Browse Tag by free write
Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

A Heart Full

I carry within me a heart full
of stories and magic and new beginnings,
a heart full of hope and trust
and of love that never knows how to fade nor end.

So when you’ve grown weary and tired
of this world’s never ending charades
when putting on your daily mask
became too much to bear,

Remember me
For I shall carry yours within mine
and I’ll lend you mine
when yours start to fail.


Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings


When you did your best
but your best is not enough
When you pour your life and blood and insides out
and you sacrifice everything else
and it is still not enough
When every step up is two steps down
and everything you do is an uphill trudge.

Shouldn’t it be something like
Do your best and everything else will turn out okay?
Yet life doesn’t seem to work that way

Suddenly you found life has its own rules
and regulations
that you are not aware of,
and pitstops
and hidden tunnels
and sinking holes
that you never sign up for.

I’m confused, you say.
How did everything turn out like this?
It used to be rainbows and fairs
and cotton candies and laughters that
never seem to end.
When did the rules change?
Now everything else you do
seems to turn into ashes
and dust moats
and a pile of stinking garbage
for the future generations to tread on.

Why did everything change?, you asked
but no answers came,
just the sound of the howling wind passing by
and with every minute
that ticks
and tocks
you are left with a growing anxiety
that never stops.


– – –

In response to Daily Post: Confused and Inspiration Monday: Dust Moat

Poetry, Prose, Writing Entries, Writings



It was raining hard when you left me
the ship we’re on was about to sink
and all the gang was there.
You held her hand,
As I held mine.

It was raining hard when she left me
the ship we’re on was about to sink
and all the gang was there.
I wished it was her hand,
I was holding.

It was raining hard when he left me
the ship we’re on was about to sink
and all the gang was there.
I was holding his hand,
But she was holding his heart.

– –
My entry for #FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

Poetry, Random Thoughts, Writings


I want to drink the water from the ocean
Scald my skin with boiling water
Scrape my neck, my back, my fingers, my arms,
my legs, my stomach, my thighs
with the roughest of the roughest stone I could ever find.
I want to scrub every corner of my dirty little soul
Until all his sins are gone.

Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings


I think I am descending again,
on a train of thought
I assumed I’m over with
long ago when I learnt how to smile
and believed the Sun
when it’s behind those clouds.

But here I am again,
counting every pearls
and trickles of blood
mesmerize at the brightness of its promise
yet destroying me all at once
and all over again.

I am descending again
and this is my fiction, a truth in a lie
a hope in wickedness
and soon
everything will be swirling and spinning
and I’ll be one with vertigo.

Who will catch me by then
when I fall?
When I fall, if i fall,
I hope the ground
will be as soft as a burlap
woven in silk and honey threads.


– – –

Here’s my take for #FWF Free Write Friday: Word Bank using the following words: train – burlap – fiction – pearls – vertigo.

Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

On broken shards

He walks on eggshells
whenever she’s around
While she,
has been walking on broken shards
and glasses of an unknown future
all her life
cutting deeply
to the soles of her feet
leaving fresh blood footprints
wherever she goes.

Trust me, he says.
She looks at the caked of dried blood on her feet.

“Why should I when you have only threaded on eggshells?”

– – –

Here’s my entry for #FWF Free Write Friday: Trust. I admit trust is a difficult topic for me and I had real difficulty in coming up with something for this prompt. 🙂

Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

Tattoed Soul

The words curled around her tongue
vanishing before she gets a taste of it
Her hands are inked with sentences
Her stomach are filled with phrases unknown
Every bit of her skin
Are marked with ancient lines
Four lines, five lines, six lines
And she lost count of the others on her back
They called it stanzas
From the World Before
When words were freely written and spoken
On things called books and papers
With an ink that must be the same
As the one inscribed on her soul.
She is an obscenity
A walking contradiction
A curse in the post human language era
As she bears all the words and languages of the world
So that all can see through her
The beauty that words can make
(Yet none can read nor understand)
Even though none can read nor understand.

She wears her soul on her skin.
Still, no one can read her.

– – –
I’ve been gone for many weeks! Finally, here’s my entry for #FWF Free Write Friday: O me!, O life!

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

I’m counting his music

He sits there as he usually do, strumming music as ancient as his soul might have been.

It is a song I’m not familiar to, or maybe because of years of captivity in this underground nothingness, where every day is night and all colors merge into black, I already forget the songs I once enjoyed listening to, songs of love, of fun, of sadness, and anything that is pop and in hype.

I don’t know what’s happening above now. I don’t even know how I came to be alive until now. I don’t even know why I am here.

But I count.

I count the days since I got here. And that’s what he didn’t know.

And that’s why I know something weird is going on, not just because he kidnapped me in which I could recall just like yesterday, but because I’m stuck here in a rut, in a cold underground bunker, with nothing but him and his heavenly ancient music I anticipate everyday that is now as constant as the steady beating of my heart.

And he’d never given me anything yet I still exist.

No food, no water, no anything. Just the music that wakes me up each day, making me mark another day.

It’s been 55, 482 days now.

And I’m born in 1911.


– – –

In response to #FWF Free Write Friday: Time and Place Scenario.

And as requested by A. I. Sajib, here is my promise little fiction for you! Though I’m not entirely sure this would fall as ‘cute’ one. 🙂

Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

Look at me now

eyes2Look at me now
can you see
I’m made of glass
and sheets of ice
that slowly melt
at your glance and touch?

Look at me now
will you believe
that I’ve gone to hell
and earth and heaven
then all the way back to hell
because of you?

Look at me now
and tell me
that you see me
that you see the devil that was me
and the angel that is me
and the human I’m struggling to be.

Look at me now
Do you really see me?
‘Cause I badly want to know,
What you see when you look at me.


– – –

In response to Inspiration Monday: Look at me now