Greetings from yesterday.
This poem is on a on a more chilled out note compared to a few other poems I’ve been writing lately. So you might notice a slightly different writing style. Tell me if you like it in the comments. I got a prompt from TTT to write a poem on ‘if memories wrote back’. This is it. I hope you enjoy it 🙂
I’ve spent days wondering what I’d do
Continue reading Greetings from yesterday.
if someday, my mailbox overflowed
with letters from my yesterdays.
I’ve imagined opening my mailbox
and being greeted by 2008 ‘my first movie in theatres’
or one of my ‘drunk voicemails to exes’,
maybe even that trip to Troy.
I’d shuffle through the pack of letters from my yesterdays
and read a bunch.
The title is also the precaution I’d like you to take before reading the poem. While this post is fictitious, I don’t know where the line stops. So help me out, okay?
I wrote this because I know how tough it can be with triggers all around you. This post is not going to help heal you but maybe it’ll let you know we all have triggers. If you don’t know what triggers your friend’s bad memory, ask and try to not hurt them. It’ll mean so much to everyone. I hope you like this poem. Enjoy 🙂
Triggers come in all shapes and sizes.
Continue reading Trigger alert.
A moving train,
a pizza boy, an autumn leaf,
26 alphabets, crop-tops,
anger, the chains of a swing.
It could be anything.
Little pockets of love.
Hey! I’ve seen people search for love so much, I decided to write something on a part of it. This is my attempt. It’s about where a certain someone looks for love and where she’ll end up finding it. Do tell me if you like it. Give me prompts in the comments below and follow me on Instagram! I post written stuff there too. Enjoy 🙂
I’ve seen you look for love
Continue reading Little pockets of love.
in everything that is over-sized.
You went to beaches,
hoping love would hop out of the waves
looking very metaphor-esque.
You stared at the moon,
waiting for it to confess
that it has hidden ‘the one’ in
the folds of its white poetry paper.
You asked the mountains if they had seen it,
hoping love was somewhere in the brown maze.
Instead, they echoed back tales
of lost men with galaxy eyes.
I tried very hard to make this not so crazy. Tell me if it worked? Comment down below and let me know if you liked it, if there should’ve been any changes, or anything else. If you really really like it, share it with people.
“When I was seven, my father and I went on a little trip to a city close by for five days. A mini-vacation to Bologna filled with questions and games. On the fourth day, when we were both tired of the games, I decided to ask him all kinds of questions. There were questions about Shakespeare and Frost, about Pizza and cheese, about answers I’d never gotten in my bedtime stories, and about mom. When I asked him why mom wasn’t with us anymore, he answered it with a sentence that shaped my life enough that I ended up here.”
Continue reading Dilruba Samandar
Broken things stay.
I love personifying things that matter in our lives. I’ve done it with Heaven and Hell, with Time, and now this. Poetry and love has to be two of the most important things on that list. So yeah, here’s my attempt that making Poetry and Love just like you and me. Comment below and give me prompts! Enjoy!
Poetry was a twenty year old,
Continue reading Broken things stay.
5’7”, super shy but very flirty.
His escape from reality was through metaphors and similes.
“They are the shoulders I choose to cry on,”
he said all the time.
He loved red flowers, beaches, cliches,
and some of the weird things too,
like having Pizza on mountains.