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And unending
And lurking in the heart
And lacking in the soul
A constant
And an agitated state of being
Of searching
Of reaching out
Of looking out
Of what I know not and what it is
Reigns in my realm of reality
But still
The soul yearns for it deeply
A certain and ravenous hunger
Assaults my very being
Making I restless
A hunger of something I don’t understand
Of something I have never had before
Of something I have never seen before
Nor touched before
Nor held before
But the longing is still there
A strong desire
And I instinctively know that I will understand it
Once it hits me
But until then
Restlessness rules..

Upon This Table…


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Upon this white topped table,
There lies various scribbles and doodles,
Of someone’s life story,
Of someone’s dreams,
Of someone’s trials,
Of someone’s happiness,
It is all here,
Upon this white topped table,
And some coffee spills,
Upon the scribbles and doodles,
Burning their aspirations…

This Might Be The Best Opening In Literature

Originally posted on 101 Books:

Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others, they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.

That opening from Their Eyes Were Watching God is one of the best openings in literature.

The rhythm and pacing of ZNH’s sentences, the truthfulness and conviction in what she’s saying. It’s just a beautiful opening, I think.

And it sets the stage for the entire novel, along with this second paragraph.

Now, women forget all the things they don’t want to remember, and remember all the things they don’t want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly.

Quite a contrast of description in those two opening paragraphs.


View original 27 more words

A Glass Of Wine

You create such enchanting evenings,
While lounging in a lazy evening still holding you in my hand,
Watching the sun bow down to gods of the night,
While you taste my lips with your mellow kisses,
And I pay tribute the spirits of our forefathers,
Who lived in better days and gave birth to this private moment…

Ah. Dear glass of wine,
How you seduce I,
Drawing my wanton desires,
Firing my imagination,
Holding me closer to your erotic bosom,
And claiming my thoughts,
Heady mists of your love,
Breathes my very soul,
Tendrils of lost moments,
Trails a warm path in this heart…

You dear glass of wine of mine,
Don’t whisper to my stupid ears,
That you are leaving,
Leaving so early in the night,
Let me lie in your bourdon,
And make sweet memories come alive,
Let me hold you closer,
And whisper risqué humour,
And mouth naughty odes,
To your open lips dear wine glass…

One glass,
Two glasses,
Three glasses,
Four glasses,
Five glasses,
And the story is complete,
Our delicate story,

Tell me dear wine glass,
Who is fooling who?


Originally posted on Busy Mind Thinking:

Over time she created a mask
Thinking it was beautiful
Far more beautiful then what lay

A perfect hiding place
From the world and all its

She had worn it for so long
It felt unnatural not to wear it
And after a time
It simply wouldn’t come off
It had melted into her skin
It had become a part of her

A couple of times
Throughout her life
She had been convinced by Trust
To remove it
And she did
For a while
But trust departed
And the mask found its way back to her

The day of Realization arrived
When she was looking in a mirror

The only person that couldn’t
See her for her true self
The only one that mattered
Was the one she feared most

She removed the mask
Looked into her soul
And saw there was beauty
She wasn’t even aware existed

View original 48 more words

The Single Mother


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She is a powerhouse
She is an engine
A force to reckon with
That drives the family unit single handedly
She is the sole driver
The lone captain
Who guides her family ship to prosperity
The single mother…

A single mother
Is both father and mother
To her children
A single mother
Is a warrior
A fighter
A survivor
A heroine…

She fights her battles alone
Expecting no favour
But the birth of a new day favours her
I salute the single mother
I cherish the single mother
I celebrate the single mother
She is indeed powerful
She is essential
She is vital
She is more than a woman
The single mother…

A Sigh…


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A sigh is a complete language,
A sigh speaks of relief,
A sigh expresses pain,
A sigh talks of disgust,
A sigh says about comfort,
A sigh heralds a desire…

A sigh speaks alot,
A sigh longs for so much,
But remains unspoken,
Albeit silently,
A sigh could be a rebuke,
A sigh could be an appreciation,
A sigh could be everything,
A sigh could be nothing,
But a sigh speaks volumes…

Next time be keen and careful whenever a woman sighs. She is talking to you…

WordPlay II


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A proliferation of monosyllabic thoughts,
That are ubiquitous for the umpteenth time,
Can be inconsequential and ludicrous…

By the heath,
Some thoughts belonging to the Mesozoic era,
Sighs an exasperated and demurred
Replete with pliable notions,
That throws brusque and iconoclastic tantrums,
That are untenable and don’t call me a superstitious person…

Placid platitudes,
Espouses visceral thoughts,
Turning I into some chaplain,
To companion,
Condescending and narcissistic longings that I have learnt to hate…

A perfunctory smirk,
Proudly worn on a face,
extrapolate quiescent paradigms,
That enunciates sweet succour of yore..

I am subservient,
Gale me with ancient penury of distant thoughts,
It is a wordplay,
It is not a mindplay,
Of thoughts…


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