Wednesday, August 10, 2016


Apparently this is called a pantoum poem. So a lot of lines are repeated because that's the style.
Dedicated to Shreya who introduced these kind of poems to me :) (THANK YOUU)

 Love, the only thing that is everlasting
Making you feel like life is a walk in the park.
It's unequivocal, beautiful, out of this world but right there
It brings home the sun when you think everything's dark

Making you feel like life is a walk in the park,
Warm and spreading throughout your body like flames
It brings home the sun when you think everything's dark.
It's hidden in the beginning, but worth the wait

Warm and spreading throughout your body like flames
Love can be sweet or bitter, but worth the sacrifice.
It might be hidden in the beginning, but it's worth the wait
The heartwarming smile that makes your day

Love can be sweet or bitter, but worth the sacrifice.
It's unequivocal, beautiful, out of this world but right there
The heartwarming smile that makes your day
Love, the only thing that is everlasting.

Weird! It was easy to write because I didn't have to think of too many lines. :D
Thanks for reading!

Monday, August 8, 2016

Free (part two)

Hello! Before reading this, please read "Free" which is two posts below.

What you are reading now, is the story that the old lady is narrating to her granddaughter Violet. Enjoy! :)

It's the year of 1861. A time when the whites are prejudiced against the blacks. Blacks are treated as no more than a piece of gum on a shoe and are forced into slavery by southern whites.
The North and South are in constant battle, with slaves and abolitionists pushing for rebellion and yearning for their freedom.
A young country that was mostly formed in harmony has been split into debating whether to retain slaves or not.
Racism exists everywhere.
It's chaotic. It's bloody. It's the Civil War.

The happening streets of Montgomery split into a couple of paths.
One of these paths led to the house of the most prosperous man in town. He lived in one of the most imposing houses that you could find in Alabama. His name was Joseph Williams.
Mr.Williams' wife had died, leaving him with a beautiful young daughter who was named Ann, after her mother. As you might expect, Ann was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She was terribly spoiled from the day she was born, and simply expected everyone to obey her.
The amount of money that Mr.Williams spent on his daughter was enough to sustain 20 slave families.
Being a wealthy planter, the Williams owned at least 25 slaves who worked on the farms, cooked, and attended to Ann's many needs.

Despite all of the luxuries that Ann had, she was unhappy. She had a list of admirers and girls who copied her style. Her slaves did everything that she demanded. But Ann longed for a real friend.
She was starting to get on her father's nerves because he expected more from her and wanted her to continue his business of plantation farming some day.

Ann wasn't interested in plantation farming though. All she wanted to do was design clothes. There were days when she just sat in her room, sketching ideas of dresses and wishing she was more...useful.
While her father worked, she would look at the slaves outside and feel jealous that they were all friends and at least knew where they were going with their life. After a few moments she would feel guilty though, wondering why she needed so many slaves.  

Everything changed when she met Lilly.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Weasel-Brained Apricot

First of all, sorry for not posting for a really long time! I was really busy with a summer course.
Anyways, Divya challenged me to use "weasel brained apricot" in a poem. I accepted, so here you go. Get ready for a bunch of weirdness and lameness.

That weasel brained apricot.

You may be as as nutty as a fruitcake,
Maybe as stingy as a turnip,
Pessimistic like a mushroom
Or socially awkward like a fig.

Some might say that you're different,
Or unappealing like an avocado,
Politically incorrect like a banana
Or as misogynistic as a beetroot.

Strangers will occasionally mention,
That you're as lame as an apple,
Ignorant compared to a grape
Or loathsome like a pineapple.

You might be a supporter of Trump,
or an outcast like pomegranates
But no matter who you are
you won't be that weasel brained apricot.

Congratulations if you got through this poem! 
Leave comments for themes! :) 

Check out Divya's blog:

Sunday, June 19, 2016


This is dedicated to Vivien because I use the name Violet haha
This is just the first part of my story, I didn't want to put too much in one post. 

“Tell me a story,” she says.

The pulsating glow of the fire illuminates the dark night.
The campfire continues to blaze and the wind blows harshly, as if determined to extinguish the fire. Charred marshmallows lay on the ground and a crooked tent is shabbily set up nearby.
Apart from hoots of owls and the sound of wind blowing against the tent, it is a quiet night.

“Tell me a story grandma,” the girl repeats. Her bright blue eyes are wide with anticipation and for a second, the old lady thinks she's looking at her son, the girl's father.
She closes her eyes and leans back against the rocking chair.
It seemed like only yesterday. As if it were yesterday that the girl had been brought into the cruel world. As if it was yesterday when the girl’s parents had died, leaving the old lady with a five year old granddaughter to take care.
It felt like it was only yesterday when the old lady had told young Violet the story of the hare and the tortoise when they were waiting in the doctor’s office.
It had been their ritual ever since then.

“Grandma,” the 16 year old girl says again, failing to keep the impatience out of her voice.
The old lady snaps out of her little daydream. “What will it be this time, the cat and the hat?”
Violet’s rolls her eyes in mock exasperation. “No.”
“Well, I don't think I can make up a story now.”
Violet’s face brightens. “Why don't you tell me about something that happened to you?”
The old lady chuckles. “What good will that do, dear? You will probably fall asleep.”
Violet studies the fire for a while, a solemn expression on her face. “It's okay. I want to hear.”

The old lady clears her throat and begins.

Falling Leaves

So I was supposed to write an article about nostalgia but I didn't know how to do it, so I wrote a poem instead. Dedicated to my cousins Aditya and Anjali. ♥

Theme creds: Ritu

She stands there proud and tall,
Leaves fluttering in the breeze,
Her stance is that of a queen
Arms stretched out toward the sky.

The grass underneath is wet with dew,
Her leaves' gossip is without an end,
Robin nests cover her hair,
Her wisdom protecting them all.

The sun gleams bright from above,
Children playing under her shade,
Her branches sway from side to side,
The eternal bliss evident on her face.

When autumn arrives,
summer takes its final breath.
The warmth disappears,
the cold creeps in instead.

She takes off her mask,
and the leaves begin to fall down.
Swirling and twirling till they hit the ground,
Leaves of orange, red and brown.

She stands still with shock,
Branches frozen in surrender.
The rain begins to pour,
Reflecting her dismay.

She feels sad and incomplete,
Nothing more than a small shrub,
Her branches start to weep
And her trunk shrinks from its tall self.

Winter arrives, mighty and harsh,
The cold is evil, biting at her trunk.
No leaves or birds are there to defend her
She stands alone, small with sorrow.

Summer arrives again,
And the sun seems to shine brighter,
The grass becomes softer
And the leaves chattier than ever.

She cries with relief,
Cherishing the joyous moment,
She realized the worth of the leaves
Only when they left her.

I should probably branch out more and try different writing. (See what I did there)
Sorry I shall leaf now and find a better pun.

Thanks for reading! Leave a comment for theme ideas! :)

Saturday, June 4, 2016


A slightly satirical article on society and feminism.
Dedicated to Ritu  because she's awesome ♥

Flowers are fascinating.
When you think of flowers you might think of a breathtaking garden, a romantic bouquet or the vase of withered flowers that every family has had. You might even think of flowers that look pretty in your hair or on statues in temples.
What’s common about all these things is that they’re used for decor and beauty. Flowers are a symbol of allurement. They solely seem to exist for the the purpose to look attractive. And that’s exactly how society views women.                

Let’s talk about feminism.
Feminism is simply the the advocacy of women's rights on the grounds of political, social, and economic equality to men. In other words, it’s the enforcement that men and women should have equal rights in all ways. But since when has society not exaggerated something that started out fairly innocent?

There are mixed opinions on feminism. Some women seem to have their own definition of it. They think of it as the fact that women are better than men, and men are distasteful creatures. In our society, being a feminist means you're uncontrollable and plain wild. You will pull the sexism card if anyone makes a single comment about a woman’s body, and men are to be spat upon, for centuries of regarding women as nothing more than mere housewives.

Believe it or not, women like these are the reason we have anti-feminists which are an entirely different species.
It seems shocking, if not messed up that a woman does not support a movement that should be beneficial for herself. But keep in mind that we are considering society’s definition of feminists.

It’s like adding too much pepper to a simple dish. When you add a little bit, it seems appealing and refreshing without becoming too spicy. Some might want more than a little, to prove that they can take on more spice and flavour. Then there are others who dump all of the pepper on their dish, exhibiting their courage by eating it.

Anti-feminist women are afraid of becoming the type of people who dump all of the pepper on their plate. They do not want to be outside society’s norm or seen as different. Because of the definition that has been given to modern feminism, feminism has become a shame rather than the pride to being a girl.

There are many other reasons not to support feminism. Some women ignorantly claim that they support equal rights but not feminism. But that’s like saying water is better than H₂O.
Some do not want to ‘give up men’ or come off as a freak.

Feminism should not be used as an epithet because it’s disrespectful to people who have been campaigning against thousands of years of injustice. Anyone can be a feminist, ranging from a reformer to a housewife to a young boy.
Flowers are actually used in the medical field. Begonias can heal rashes and burns and Gardenias alleviate stress or depression.
They are still beautiful but more than just that.
So ladies and gentlemen, instead of pushing away, lean in and embrace feminism.

~Pratya :)

Not a perfect article but I hope you liked it! Leave a comment for feedback or a theme and I'll get to it as soon as possible!

Monday, May 30, 2016


Though this is for anyone who faces depression, I can't really dedicate it to them because everyone has been sad before.
Sadness is a weird emotion. Apart from the obvious, it's different from happiness for a key reason.
It's easier to remember a sad moment than a happy moment. I had a dog named Leo and it's easier to recall how disappointed I was when we gave him away rather than how content I was when he was there.

So before I turn this into a depressing story or article, let me tell you one thing. You cannot stay down in a boxing ring. You will always get back up for the fight.

This is a collab poem I wrote with Divya and it was awesome working with her. Hope you like it!

Sadness curls around your heart,
You fight her in vain but all hope is lost.
An infernal storm fires up inside,
All your joy has been turned to dust.

Your soul has had too much to take,
You see an array of decisions that you could make.
The gloom settles in, the curtains long drawn,
Everything pleasant seems to be gone.

Flashbacks of terror and days of pain,
Finally shatter you under the strain.
The ropes had bound you far too tight,
It was at last that you saw the light.

There’s no sunshine without darkness,
Nor is there victory without fight.
No matter how broken you feel,
The pieces will fix and you will take flight.

Sadness is no enemy,
But a blessing in disguise.
Spreading throughout your body,
Giving you strength as it ignites.

~By Pratya and Divya

Comment below for a topic!