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August 13, 2016

Revival - Survival

Solitary existence
Scattered strength
Biding mortar
Firming existence
Pieces congregate
Ego disintegrates
External pressure
Weak in force
Nothing -
Can make me fall
Today I survive
Harsh winds

Like a brick wall.

Write Tribe

August 8, 2016

Thoughtful Words

The quill whispered to the ink, “Spiritless to the world around, we imbibe the sorrows and happiness before the emotions are deciphered by others.”

“Hush,” retorted the ink. “Keep steady, or I may spill.” “Let the wary thoughts flow on the white sheets for it's time to help the jittery heart reclaim the lost rhythm.”

This post has been written for Prompt of the Month; a feature of Writer's Ezine


August 7, 2016


Personally, I feel promises make things stringent. Otherwise one may be relaxed and if not preoccupied try to their best carry out the things as decided. To me it is just like the times I put an alarm only to find myself awake if a few hours waiting for the clock to ring.

This time I participated in this BarAThon and lo! Here I have successfully completed the seven days without much effort and burden. Apart from writing I even managed to visit the blogs of fellow blog-mates.

I would not categorize it as promise but something on the same lines where I wish to complete the tasks without the pressure to succeed or win. Hope to make through other tasks and works with equal zest and happiness as this one.

Aug 7th: Promise (to yourself/someone else)

August 6, 2016

Wishful Thinking

Proof of agony still gripped her soul; words like the dart still pierced her ears. Longing since long she yearned for a drop of love and tinge of care in her barren life.

Nothing can change a person obsessed with self and fond of pity, however, she still carried hope in her heart.

Who knows…?


Aug 6th: Wishful thinking

August 5, 2016

Still There Inside the Heart

Baby Girl Shoes Christmas or Hanging Ornament
Reminiscent of the one, who never reached her
Tracing the void that was never filled
Pressing hard the bosom that never held her close
Tiny Shoes still hung by the wall.

The unseen face that still fills his dreams
The tears that hide behind the dry eyes
She was his angel whom he never saw

Tiny shoes still hung by the wall.


Aug 5th: Tiny shoes

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Ira's bookshelf: read

Dreams from My Father
Northanger Abbey

Ira's favorite books »