Tag Archives: poetrycommunity

Haiku – AIR

Here are some haikus in which I emphasised on the word “air”:

1.
In the morning air,
Fresh and crisp without a care,
Nature’s grace is so rare.

2.
High up in the air,
Birds in flight, a graceful pair,
Freedom fills the dare.

3.
Balloons in the air,
Colours soaring, light as prayer,
Joy beyond compare.

4.
Whispers on the air,
Secrets shared, a bond to bear,
Trust beyond compare.

5.
Kites dance in the air,
Strings of joy, laughter to spare,
Childhood memories there.

6.
Sailboats on the air,
Breezes guide, waves rise and flare,
Adventures declare.

7.
Mist hangs in the air,
Veiling landscapes everywhere,
Mystery to share.

8.
Wind in the night air,
Sings a lullaby with care,
Dreams float everywhere.

9.
The scent of flowers in the air,
Blossoms sweet, beyond compare,
Perfume to declare.

10.
Rainbows in the air,
Colours arc, a vivid glare,
Nature loves to wear.

11.
Breezes kiss the air,
Leaves in dance, a tender pair,
Autumn’s love to bear.

12.
Waves crash in the air,
Ocean’s power, grand and rare,
Nature’s force laid bare.

13.
Fireflies in the air,
Glowing stars with grace to spare,
Summer’s magic, where?

14.
Hopes float in the air,
Dreams aloft, free as a dare,
Future’s canvas, wear.

15.
Whispers on the air,
Secrets shared, love’s sweet affair,
Heartbeats, love’s heartbeat.

16.
Birdsong fills the air,
Morning’s chorus, bright and clear,
Nature’s gift to share.

17.
Mist veils in the air,
Morning’s soft and tender prayer,
Day’s beauty laid bare.

18.
Dandelions in the air,
Seeds of wishes hope to bear,
Nature’s dreams declare.

19.
Stars twinkle in the air,
Cosmic wonders, beyond compare,
Night’s grandeur, we stare.

20.
Balloons in the air,
Upward bound, lighter than air,
Celebration’s flair.

21.
Snowflakes in the air,
Blanket of white, pristine and fair,
Winter’s frosty care.

22.
Leaves whirl through the air,
Autumn’s palette, colours rare,
Nature’s art to wear.

23.
Thunder rumbles in the air,
Storm’s fury, a wild affair,
Nature’s power there.

24.
Sunrise paints the air,
Golden hues, a day’s first glare,
Morning’s light to share.

25.
Love is in the air,
Hearts entwined, beyond compare,
Eternal, a pair.


So , comment down 👇 your haikus using the word air and we can create a chain I guess !!!!

Thankuu for sticking with me guys !!!

You have no idea how important you guys are to me

Sending you lots of love !!!!


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Continue reading Haiku – AIR

Changes in Spring

In the gentle, warm embrace of spring, .
It sparked a new life, a strange pursuit.
Flowers burst in a riot of colors, .
When nature wakes up from hibernation.

The sun goes up, the days grow longer,
We are all part of this rhythm of renewal.
The flowers burst in delicate grace, .
A moment of hope, a sticky embrace.

Robin’s song fills the morning air, .
A desire for happiness, unmatched.
The fields are grass and lush green, .
Beauty everywhere, a must-see.

Leaves begin to sprout from the bare trees, .
A whisper of life, no doubt.
The floral scent is sweet and very gentle.
As nature designs and harmonizes landscapes.

The bees dance in the gentle breeze, .
Between flowers and leaves, not so hard.
The bees gather pollen and sing,
Everything in this world in reincarnation has passed away.

The rivers are crystal clear.
The essence of life flows, without fear.
Animals wake up from hibernation, .
They are blessed with spring renewal.

Children laugh and play in the sun,
Their happy, harmonious voices.
As the winter hold strength provides the grip, .
A new chapter of life begins to unfold.

So, embrace this moment, pure and divine, .
A valuable sign of nature’s renewal.
hope, change, the infinite art of life, .
The beauty of spring always warms the heart.


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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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Why did I stop writing?

This week was ideally one of my good weeks. This blog of mine took off really well, and I have you guys to thank for that!
I had started blogging years ago and earned decent money from it too,gained a massive following but then I decided to delete it one fine morning.Yes I was dumb .But something in me broke that day.I hated that piece of me , I just wanted it to be erased and just like that my blog disappeared from the face of the internet and my life.

Everything triggered it, and I couldn’t handle it. People saw me broken and had so many assumptions. Some friends of mine even called me “dark and twisted” because my poetry genre was that. One day, it was just the tip of the iceberg when a friend of mine told me that I have two completely different personalities when it comes to the friend they know and the blog they read. I was so scared of people around me having opinions that I stopped blogging . Initially , i thought I would take a week off and get back to it .But whenever I sat down to write , i could see weird gazes and interpretations of me running in their head , some even vocalising it clouding the words and my emotions and I couldn’t put anything on the paper .I was scared , scared to be not accepted . And that made me claustrophobic, my own poetry made me claustrophobic.And I decided to stop blogging.

Now that I think about it, I knew it was immature of me to do that, but that 19 year-old didn’t know any better! Even people’s compliments felt fake and a conversation starter. They assumed I was too smart, but I wasn’t. I just had some teeny tiny creative juices flowing in my overthinking brain. Sometimes, I hate myself for that because I really want to shut my brain down and give myself a break too.

But now I have regrets. I have regrets about killing my baby when it was at its highest point. Regrets of disappointing lakhs of people , regrets that maybe my old blog would have reached at a height that I could never fathom.But looking back, would I do it again? Yes . A complicated answer for a very simple question .This “yes” has so many layers attached to it. The insecurities in me wasn’t happy with the immense response that it got. Even with this blog, the views, likes, and comments all seem so surreal as I have just started. The fear of being inside that glassbox someday is something that I am constantly working on, trying to not let it tackle me down again this time.I know all this sounds like I m selfish and all I care for is numbers . Honestly, no.I’m not a number person, but I do like to be appreciated and being acknowledged for what I write. Because growing up, I wasnt. Trauma does have a boomerang effect.I guess so !! The warmth of you guys relating to it keeps my juices flowing , sparks my creative wires, keeps me going.

Why am I writing this? Because today I felt the same thing—the fear of being judged for what I write? Would I be considered “dark and twisted” or am I mature enough? The overthinking went on overdrive till I started scribbling in my diary, and I honestly realized I couldn’t change the way people look at me. Some may consider me annoying, others too intellectual, and some crazy, but the real ones know me for me. Like me for who I am—and poetry is a part of me—this chaotic mess of words ,wittiness and emotions.
And I missed blogging. Seriously, I missed writing poetry and putting it out there, and I guess it’s okay. Because this is how I am true to myself, by being the real me. It was so hard to stay away from all this for the past two years, and I also know for a fact my writing isn’t at its peak, but it’s okay because I write for myself;i m happy , in a safe space of my own as the perfect poetry for me is my own.
Why did I crib so much today? Because today I had a conversation with my friend about how he missed my poetry and our open mics. He told me he missed my writing, and that’s when I opened up to him about my fears and the cycle of thoughts that led me to that standstill. He said I was an idiot, which I agree with, but moreso, I was too scared of being overwhelmed by people’s opinions and these rationalizations of the type of person that I was just because of my poetry, as I was used to being on the sidelines. It took me a lot of time to accept the broken, unbroken me, but I’m happy. happy to be back .

It’s so easy to fall into prejudices, and I just want to tell you it’s okay. But what’s more important is to pick yourself up and surround yourself with the louder voices of empathetic people who can shut the voices in your head. Because sometimes we do make dumb decisions, but what matters is how we deal with them afterwards and the choices we make to counter them.

Is it a philosophical class ? No , but I wanted to put it out there , I am not a perfect writer , nobody is . I have made dumb decisions and it’s okay .Just write for yourself , do what makes you happy . People can create illusions but what matters is how you paint them in your head .It took me a long time to figure this out . Letting go of all this wasn’t easy but i am glad I am painting my castle on my own .I am glad to have your back because I promise to be better.
 
 
 P.s . Yes , this isn’t a typical blog format with a proper structure but Im happy with it nevertheless , the chaos in me is what comes on my blogs and thats what makes it real and me. I promise I wouldn’t leave you guys stranded this time.

Thanku for staying till the end!!!

Questions

It’s like life is teaching me the same lesson.
Different chapters, but always the same question,
Is there something for which to strive for perfection?
Is it okay to be ordinary and not be an exception?
All the questions haunted me, and I stood at an interception.
felt like I was running in circles with no satisfaction.
I was functioning with aggression.
Being suffocated by oppression and depression 
I was seeking an explanation.
“Was I the weapon for my own destruction?”
Felt like amidst recession with no option 
My subconscious played it as a replay of an obsession.
I didn’t realize it was a cry and a call for introspection.

 

After lot of thoughts,conversations and suggestions
I figured something that i would like to mention
There’s no steady set direction ,
Everything is just a perception
Everyone has a different progression
At the end what matters is dedication
Because life is no fiction , 
Everything is a demonstration with convention
After every downfall, you are worthy of a resurrection
It’s okay to anticipate, exaggerate even question,
As there’s no such thing as salvation,
And this is my confession and realisation 
You are a prized possession , with flavours of complexion
Find your connection, empathise with your question
As you should admire your reflection.
 


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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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