Rhythmic Reveries of a Ruminating Mind — “I have learned silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet strange, I am ungrateful to these teachers.” — Kahlil Gibran I relate to the above quote so much because of the varied experiences I have gone through in this beautiful life. It is nice to be back writing again. A sense of peace prevails. Otherwise, since this past year, it has been chaotic. Not that there were not any failures…

My Thoughts! — Are you perfect and normal without any instability in life? If you or any of us think we are normal and don’t have any such issues, it is only an assumption. At some point in our lives, we would have gone through some form of minor mental illness. …

Poem — Like some trees shrouded by leaves, my quiet is cloaked in chaos. I ponder on my past – a past filled with memories, a past filled with neglect, a past very pleasant, a past very painful, a past lost in time, a past lost in waiting, a past prey to…

Personal Perspectives — “Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you.” — Shannon L. Alder Legacy is about many things — not just wealth, property, and other materials. Our principles and core values, honesty, the way we treat…

Free Verse Poem — I am a mere being, guide me on the righteous path. I am a mere writer, guide me on true creativity. I am flawed, I am not perfect, save me from declaring others’ flaws. I am hurt and mangled, do not let me hurt others. I am a mere learner, grant…

Prose Poem — With an orangish hue cast over it and spilling over my world, the sky grabs my attention, a peaceable feeling, it is… I take a deep breath and bask in its warmth. A distinct aroma permeates the fresh air. …

Free Verses —

Personal Perspectives — The general impression of scrap (old, used/useless materials, junk, trash) to me was, it was either to be sold to a scrap dealer or disposed of, as I had seen people around me doing so. My father used to do so only for newspapers, as we did not have that…

Poem — A silent ailment so innate in your entire psyche, crimson embers consuming you bit by bit, but you don’t realize the ruins within. This lets you behave odd, even though you look normal — because your entire psyche is burning. And when you cannot tolerate, and spew out the crimson embers, you…