Keyboard warrior
There are twenty six alphabets
strong enough
to make someone’s day,
or make you fall in love,
maybe even hold destruction by the scruff
of its neck and save the planet.
You can raise toasts, gods, hell
and sing them lullabies.
You can turn humans into life-savers.
There are twenty six alphabets
at the core of every soul.
A storyteller’s guide.
Hey! I honestly don’t know if it’s a guide from a storyteller to us normal people about life or it’s a guide to storytellers, so I decided to let it be both (Like Theon was both a Stark and a Greyjoy – Game of Thrones reference). I hope you like it! Do tell me if you do. The comments section is all yours. Show some love?
Hidden in the blankets of old streets in Paris was a blue house. A story-teller lived in this house that smelled of the ocean. His name was Zale.
Zale’s house was filled with objects that he’d collected over time that represented different story-telling principles. A black toy gun from when he was eight was framed in a glass box to remind him of Chekhov’s Gun concept. His (now dead) bird’s cage hung from the fan in his living room but its tiny gate was open to suggest artistic license. A ball-pen placed on his first ever tablet to characterize Juxtapose.
Continue reading A storyteller’s guide.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
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.
Trigger alert.
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.
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
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.
My Spirals 