We’ve always maintained that the English language is weird. And the list of verbs you are to find in this post is only going to validate our claim, a claim few souls have disagreed with. Wait for a second though! We’ve got a warning! In this post, you may come upon verbs you’d never imagined existed, so you’d better not gasp while reading. When you’re ready, begin!
When half of it had rained off
And half of it remained
The jewels that made it dazzle
Were yet to go away.
A heart-wrenching separation
Between the two took place.
They kissed each other goodbyes,
And from each other’s lives
Got erased forever.
They got erased, forever…
He began to chuckle to himself
when he saw pictures of the joyous moments
he and his wife had shared on the shelf.
He then turned his head
to the other armchair that was empty;
He just stared at it longingly.
He turned his head once again
because he’d thought he
heard from the kitchen
his sweet wife Nan saying ,
‘I’ll put the kettle on dear.’
I’ve built a world inside of me
Where nothing can go wrong,
A world where only I can go,
A place where I belong.
I’m the city
an enigmatic countenance
and a heart redolent of a mirage;
My charismatic appearance
Is a dreamy apparition
breeding frail hope and forbearance!
Winds wind well while cold months, worn, weakened, get wound down;
Assailing coldness that has done a lot of wrongs,
Heralding spring, a season as bright as the Sun
As plants beam, flower, making us sing many songs…
You heard it right!
My classmates used to bully me;
By flaunting their mothers’ profession, they’d thought themselves supreme.
I wanted to teach them a lesson;
By poking me, how could they have fun?
Author Annie Mick started writing in January of 2019 when the ideas and characters crafted in her imagination needed to find their way onto the page. In an exclusive interaction with The Literary Juggernaut, Ms Mick, who currently resides in the state of Colorado in the US, a place where the sunsets are colourful and the mountains make for a beautiful landscape, says when she starts working on a book, she always knows who her main characters will be and the initial plot, but as the plot unfolds, she happens to tweak it. ‘Or it ends up tweaking me!’ she exclaims.
A stellar journey, a cosmic view
an unusual sensation in the space
where a new vision of truth encounters
the spirit in elliptically motion
as the celestial body gets
drawn to earth like me
Author Justin Monroe has always considered himself a writer. Even while struggling with dyslexia at Elementary School, the author, who, beyond a shadow of a doubt, proves to be a great source of inspiration, considered Creative Writing his favourite subject. ‘For my senior project at High School, I wrote my first full-length manuscript and did a research project on the publishing process. Back in 2002, the pathway to being published besides the self-publishing market was so difficult that I moved onto more practical career paths. However, throughout college and most of my life, I always found time to write, whether stories, blog posts or Dungeons and Dragons campaigns,’ he begins, speaking to The Literary Juggernaut in an exclusive interaction.
In the realm of nature love rules all
Unstained affection stands upright and tall!
The love you feel when the wind caresses soft
In autumn evenings, the spirit soars aloft;
When the starlit night hugs you tight
You melt in the grip of the silvery sight.
Understand that I am
hurt on his behalf.
And I am hurt on my
own that anyone
believes I would love
or knowingly contemplate
marrying a man any less
than this true king who
would never willingly
claim this title.
Having established herself as a professional writer, Ms Brett, who can also speak French albeit not very fluently, tells us that one of her works in progress deals with a young woman, a professional violinist, who was in a camp orchestra at Auschwitz. ‘She returns to Montreal in a borrowed body forty years later, meets Leonard Cohen in a café, and together they work to discover her mission. She is a folkloric character, an ibbur, a spirit who returns in corporeal form to do good in the world,’ she lets on.
Oh, mansions seen embellish narrow streets,
Each of which is graced by dire slums as well,
And every man who dwells in slums defeats
The filth of their soul to escape pain, hell;
And each who weens karma exists not meets
Death like those who believe in strength of knell.
Author Matthew P S Salinas first began writing in the fifth grade, which happened to be a time in his life when he adored reading stories of all kinds. This was also the time when he began dreaming of becoming an author one day. Speaking to The Literary Juggernaut in an exclusive interaction, the author and poet, who is currently working on releasing a sequel to his current work besides actively looking for a literary agent and traditional publisher to help him expand his audience and improve the quality of his work even more, says he primarily wrote poetry and was published in Visions Literary Magazine. ‘After that, I went on a hiatus for a while and eventually returned to my roots in poetry and my interest in horror fiction,’ the twenty-seven-year-old American author shares with us.
Going on to aver that writing is a career for him even if he does not make a living at it, Mr Link, who has studied Spanish, Japanese, and Brazilian Portuguese, tells us he thinks authors get too tied to the financial aspect of writing, and that’s not the bar he sets for his success. ‘I want to reach people so they’ll read my stories and enjoy them, not so I can quit my day job. That’s one of the reasons I love Kindle Unlimited. People can read me for free,’ he says.
There is some harmony in chaos,
Mayhem in the way the enemies march to their doom,
The sense of morbid familiarity when the drums are struck,
The beats uniting all the warriors, be it friends or foe.
Having nobody’s shoulder to cry on
The branches shed tons of tears
Gazing at the prostrate body
Of the loved, lifeless bough.
Their throat aches
Along with their heart,
Heart that had snapped into two.
Weeping makes their eyes swell
And they beg for the presence
Of the bough in their lives again
Knowing that it was gone forever.
Yes, it was gone forever.