Tag Archives: poem

Please text me back ( Poem )

In the realm of waiting, where what-ifs intertwine,
A guy steps into the scene, stirring emotions, with a complex design.
As I check my phone, my emotions are careening,
A tempestuous storm, a turbulent scene.

Minutes crawl by in a slow-motion show,
Anticipation lingers for a simple “hello.”
The silence disrupted, a palpable suspense,
Each moment is pregnant, with immense potential.

Overthinking takes the stage, a mind in replay,
Past conversations are scrutinized, in this waiting array.
Words dissected, nuances under the spotlight,
A mental drama, unfolding in the quiet.

Self-doubt knocks loud, an unwelcome guest,
Thoughts battling within, an internal unrest.
A battleground of doubts, a war of the mind,
In this waiting game, no solace to find.

Coping tricks were attempted, but falling short,
The waiting game is a challenging sport.
Strategies unravel in the ticking of the clock,
Emotions entangled in a relentless deadlock.

The phone stays silent, with no message in sight,
Relief plays hide-and-seek in the shroud of the night.
A void of reassurance, a vacuum of sound,
As unanswered pings echo all around.

Realization hits, clear as the day’s gleam,
Some folks aren’t worth the waiting dream.
Epiphany’s light, a beacon so bright,
Guiding through uncertainties, dispelling the night.

Connecting the dots, lessons unfold,
Understanding triggers, stories retold.
Communication is key, bridges may burn,
Journeys end, but lessons are earned.

In the conclusion’s breath, a truth so plain,
Not everyone’s worth the waiting pain.
Freedom found in letting go,
Heart set free from the ebb and flow.

Some people, my friend, aren’t worth the glee,
In the realm of waiting, emotions unravel, you see.
A story of patience, nerves in transit,
As the phone stays silent, a lesson is implicit.

Not everyone’s worth the endless trials,
In the tapestry of waiting, where emotion prevails.
So let courage be the guide, a compass so true,
To navigate the waiting, with strength anew.

In this tale of waiting, where emotions weave,
Threads of anticipation in the wind, they heave.
As the phone stays silent, a lesson unfolds,
Not everyone’s worth the stories waiting holds.


So yeah , I think the poem is quite self explanatory !!!!

After a long and emotionally exhausting wait, I have come to the realization that some people don’t deserve the effort and mental anguish endured in waiting for their response. The frustration of waiting on a text that may never come can be a daunting experience.

Overthinking, self-doubt, and coping mechanisms are all part of the waiting game. However, after going through all of this, I have come to understand that not everyone is worth the wait. Some people just don’t deserve the starring role in your waiting game.

It’s time to let go and embrace the freedom that comes with it. Life is too short to wait for those who don’t appreciate your time. As I move on from this chapter, I am excited about the new beginnings that await me. It’s time to enjoy life and not worry about unreturned texts. Cheers to living, breathing, and enjoying the freedom that comes with letting go.

I wrote this message but I haven’t received a response yet. I have a feeling that the person may not reply .

Not every story has an ending. This one doesn’t either. The ending is me realizing not everyone deserves your attention.

(p.s. Any resemblance to any living creature is purely coincidental, don’t come at me )😂😂

Tell me your thoughts!! I would love to hear those and your perspectives!!!

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Adioss!!!!

Sending all of you lots of love and hugs

Ally🥰

Celebrating Resilience and Ambition: Navigating Life’s Journey”

“Amid life’s challenges, our determination ignites the flame within, guiding us to conquer countless goals on the journey of ambition.”

In the pursuit of aspirations, where ambition faces its challenges,
We navigate the intricate path, playing our diverse roles.
Amid trials and tribulations, where life exacts its tolls,
We unearth the inner strength, the flame within our souls.

With resolute determination, we confront obstacles and milestones,
Reaching for the stars, achieving countless objectives and goals.
Beneath the surface, in life’s enigmatic recesses or knolls,
We uncover concealed treasures, beneath the earthly bowls.

As our journey unfolds, and the world imposes its demands,
We persevere through hardships, crafting unyielding guiding poles.
With unwavering determination, we conquer daunting roles,
Transforming hindrances into stepping stones, igniting fiery coals.

Amid the darkest nights, where the path is steep and hard,
We compose our unique narrative, akin to a timeless bard.
In life’s extensive territory, yet to be charted or marred,
We serve as protectors of our dreams, forever on guard.

Though sometimes, scars are etched, and hearts endure harm,
By the fragments of letdowns, in life’s ever-shifting cards.
Yet, we emerge from the furnace, resilient and unscarred,
For tenacity is the shield with which we’re imbued and charred.

With a vivid vision in our hearts, a distinct mission,
We advance undeterred, defying skepticism’s derision.
Seeking authorization to chase our dreams, our ambition,
We press forward with resolve, making every correct decision.

In the realm of opportunities, our significant assignment,
Is to shape a future with deft and caring precision.
Amid the winds of change, we embrace the transition,
Uniting our endeavors, dissolving each division.

In the symphony of existence, where stories are unfurled,
Each of us is a distinct instrument, of inestimable worth.
As we strive for our aspirations, in this audacious world,
May we find the power to stand firm, never to falter or girth.

Hence, let us advance together, hand in hand, heart in heart,
Acknowledging that collectively, we transcend any part.
With ambition as our compass, our masterpiece of art,
We’ll overcome the obstacles, for we’re always united, never apart.


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**Out of Place**

Tell us about a time when you felt out of place.



In the boundless cosmic space, I’d chase,
Longing in my heart, a mystic embrace.
Through galaxies untamed, a starry race,
I sought a destination, a unique place.

The concept of grace, a wondrous trace,
Like moonlight’s gentle kiss on nature’s face.
I yearned to grasp it, to hold its grace,
Yet, often found myself in a restless haze.

In the world’s ceaseless race, a crowded case,
I searched for solace, for a calming base.
A sanctuary of stillness, a tranquil space,
To pause, to breathe, to find my pace.

I wore a mask, a brave, bold brace,
To hide doubts, fears I couldn’t erase.
In the world’s grand embrace, a frenzied chase,
I sometimes felt lost, in a bewildering maze.

In this world’s complex embrace, I’d retrace,
My steps and dreams, with wisdom to embrace.
For it’s in the authentic self, I’d find my base,
A firm foundation, in life’s ever-changing place.

Scars etched upon my soul, life’s embrace,
Each one a story, a unique, sacred case.
In the grand showcase of existence’s grace,
I learned to wear them proudly, with no disgrace.

To find my true self, I’d seek the fireplace,
A hearth of introspection, a sacred birthplace.
In its warm, flickering glow, I’d find the trace,
Of my essence, my truth, my unique face.

They called me Scarface, in a world’s race,
But these scars are badges, my soul’s embrace.
Each one tells a tale, a life’s complex case,
Of battles won and lost, of strength and grace.

In life’s bustling marketplace, I’d find my place,
Trading dreams and hopes, with a beaming face.
For we are all artists in this vast embrace,
Contributing our colors to the canvas of space.

Through every storm and trial, I’d embrace,
The challenges that shaped me, with grace.
In the grand showcase of life’s vibrant space,
I’d discover that the journey is the true chase.

Feeling out of place was not a weak embrace,
But a reminder of my uniqueness, a soulful grace.
In those moments of doubt, in life’s complex case,
I’d uncover my purpose, my role, my true place.

In the end, I’d find beauty in life’s grace,
In its unpredictability, in its mysterious embrace.
It’s in feeling out of place, in the cosmic space,
That I’d rediscover myself, my unique birthplace.


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Dear Crush


I have a tale to unfold.
Of feelings , fierce and uncontrolled,
Of thoughts through the mortal lips that must be told
I know it might explode, but I am not that bold.


So here it is, my love, you make me blush,
It was everything like the teen crush.
You are my favorite prose, a symphony of chaos and emotions.
You were my Romeo.
How you won me over, we will never know.


I saw my world in greys, yet you were my unicorn.
But for you, I guess I was a thorn.
Now it’s a fleeting dream; it’s faded.
My thoughts are no longer invaded.
Okay, I’m lying on some days, but most days it’s shaded.


But I’m hurting, with echoes of what I thought I had.
Of imagination and pain being embedded in my existence.
My crush will forever be a crush.
Never for you to know, only for the world to hush


We went from texting hours to meetings, and then you disappeared.
I read too much into your sentences.
I never knew we had differences.
Every hurt I felt became a mosaic.
Yet everything feels foreign and archaic.


I want to work on my art—the art of heartache.
Because I need to do it for my own sake.
I want to write a prose piece on perseverance.
I need my crush to go on clearance.
I want you as a distant memory.
A faint sound on a chapter I read
But not like this, unrequited love, instead


The truth and reality are very clear.
It was a predestined path, dear.
Threads of destiny weave our story.
Our pieces don’t intend to fit.
Anyway, fairytale endings are too glorious.
However, our ending was raw, real, and lit.


I’m grateful to you, yeah. The chapter is done.
But now my stories have begun.
My crush was a lesson in disguise.
To teach me lessons of resilience and heartache.
To make me a little more wise


My dear crush, you were my Romeo.
In life’s ballad, but a sentence, not a chapter
You etched my soul, but you had no control.
But I have a story to weave after
So with a wounded heart, renewed courage
I go into life again, far from being discouraged.
Taking a sip of life’s vicissitudes,
In an unknown terrain, latitude and longitude
You, my crush, are the end of my chapter.
Thanks to you, I’m focused on what I’m after
 
Thanks…
Yours in heartache and healing
 
 
 
 


I know I haven’t posted in a while especially poems .

So here’s one of my latest creations!!

Tell me your thoughts !!!


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“Ex Talk: A Captivating Journey of Love, Honesty, and Self-Discovery”



Rating – ⭐⭐⭐⭐

I honestly didn’t pick this up intentionally. I had one audible credit to exhaust and the synopsis looked interesting plus radio and audio books , sounds like a dream combo.It did!!
I liked the book .

For me , books personally,have the ability to transport us to other worlds, elicit emotions, and instruct us in useful lessons. The delightful contemporary romance novel “Ex Talk” by Rachel Lynn Solomon takes readers on an immersive journey of love, honesty, and self-discovery. “Ex Talk” captivated me from from the very beginning to the very end thanks to its compelling characters, intricate relationships, and themes that provoke thought.


“Ex Talk” presents Shay Goldstein, a public radio producer facing a unique challenge to boost ratings. To do so, she teams up with her nemesis, Dominic Yun, to host a radio show where they pretend to be exes and offer relationship advice. What makes the story compelling is Shay’s relatable character, as she battles self-doubt, insecurities, and the fear of revealing her true self. Her growth throughout the story resonated with me, who can empathize with and cheer for her.

The novel delves into the themes of authenticity and vulnerability, emphasizing Shay’s journey to find her voice and embrace her true identity. The importance of honesty and vulnerability in building genuine connections is highlighted, showcasing the power of being authentic for personal growth, healthy relationships, and happiness.

The relationships portrayed in the book are dynamic and emotionally rich. Shay’s friendships and her complex bond with her bestfriend feel genuine and layered. The chemistry between Shay and Dominic captivates readers, drawing them deeper into the story. The author expertly explores multifaceted relationships, capturing the nuances of love, friendship, and family dynamics, adding emotional depth to the narrative.

Communication and miscommunication are central themes in “Ex Talk.” The consequences of assumptions, withheld truths, and the significance of direct and honest dialogue are explored as Shay and Dominic navigate their radio charade. Effective communication is highlighted as vital for understanding, trust, and the growth of any relationship.

The transformative power of growth and change is beautifully illustrated in this novel. Shay’s personal journey involves confronting fears, seizing new opportunities, and pushing her own boundaries. Through her experiences, we are reminded that personal growth often requires stepping outside comfort zones and embracing the unknown. Shay’s evolution serves as an empowering example of finding strength, pursuing passions, and embracing change.

In conclusion, “Ex Talk” by Rachel Lynn Solomon is a compelling contemporary romance that delves into themes of authenticity, vulnerability, and personal growth. The relatable characters and intricate relationships resonate with readers, leaving a lasting impact. The novel reminds us of the importance of honesty, communication, and embracing change, creating a memorable reading experience.
So do give it a read !!!


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Rear view

Rear view :
Months passed , the loss persists,
Writing helped , but the pain still exists,
Deeply sceptical about love and wrath,
But I’d promised to never lose faith.

Moving in is mutual , I wish moving on was too,
Sleep is easy after a pill or two,
Waking up with that fake smile is constant,
None of which would have happened,if you weren’t so distant.

The sweeping fierceness which my soul betrayed,
The skill with which wielded the keen blade;
The bright world dim, and everything beside
Seemed like the fleeting image of a shade.
Which no thought of living spirit could abide.

I breathe but it’s not air ,
Something else in the wind,
Calm and empty, a rush of silence,
Yet plenty and whole, a vacuum of stillness,
I seem to have been paused
somewhere along the way.

Now it’s time to resume,
Heading towards the start of the play,
No drum rolls, no intros,
Just a smooth shift of state
In, then, out of time,
A second, maybe less ,
Growth, taking up an instant,
Change, stealing away each moment,
Set to sail on the turbulent waves,
Whose effects are none to
the eyes that witness,
To the ears that listen and
to the hands that touch…

Wishing that maybe
Maybe my soul was carried away,
out into the openness,
Beyond the horizon,
Across the marvels of the universe ,
Perhaps even closer to home,
Maybe there’s a world bigger than the world,
A world that never talks,
A world that never betrays.


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Nyctophile

With colours so tangy and bright,
Why do i feel there’s no light,
woven in the darkness,
Maybe i am ,
What the society terms me a mess,
The imperfect me by the perfect them,
Like a plant to the stem,
I often wonder,
the game of pretendence,
Isn’t it a blunder,
yet we are in its root,
To criticise and to loot.
The self esteem and love ,
The confidence of being unique,
Yes you r right….
I am a disaster a beautiful disaster
#hope #nyctophile #depression #love #poem #poet #poetry #poetrycommunity


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Weaklings


A camouflage of thoughts so deep,
why do people sleep?
With so many secrets buried deep,
Being it forever theirs to keep,
They say whatever they sow they reap,
Yet everything and nothing makes them weep,
They make themselves strong to take the leap,
Building castles when they count the sheep,
Not letting the darkness to creep,
Yet it claws onto the flesh so deep,
coz humans are weak,
Changing minds every week,
brains too mature yet so meek,
so many things to do but,sleep is all they seek,
Yet ,Isn’t that bleak ??
Those humans who sleep as we speak,
Have a different story on their streak
Searching words for their story to speak,
Them trying hard not to weap,
In the land of stronglings they are a freak,
We call them the weaklings,
Trying to hit their peak,
Engraved in the shadows of mystique,
Having darkness yet letting the lights creep,
Scars of battles fought where everyday was a struggle,
They embraced themselves to be weak,
Not letting anyone define them ,
Yet acceptance is all they seek.
They are definitely not meek and freak,
When do we accept them as not weak,
Maybe someday , definition of weak would be antique ,
Till then all the humans can talk ill and they will turn their cheek,
To face all the critique,
They will shine someday so deep,
And the weeklings wouldn’t be called weak,
Yet that someday is faraway and bleak,
Till then all we can do is sleep.

………………………………,……………………………………………..

For some context, I had set the premise of this poem almost 2 years ago, but I only wrote 4 lines and left it at that. But today, when I went through my draft folder, I came up with this in 15 minutes, a personal record even for me, but I am glad I did it because I love every line of it!

So tell me what you feel about this, and I’m eternally grateful for all your comments and emails. It feels great to be a part of the community.

Adios for now !!!!

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Shadows

I have always lived in the shadows,
Not on the pedestal not on meadows,
Hiding from the spotlight, wherever the light goes,
Pulling down the shutters on my windows,
I crucified my tomorrow not believing in magical rainbows,
Because I knew , as tomorrow comes , my darkness grows.

Being alone , with so many unknowns ,
Amidst friends and foes,
Looking at Instagram perfect lives,
Emotions and dreams buried under catacombs,

While my nightmare clings on to me like shadows.
I tried coming out of the shadows ,
yet I felt I was stranded on fallows.
I tried to be someone else , as the author plotted,
Only to be feeling destroyed and haunted.

Fairytales kept reminding me of treasures,
Yet all I could see was an imperfect mess,
Trying to fit in with sleeves of confidence and glow in a dress,

Trying to bloom and stand affirm on my toes with my clothes
Nothing as compared to the spectators on first rows.

We were taught to be princesses not to be shadows,
But I defied the rules , as I was a hot mess,
A consistently inconsistent work in progress .

It took me long to accept me as no less
here in shadows to feel solace in anonymity
Living life with no reservations
For my name would be forgotten someday
Yet I was completely okay to be not okay.

To not be tortured with endless explanations
And expectations,
As I will , probably and mostly be lost in the shadows
Yet I would breathe be happy for being me in a shadow
Being a silhouette, beautiful in an unspoken way
As I peak in from shadows as i m here to stay.


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