A boy's journey through words and the mixtapes. I write every Thursday.
Sometimes I'd think of him, like the trees think of their falling leaves. Sometimes he sneaks into my dream, Where I helplessly sway away with him, tickled pink, whole, happy and overjoyed. But once again, he runs away as if unattended like a hard-hearted bandit. Leaving -- the lasting fragrance of one long sapphire night passing.Comments closed
It hurts her right in the feels because she thinks, he is not thinking about her anymore.
It crushes him to the bones whenever she crosses his mind, whenever he has a dream of her but would never speak a word. Afraid.
Both standing on a balanced tragedy.
Both strong, both rugged, both inside a box that does not even exist.
Their beautiful, beautiful heart like a Blackhole – a flawlessly flawed singularity.
No one knows what’s inside. No one knows what’s the truth.
Perhaps, no one knows nothing.Neither him nor her. No one.
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The story of a burning candle. The song of a blowing wind. The friendship of a flowing river. The happiness of a falling rain.
You will shine despite the clouds don’t permit.
You will live knowing death is dying to meet you.
You came to this world Screaming, sure.
You have been through a lot, you for sure Matter.
This world you are given is amazing.
And you must know that you are free to paint whatever the color you desire in this messed up canvas — until the day you are no more but a dust.
You are more than what everyone will tell you and think of you.
My staggering dynamite.
- She taught me all thisComments closed
Give thyself a deserved break.
Do not think too much.
Do not fake out!
Have fun only for the sake of having fun.
Be happy only for the sake of being happy.
Listen to first-class musics. Bang your head, sing out loud.
Thrive in flat out silence, enjoy that slipping, ephemeral solitariness.
Do what you feel like, do what your heart tells you and thee challenge your fears.
Do not question your choices, your choice of life, living.
Do not regret.
But most important of all, Own your life!
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She cried into her pillow. She tried under water, cried on her mother’s arm.
Stones howled, even wind didn’t come near, the sun disappeared, stars hide.
Blue of the tears wore her as she wore it obscurely.
But light didn’t leave her heart, never abandoned her life.
She became the bright.
She returned reborn, reawakened; now a little wise, a little supple.
Comments closedIf you ask me, what makes my family heaven alike?
I would say –
when you are able to see your dad flirt with your mum in shimmering delight with added buffoonery,
when you are able to see both of them laugh ear-to-ear on their self-created, self-invited foolish decorum,
when you are able to come home and actually feel like being in one,… being home,
all of these, should they befall super constantly and continually,…
and oh! you will know, you have found a whole Elysium all for yourself.
To add a bit more –
Family
...is having a dad with impressive, handsome funny bone, and a mum with striking wisdom, big heart and encyclopedic smile.
Family
...is also having telekinetic siblings, all diamonds alike.
Family
...is having parents who still packs your office tiffin dearly, warmly.
Family
...is having dad who helps mum in all household chores, dishes, laundry, broom, whatnot,
Family
...is having mum who takes care of the whole family, who looks upto your dad, always shops for him.
Family
... is having parents and siblings who are so much fun to be around. My Family! Touchwood.
– Little things, sweet junks, taken, felt, released and redeemed wholeheartedly makes the family,
builds an abode of true blessing.
Comments closedI have made terrible mistakes in my life.
I have also abandoned many.
I did break hearts too.
But I forgave myself.
Grand ma' says, "Confession, Realization is adequately enough."Comments closed
I do not remember when and how I fell in love with poetry.
Maybe, because it rues your breathe of life but with a good pain.
It is dark but it's the bright dark.
Maybe it is complicated but simple.
Poetry.
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