writing

Pet

 

“With time and patience and enough incentive , anyone can become a pet” , she smiled to herself.

Of course the incentive varies for each species –

She liked to laze in the blue pool while the sharks feasted on the men, their pet brought home.

***

Written for Three Line tales

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writing

Wishes

Ribbons on trees

There is no shame in whispers to a tree
Wishes tied as ribbons to it,
It never is a question of faith;
But how hard you can will it
To evolve from a wish and be true.

Inspired by Patricia’s 5 line prompt

writing

Home again

We meet.

Again.

We meet at the same place.

Like the first time

It is same where you left me.

That wasn’t personal.

I was a fool to walk away from you.

And I would do the same today

You can run away again, if that’s you are wondering.

Yeah, but where will be fun in that

.

.

The cat dropped from the castle wall into her arms.

.

.

Lets go home. The castle rats do not suit my appetite ..

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers

Myself, writing

Newsletter of positive vibes

It started with one of my favorite twitter person starting his newsletter – #SoG ( a daily one ! ) A few months later I subscribed to newsletter of another inspiring lady from twitter and it kind of made me love this mode of communication. It is as private as much it is public , almost like a blog but this one I read in my emails and can respond immediately and directly to the writer. So a few more newsletter subscriptions later , I wanted to try my own. And that’s how “Letters By Prats” started two weeks back.

Yesterday when I was searching for a poem to share , I came across Reena’s exploration challenge and it took me to a time when I had fallen into a pattern of being down and out.

Every silver cloud , was sabotaged by my own attitude and insecurities. The worst part of all this was that I completely botched one of my best friendships during that phase and it’s never been same since. It drained the best of people around me in personal space , to make me stop being so bitter and full of resentments, but it was to no avail. and even today , months and miles away from that feeling , I am never too sure when I might slip into the old habit..

Bigger egos , smaller eyes,

heart so cold , hands clutched tight,

away from sanity , the words go,

accustomed to darkness,

the weak ones will grow..

And that inspired my second poem I shared hoping it finds resonance and helps someone battle the darkness just one more day ! While I can not turn back time and teach myself those lessons earlier , I do hope to never have to live through a moment when I lose faith on myself. It hasn’t been easy , but it has been indeed a huge learning and turning point that I hope I can share better with others and spread positive vibes , in all ways possible. This realization is what I decided to link to Trent’s call for weekly smiles because I have pledged to treat all that life throws at me with first a smile and then probably try not to run away all times 😛

Also linked to #MondayMusings where you can find some interesting thoughts.

PS: If you subscribe to any good newsletter, please share the link.

poetry

Who we are

On paths we unknowingly walk,
shaping ways, says and cares
who we are,is never set in stone.

The story take turns and twists,
imprints of people we carry along
On paths we unknowingly walk

Time like a ribbon,ties them all
memories trapped,soft and strong
shaping ways, says and cares

Never too sure,who we might become
never too proud,of what we were;
who we are, is never set in stone.

 

*****

Written for dVerse Poetics : Cascade Poetry form

 

writing

The woodden benches

Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

The benches lay haphazardly , finished yet not so. They were not polished , painted , or attached to the tables. It would then have  been sent to the community school that ordered them for its park. But the new management decided to have stone benches instead and save on the annual maintenance.

He had not set foot in the workshop since that day. His only passion was in making the benches for the school every year. In months to come,he lost his daughter to demon of dreams. The demon took over her spirit and crushed her dreams. She had been walking with a dead look in her eyes since then. Many kids succumbed to the demon soon and the town now was all silent and gloomy.

It was the travelling sage had convinced the management about the power of the forest. The ancient trees fought the demon and that’s why the benches were only made of the wood from the forest. The town people knew it but have lost the faith as the stories passed to new generations.

He wished it wasn’t too late as he started to work on the benches again.

***

Written for Sunday Photo fiction