Why do we write? Is it to satiate our soul, to express the inexpressible, or to present some stories that we know can resonate with if not all, but definitely a few of the readers.
I remember vaguely, the day when holding my dad’s fingers, I visited this local bookstore and grabbed a comic book, which, if my memory serves me right, was the beginning of my journey to the wonderful world of books. And then it kept expanding through various writers and is still expanding.
Publishing a book isn't something that I expected to be accomplished so soon, but…
Peep inside my eyes, sometimes, they’ll tell you,
a saga, those stories, that my lips failed to utter,
for so long, for so long.
O’ overwhelming love, don’t let me wake up,
don’t let me fall down on earth,
let me soar high up,
floating dreamily in the clouds.
Listen, my love, always live in the love.
I had the privilege to read quite a few very beautiful pieces written by some amazing writers across Medium. Listing them below, and they are not in any particular order:
This city, how can you not be in love with it,
the towering buildings, hanging above, shielding from the sky,
those kind hands, of noble women and men,
feeding me with food, as I stray through the busy streets,
lined with rustling cheery trees on either side,
from whose branches infinite sparrows sing their chirpy songs.
As I criss-cross the multilingual bustling alleyways, longing for that shade of happiness, of someone, caressing me, taking me in, a shelter over my head, I keep dreaming this impossible dream, day in and day out, but then my curious mind, sees that street…
Have you ever thought?
Why do we like the impending smell of rain?
why does our hearts dance with unending joy,
when those first dollops of raindrops fall,
on the parched skin of the earth,
and petrichor fills the hearts of one and many?
Why do some songs keep playing in loops on our mind,
on our mind, oh so suddenly, and how hard you try to shrug it off,
it doesn’t, it doesn't leave you, unless,
your lips start to hum, hum a bit of them,
but do they actually leave?
Hello Medium Community,
We hope you all are safe and have been taking care of yourself and your near and dear ones.
Firstly, we were so overwhelmed with the response we received for our second foray into prompts territory on Medium with Andoumboulou and Vorfreude. We have received over 20 beautiful pieces and we cannot be thankful enough to all of the contributing authors from across Medium, who spent their valuable time painting such beautiful words around these topics. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts!
Trust me, it was a very difficult affair for us to select only…
Oh, those intricately designed butterfly wings, who are circling around,
those lone parrots, swinging playfully, uttering some human-like sound,
twisting their heads, sitting in those aerial roots of banyan,
tell me if this life in the wilderness, has any match to that of the human civilization?
With the skies seemingly touching the earth on the horizon, we become,
become that breeze wandering through the leafy forest,
if a yearning springs in the heart, if some sleep hits the eyes,
we become that dew-drop resting on the flower,
waiting for a gentle nudge, to fall.
In this untouched spectacle of the…
As the midnight winds ruffled her hair, sending a couple flying on her cheeks,
covering her eyes, momentarily, that was staring, gazing from the rooftop,
at a time of the night, when everything, everything felt so disassociating,
but at the same time, so real, and so pinned to the present.
She smiled, thinking of a time, that time when she’ll probably look back, at this night, sitting all alone on the rooftop, away from the chaos, she wished she could hold on, hold on to this moment a bit more, before, the daily cacophonies would dizzy her ears, conundrums of…
Every cell of mine, is a star passing through,
through your blue skies,
windy, with floating white clouds,
as I keep admiring you, smelling in,
a breath, full of you.
Every cell of mine, is like those rocks, those logs of wood,
through which your gushing stream, flows,
fresh, cold, icy cold, but like a balmy feeling,
cleansing my broken soul.
These multi-colored woolen strings of desire, they seem, they seem to,
have gotten, entangled, in your fingers,
do you know a way, a way to,
I had the privilege to read quite a few very beautiful pieces…
As I vaporize, vaporize into the thin air, my existence slowly evaporating,
evaporating, as the fiery rays of the soul-melting sun, keeps staring at me.
I look down, down into the water body, the little pond where I was coggled,
coggled and bustling with energy, along with so many other water molecules,
together, watching that duck, wading on, those ecstatic children, swimming, smiling,
those chatter of the womenfolk, sitting and spinning tales of their home,
as a quilt of wind, caressed the surface.
I shall wait, wait for that day, when those monsoon clouds would rumble, singing their rain coming…
There sets the crimson yellow sun, while the waves keep playing with your feet,
While the birds glide back to their nests, your fingers caress the salty waters,
Soon, the moonlight would plant a white blanket over the sky,
and one blink of your eyes, you see the beloved smiling at you,
uncontrollable, by your love, feeling so much of it, now.
See those reflections in the waters, of the densely lit buildings, the sky, of the birds, of that airplane, of people walking by, like a mad carnival, turning the water into a cocktail of everything, the sights, the…
Loves mountains, sea waves, old buildings, petrichor, sound of night crickets, haiku, kintsukuroi , books, dogs, silences and also cacophonies!:)