Yesterdays might have made you lose your might,
But bear in mind your will’s stronger than fore
Lots ’bout you I shall will to bring to light
So the world may learn you were meant to soar.
For writers, what is the purpose to set up a smokescreen, apart from flashing their sparks of creativity? Again, a simple answer is this: Nobody likes to read simple things. The creative tools employed by writers actually engage readers in the story, and that’s how storytellers successfully bring the readers to the last page of the book. So what narrative strategies do writers use in their creations? Some of the popular ones are allusion, dramatic irony, humour, imagery, motif, suspense, symbolism and others.
A tangerine sun
Came to rest awhile
Upon the tranquility of a placid sea
Where it sipped at the waters
A’shimmer in the crepuscular haze
As they lapped at the distant horizon
If life throws mud at you, and it quite often will,
You shall remember you are a sown seed!
Can seeds detest earth that helps plants grow? Mud deigns to
Solve all issues faced, fulfil seed’s each need.
However strong the love bond may brew,
The love for the body does wither away
As carnal amour cannot forever stay!
The affinity for beauty that resides in the mind,
The attraction to knowledge is rare to find!
Her eyes tell tales
Even as her mouth mouths words none get.
The day she absented herself,
For her smile is now gone, missing;
Remains now just
A flesh without a soul, conscience.
I am ego, a creation of gifted evolution
Born to create mayhem
Playing devil’s advocate upon the manifested plane, of illusionary realities
Only to be suppressed, and overcome, through devotional practices
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?
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.
Lets-call-her-Lee had long dreamed
of changing her name
and taking a Greyhound
to someplace deemed safe
When I was young, I’d longed to float and fly
Because the welkin charmed, allured me much;
I’d hankered after gladness and pure bliss,
The airy, blue expanse I’d hoped to touch.
When you were thrown right into darkened, foul pits,
Each of which snatched your chilled-out cheer, chastised charm,
I wept, wondered if ever you’d sense the harm
Caused by ones that laughed, staring at you like kits;
Silence is a power
Endowed by gods
The human lineage
And ritualized by the
The sky beams bright
In sparkled shine.
The room lights up in faith.
I breathe in hope.
I feel the strength
Of my invisible army
And embrace their presence.
My journey has not
been easy or short.
And I have no wish
to beat the hurts
like a dead horse.
Much of my life
has been laid out
in my page end
It’s okay to be broken
And let it all out
All the words you’ve left unspoken
That you’re unable to shout
Cry little girl
You’re not out of place
Go right ahead child
Have the tears roll down your face
There’s a world abiding in each where blooms love;
Nothing great can be gained if yon world dies!
I say rear the world now; never ask when.
Would that you could grasp what in yon world lies!
In the mountain where I grew up,
There is a lake that no man has ever seen freeze.
It is not the biggest, but it is the deepest.