Today I am trying to Ink The feeling that I feel under my fat the stories crypting under a thick sweater Experiences holding its breath under an ocean of green tea.
Yes, I am a girl Overloaded with mass. Yea, I am a girl who often seen as a teddy bear Who never fails to attract the bulliers towards me.
I often make fun of me In front of others, so that they don't get a chance I starve in the name of the diet to cut that extra fat I try to stay alone because I am tired of trying to get fit in the lot.
No, I don't eat leftovers No, I don't need a gunny bag outfit I don't need sympathy and suggestions I just need friends to accept me for who I am
Why can't I wear a sleeveless dress Why can't I dream of a prince Why can't I jump in joy Why I am your funny toy
Stop calling me fatso Stop comparing to elephant Stop lame jokes about changing the door I pity you, How your heart is so poor.
Baby sorry for being addictive It is love which made us cry This distance is killing me inside We can never be back and I am out of try
Sorry for all those lies Which gave you smiles Sorry for all those fights Which were my rights Once I was yours, now called an unkown Baby it hurts, when you became so cruel.
Thank you for sweet kissses Now a pricking memories Thank you for soft touches Remembering it life sucks Once I was yours, now called an unkown Baby it hurts, when you became so cruel
Exchange of emotions you needed Now for what your mind greeded That you left me bare handed Without thinking, without you I would be dead Once I was yours, now called an unkown Baby it hurts, when you became so cruel
Baby sorry for being addictive It is love which made us cry This distance is killing me inside We can never be back and I am out of try.
I heard people saying Nature is the ultimate healer and Supreme teacher. I always felt it to be a bullshit philosophy. How someone can understand my sufferings, pain and feelings. Words cannot heal my mind. My wounds are deeper than you can think. And my final decision to come out of it is to put an end to my breath. Awakening the courage in me I sacrificed my vein to the edge of the blade. The dark room crowded with silence and my eyes closed slowly. When I opened my eyes It was morning, yes it was a failure. I understood that my collagen fibres are my protectors.
I came out of my room with disappointment. I sat on the floor looking towards flowering pots and plants around. My mind started observing and gathering things. What I see is a bunch of yellow dried leaves that lost their relationship with their loved ones, and looks like the plant don't care about it. However, the new spring leaves are its favourite now. I see those faded flowers which looked beautiful, a day before and the bees that were praising them yesterday have found new ones today. Looks like the climber hugging the stem have forgotten about the broken twig which was its support. Even the cut stem has stopped oozing and has started healing itself. Who cares about the lost, who cares about the past, once you are gone, what you can find is status, Captioned " gone too soon".
No one cares if you are a loser or a loss. No one remembers you forever. Then why the hell you are ashamed of failures, mistakes, miss pronunciations. No one is born a perfectionist, they are made by themselves. Live, Live for what you are, Live for what you wanna become. Live to prove yourself that you can. Never get tired of failing. Deal it, If you want it. Deal it, as you mean it.
It's 3rd day. She has become quite moody. She yells at me, easily gets irritated by our mischievous son, she gets tired doing daily chores and sometimes passes out on the sofa leaving the television and lights on. I am used to it now. It had been 4 years that we are married. But each month brings the same mood swings to our home. Now I am an expert at managing these situations. I help her wash clothes, all credits go to our hardworking washing machine. I keep our rooms clean, I take charge of our son on these days and she tries to be calm by talking less controlling her will.
But sometimes the situation gets out of control. Ruthvik, my son gets into a fight with his mom. He stays clueless about his mom's behavioural changes. He says," mom it's difficult to understand you, sometimes you are too nice and sometimes you are really bad". I am not mad at him, because when I was of his age I went through the same situations. I fought with my mom for preparing something I don't like because it was easy to prepare. I fought with her for not sleeping beside me for a few days. I was upset when she refused to play with me. I got mad when she couldn't come to the family trip. I was heartbroken when she bet me for pushing her into the pool. But I have seen her crying after beating me. I saw her sleeping hungry when I didn't eat food. I saw her sleeping on the floor so that I shall not get scared. I miss her that hug that came after her beatings. I miss those tasty food made to convince me. I miss her. I failed to understand her mood swings but she never failed to love me the same. Love you maa.
Our friends were having a discussion, one of us said I love the fragrance of jasmine. Others started saying rose, kerosene, burnt dia, mango etc. I joined saying I love the scent of rain. They all nodded heads as if it was one of their choices. It had been years that I am stuck in an 8-9 job. But whenever it rains I try to sit in an open place seeing it, inhaling the feel it carries. Wow, what magic it holds...!!
It was 4 pm, suddenly it started raining, the scent entered my home had opened a box of memories forgotten I the corner of my heart. I remember why this smell always arouses my inner child. It triggers that day where I never bothered getting wet in rain, I never thought what dirty water is. I remember after getting home grabbing some hot crispy pakoras with those muddy hands. I love this smell. For some it smells muddy, for some disgusting, few find it odourless. But I find the fragrance of memories, lost emotions, the forgotten me.
Remembering all the gold things I went near the cupboard grabbed some albums and sat in the entrance so that I can see it rain. I was deep into my good days. oh, yeah, how I can forget this? She was my first love. We played in rain, we sailed seconds lasting boats. We stood under the tree enjoying that scenery. It carries her scent too. While I was lost in thoughts A strong hug of air-popped on me, Ah, I got goosebumps. Hugging him I closed my eyes, I can smell him, he is pleasing, comforting. He is the replica of my good vibes.
Closing my eyes he took me on a tour. I saw myself in my mom's arms, my dad is holding an umbrella protecting the three of us. Where we are going? See it is my mom, she is making me wear a sweater and cap, yeah, I look like a monkey. She is holding me in her arms dad came with two cups of chai and some snacks. They are talking to me. What are they saying? Oh look it's my tiger, we loved playing in rain. Mom scolded us many times. Not for getting wet in rain instead for spoiling the lawn in rain. So beautiful isn't it, we didn't have a helmet so dad brought us 2 polyethene covers. I was not ashamed of wearing it in public at that time. It was dark and raining outside, I am sleeping in between my parents, so warm and comfortable. I am hugging my mom and dad is hugging both of us.
A thunderstruck loudly opened my eyes, my eyes are wet, I am smiling. I am sitting alone in the same place where we three used to sit, but now I am alone. Things moved, I too but they never left me. They are within me. Whenever I smell it, the scent helps me live the lost moments once more. If you ever feel you are alone, come out of your blankets, sit in a corner seeing rain, breathe her in. She will bring out the people that you love to stay with. This is how my rain smells. What is yours?
I always find life amusing. Each day looks like a new beginning and each night looks like the pillar of that begging. I grew up like most kids. Childhood packed in uniform, mischiefs punished by teachers, scoring marks as if a race and walking in the path chosen by people around. Till I join my degree I never realised that I never made my own choice. And like a fixed fate after completion of my degree got recruited in an 8-9 job. I met many, girls-boys. Friends, lovers but something was special about her. It is just like a story that never ended and which I don't want to end. I met her when I was 15. After scoring 98% in the race my parents let me enjoy my summer vacations. They gave me a keypad mobile to enjoy my time. All I wanted was to play games who cares if it had internet or not. I played day and night, guess what? Snake game, sudoku, cricket and something that had a monkey to climb, I don't remember the name though. It was fun, for a few days. I got bored soon.
I went to meet my friends, they introduced me to a new thing called Facebook. They had friends, chattings, groups. And I was curious too. Meeting and talking to unknown people, wow!! That's exciting. I installed it and sent friend requests to all my friends. That night I got a request from someone named Nisha. I was happy to see a girl's request and I accepted it. That night I got a good night text from her but as I was in deep sleep I couldn't answer her. The next morning I replied," sorry, my net was off, good morning". I still remember how much excited I was. She replied, "good morning". Did we exchange common talk like, had your breakfast? Where you are from? Do you know me? How old are you? ....etc. It was our daily routine, so many days we used to start with had your breakfast? to had your dinner?. Gradually we were getting close. Day and night I thought about her. I started to like the attention that she was giving me. I wanted it for a lifetime. And I concluded that I will say her. And gathering all my courage inbetween our texts I sent her " 143". She replied, "1432". I was feeling as if I won a war. Wow, what that feeling was. It had been 1 week that we are in a relationship and I wanted it for a long. But suddenly I heard dad calling me. I logged out from google, keeping my mobile in my pocket I went to my dad. He asked, " Were you playing the game?" I lied, "yes". He said, " give me the phone". I thought he got to know about her and I was frightened to death. I handed him in fear. He took it and kept it in his pocket. He gave me a bag. I opened them, they were books. My 11th standard books. He said, " you can play games later. This is the turning point. You shall complete the portions before your teacher does. Start it from today". I was relieved from stress. But I wanted to inform her this, I wanted to say her a proper goodbye, I wanted to say her to wait. But everything ended before the beginning.
But now sometimes I feel it never ended. I feel to search for her. But you know Facebook, it is not easy to find someone. More than that who knows, was she really"Nisha". Because I was "Rocky" for her. But I am Rishab. Might be this is the reason she never found me. It is not only my story, There are many lost in fake IDs. I know one is within you which raised your puberty emotions, which brought out the Romeo inside you, which is lost inside you.
I am sorry, I wanted to say this to you earlier but I was scared about your response. I have seen you sobbing in the dark, I heard your cries and I did not want to add on them. I know dad loves me but at the same time, he is conscious about his prestige. All these thoughts pulled me back from sharing anything.
But now, I am tired of hiding it. I want to say what I went through and what I feel. I feel suffocated here mom. I often feel as if I am caged. I can sense those eyes touching me without touching me. I feel that hot breath even when I metres away. Why it is like this? If a meter of dupatta can save me why not the jeans. Will it be over if I start wearing a saree? If it is so why did I bleed in my uniforms even when I wore a full dress? Why do I deserve that touch which makes me uncomfortable? Going through puberty and body changes made me even uncomfortable. Why did they call me melons? I feel shame for being a girl. Isn't it natural mom? You said it, right? But why society doesn't understand.
Yesterday I met a kid here. She is just two. What kind of dupatta she should have worn? Does it matter mom? I know girls are bound to some rules, but I wonder, who made them? Does it even help? Instead, why don't they teach them how to defend? Why didn't they stand for me when I was teased? Why I was left alone? Why I was treated so bad? It hurts mom. My freedom to shout was ripped. My eyes were forced with fear, my fully covered body was shared as a treat. I was crushed till death. I faced it, mom, I am brave but proof of the truth should never exist. So they sent me here. But still, I didn't find my answer.
What was my fault? My dress? My makeup? My job? My fate? Or being a girl? Will be waiting for your answer.
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 any where else ..each water molecule misses her deeply , her name set on each leaf of oak tree winds blowing Memories back to me..
My heart cries under the Shades of Grey nostalgia .. Blurred my vision question arises in my mind. How evil is this fellowship? I've reached out my hands countless times. Her voice echoed in my mind asking for help which. I couldn't find ..
The evil soles of their feet nearly black with dirt , their eccentric appearance that I didn't notice I don't know how to apologize to her I feel detected broken ... I can feel her.
Her simplicity , cuteness and innocent face brings Tears in my Sky. Colourless rainbows all around in Blue Grey sky. I remember this used to be her favourite place beaut climbing oak tree with the threads of poetry.
Today I'm writing scars of my moon.. sitting beside this warm Lake hallucinating her everywhere. she encouraged me in my writings , she was my great supporter. she was my mute best friend with diary in hand..my evergreen tree who lost her zeal leaving me alone with broken yellowish leaves . The unbearable pain of her drowning my Rose garden...
Walking towards bridge I miss you high in lament verses of dusk ..I'm sorry my love I can't save you. my mind blocks can see the sunset with my closed eyes..
All I wish justice to be severed so you can fly high cheerfully blooming like a sunflower with a bright sunlight..you will gonna be free my love from those evil nights nd will always shine as a shooting star..
See and rippling
how how like
the the waves
roof sunlight along
slopes follows hollows
— Emily Romano
The Pictorial is an invented poetry form. It is a type of shape poem, where the entire poem must be printed in slanting lines indicating the thought in those lines. The poem should consist of three lines with five words or less per line. There should be rhyme somewhere in the poem, either end rhyme or internal rhyme.
The word "prose" comes from the Latin “prosa oratio,” meaning “straightforward.” Prose is a verbal or written language that follows the natural flow of speech. It is the most common form of writing, used in both fiction and non-fiction.
--Today, write a prose poetry starting with---
" I borrowed a handful of blue sky from my last lover and..."
A character sketch is an elaborate portrayal of a character. It can be a fictional character or an individual around you. It broadly includes gender, age, appearance, physical and personal strengths and weaknesses, feelings and behaviours towards other characters etc. It is important to include proof from the story or real life to support your statements.
--Today, write a creative character sketch poetry.--
For today's challenge, put yourself in the shoes of an artist who has cut ties with his/her art because of some unknown reason. It can be a dancer who doesn't dance anymore or a musician who hasn't played any instrument for years. Imagine the emotions and life of such a person and write a creative piece about it.
--Today, write from the perspective of an artist who has abandoned art.--
Today, write a Nonet followed by two couplets with the rhyme scheme aa/bb.
In today's topic, you will be answering a question. 'What can poetry do?'
A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second line eight syllables, the third line seven syllables, etc... until line nine finishes with one syllable. It can be on any subject and rhyming is optional.
line 1 - 9 syllables line 2 - 8 syllables line 3 - 7 syllables line 4 - 6 syllables line 5 - 5 syllables line 6 - 4 syllables line 7 - 3 syllables line 8 - 2 syllables line 9 - 1 syllables