wodden tree house..
Suddenly, my thoughts interrupted with the same rolling sound which brought me up here, and my surrounding again turned into the cobwebbed attic.. It was cold, and to I turned pale, I looked back to know what's rolling.. Screamed into fear, I saw a rodent running over the broken sofa.. Hurried, I went to my bed..
But now I think, I saw this coming when I was a child.. I still feel all the good vibes of my childhood.. I live in nostalgia..
But today I witnessed that life has its own path which we all have to walk on.. And the mantra of living is to love what you have, work hard for what you desire and be grateful of what you already had..
When I was a child Wanted to grow real soon.. Now, When m grown young I want to feel my pre-teen toons.. ________________________________________________________
Only in the PARALLEL_UNIVERSE.. Like the parallel lines, which never meets These universes, never intersects.. Then, life would be little better for some.. ________________________________________________
On a sunday sunrise Waking up to some good tidings Thought of rustle up some nosh Peeped into the wooden spice box..
The red hot CHILLIES Swirled in stance of attitude As if the red devil queen..
The bright yellow TURMERIC Smashed the spoon Making an angle, Too bold in my eyes..
The warm brownish CINNAMON Twisted in sharp posture To pinch the taste tight..
The deep, muted, rusty orange With a copper undertoned NUTMEG Tinched to make sour warm exit..
The brownish black CLOVE Stood tall in pride, as a cox As to host my wooden spice box..
The greyish white fresh resin Which turned to dark amber colored ASAFOEDIA Acerbed to flinch my face right..
The last, to catch my site Pure white SALT in my mind Smirked in triumph as the ruling knight..
As these spices talked to me With their appearances, I turned To my favorite delight The powerful pungent GARLIC Giving significance texture to all my viands..
Glossary-: 1. Good tidings = Good News 2. Rustle up = Prepare 3. Nosh = Food 4. Cox = In charge of a its crew 5. Acerbed = Sour 6. Triumph = Victory 7. Ruling Knight = To rule all the cookings 8. Viands = Item of food
I'm full of myriad emotions and battle mood swings every other minute. Right from the time daylight sneaks into my room through the screen of my bedroom window. A blaring alarm is enough to raise your temper and make you see red, like a red hot chilli. Whilst the morning ginger "chai" refreshes your mind. The mind-boggling aroma of different spices like cloves, cumin, cardamom and cinnamon sticks being fried comes wafting through the kitchen from my sunday brunch, "the Biryani". The turmeric - a commoner in all households is an antioxidant and an all time healer motivating me to be kind and humane to everyone around. Black pepper adds flavour to the dish and salt, the seasoning enhances the flavour. My senses are highly enlightened, thinking of the output - an appetizing and sumptuous meal. The biryani topped with mint leaves adds a coolness quotient and brings with it an aura of immense freshness. With a refreshed mind, I write through the day - tales of bygone years of distant lands that no longer exist. I use the spices of writing - mellifluous metaphors, sublime syllables, soulful similes, pristine verses, amorous alliteration. I stretch out in the evening and drink a glass of turmeric milk. Turmeric keeps diseases at bay and maintains my health. Now it is dinner time and off I go to yet another appetizing dinner filled with colourful spices that maintain my health and add colours to my life.
/Chai - Tea
Biryani - A mixed rice dish originating amongst the Muslims of India. It is made with Indian spices, rice, and meat, and sometimes, in addition, eggs and/or vegetables such as potatoes in certain regional varieties. Biryani is popular throughout the Indian subcontinent, as well as among its diaspora./
As the frost enters in the year and the chills start to wind around, the sunrays struggles to feel the forest land and the cold breezes tend to shiver the greenery.. My bulbs are dug eight inches down the earth's crust and the wait is on..
As the high noon starts to crawl into the year and my bulbs are ready to bloom, my leaves and stems are now set to glow and have the very first petal of mine..
The journey begins as I m now sired and ready to blossom in the new life.. The insects crawling and the birds chirping, the sunbeams tickles the holy ride..
The sprinkles giggles, To kiss my lips I The TULIP, smile..
Different shades of me resembles different emotions of you, so I am gifted to different people as the gestures of your feelings up right..
The RED of me is for the everlasting intense L0VE, the perfect one as a delight..
The PINK of me symbolizes the happiness of C0NFIDENCE, gifting this to self is pride..
The PURPLE of me is for the lavished R0YALTY, the heist of the best life..
The YELL0W of me symbolizes the cheerful TH0UGHTS, making the atmosphere around bright..
The WHITE of me is for the art of F0RGIVENESS, the craft of setting free the negativity.. __________________________________________________________________