Loving him, I loved myself.
Loved life. I’m not afraid anymore.
He is a blanket of warmth and safety when winds are howling and wrecking havoc at my doors.
Loving him, I loved myself.
Loved life. I’m not afraid anymore.
He is a blanket of warmth and safety when winds are howling and wrecking havoc at my doors.
I don’t like to be figured out. What’s the point then. I’ll be like any other woman walking down the street.
I’m not mundane. I’m not what you will ever be able to define.
And, I’m definitely not you will be able to hold.
I’m a torrent of wave that would sweep you off the shore and reshape your world.
The idea was to have a nightcap
But, the night has its own mind
No lullaby, it sang
Heart bared itself, drenched my soul into the downpour of the emotions
Locked, deep inside
Scared me.
Left me witless.
Yes.
But, I had the most beautiful night
That night.
When his words resonated and set fire to my soul
The night was beautiful, so is the love.
Shayari Dil Se
Re-Telling Stories
Woh kare baat toh har lafz se khushboo aaye, Aisi boli wohi bole jise Urdu aaye. -Poet Ahmed Wasi-
Law and the Political
reviews and reflection
A World of Books
Illegible manifestation of postmodern debris
My stray musings--- This blog is written with my family and immediate circle of friends as intended readership, so everyone may not connect with some of the events or places described; not that I have any objections to others reading it. In fact, they are most welcome--
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
George Orwell's domestic and political diary entries, posted 70 years to the day after they were written
Musings and chronicles on life, work, film, culture, politics, etc.
Something always escapes!
On Books, Reading and other Delightful Things
An Online Archive of Modern Indian Poetry
Life has always been interesting...
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Life has always been interesting...
Life has always been interesting...