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Is there somewhere?

Eyes that are as unforgiving as a thousand seas She’s struggling to let the words escape For behind that plastered smile on her face Lies another universe of reality. And she whispers three shattering words. Is there somewhere? The kids on the bus will leave her alone And her hair will fall perfectly like the actress’ on T.V A place where bliss will touch her heart, A place where she will be eternally free? “Little bird, don’t you worry” The old lady’s voice echoes into the void. Y’know the world’s a dark and cold-blooded place It took your parents and tore them to pieces But I won’t let it take you the same way. And she tucks the girl in to kiss the bruises on her face As the sun goes down and the cold settles in The moonlight lulling over her pale, wrinkled skin And she’s staring at the constellations again Is there someplace, somewhere? She’ll be dancing in his loving arms. And they’ll skip pebbles across the lake like the
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Love

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 heartwar
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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, l
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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! :)  ~Pratya Check out Divya's blog:  http://divyarwrites.b
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Free

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 grand
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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 in
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Feminism

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 w
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