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
Your will is waned as soul is weakened, slain;
Your heart never has rest ergo, my boy.
And if your mind’s maimed since work’s gone in vain,
You have forgotten each plot, lost the ploy.
Your mien is calming, eyes are charming,
And you laugh like you’ve never laughed fore;
Your look’s amusing, voice quite musing,
With you I have experienced no bore.
I seek your bosom soft.
You embrace me, hold my hand;
Ameliorated, my spirit soars aloft!
How like an angel you transport us
To a land of delectable dreams
Where oblivion descends, peace reigns
And nectar flows like streams!
Unlike Mathematics and other related disciplines that deal with numbers, the field of Arts is concerned with human emotions, experiences, and observations. Probably for this reason, its effectiveness and quality cannot be measured on any numeric scale. Time and again, in the world of Literature, among myriad other things, writers, critics and readers have articulated their views and opinions about Style of Writing. And until now, nobody has come to any final and solid conclusion; the debate will continue as long as the moon and sun appear in the sky. However, readers, if not critics, agree that simple writing style is more attractive and consumable.
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.
Put down your spade that digs the hole
Where all your dreams have gone,
And drop the heavy handed blade
You bled your memories on.
Let go the voice that cried in vain
And burnt away your soul;
Come on, my brother, take my hand,
For we are going home.
I saw god today,
He smiled at me through the beaming eyes of a giggling child.
I felt god today,
He was in the warm glow of the sun shining through the fluffed, feathered clouds.
Looking out of my window, I see birds fluttering and flying in the breeze,
Squeaking and chirping o’er canopies to search seclusion for nesting in peace.
With the yawning cerulean, they flap the first stroke of their wings,
And into the abysmal blue; in merriment, they fly amidst the cloudy rings.
Tick tock goes the clock!
Time won’t let us dock.
Keep on moving. Act.
Action is Auspicious.
Everything that happens,
Happens for the best.
Time travellers take no rest.
Perhaps the universe
Is taking a test?
Perhaps the universe
Is taking place
Within a test?
How can I forget
those long walks, those long talks?
Those endless hours of plucking flowers?
Those mindful roams around winding roads?
Those flying kites and those starry nights?
Making a huddle while playing in the puddle?
Chasing dragonflies and chasing butterflies?
Smelling the petrichor after the rains galore?
The winsome smile after running a mile?
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 will treasure everything of you like the gems of wisdom a scholar keeps in the coffer of his mind. When I look at your smile, in my heart, poems take birth. As a chivalrous lover, I want to proffer them to you. For you are my poetry.
Her legs are now treading artfully,
Stopping once she reaches her destination;
She’s content, for schools are now reopened,
Gladdened is she at the prospect of
Meeting new students,
And… making money.
She has never been to school though.
Lifeless stood the trees
Bare of leaf in a silent forest
Where no living creature ventured
Inert was the night sky
Expressionless and inscrutable of regard
Devoid of sparkle from stars
Empty of meteor or cosmic dust
My brother was called point five since his walk
Was like that of a lass and likened much
To dames that were abiding far; his speech
Was quite high-pitched, possessing girlish touch.
The folks he was acquainted with would breach
Rules made, not one or two or three but each.