A bridge for love

The mild breeze rustled her hair,

As tiny smile played on her lips.

Standing by the river, reminiscing,

The memories always left a tear behind.

 

She saw a distant light,

Shining like crystals hidden afar.

Like pearls beneath,

The pristine pure water of the river.

 

‘If the stars above wish,

we would meet here again.’

The words echoed in her ears,

His voice etched clear in her memory.

 

She unfisted her palm,

Revealing a stone,

A wish whispered to,

and hidden safe in it.

 

She held the stone close to her chest,

Took a deep breath,

Threw it in the river,

All her hopes tied to it.

 

Land and water away,

At another fag end of the river,

The water splashed and circled,

One more stone drifting deep beneath.

 

There were hundreds of stones,

Small and big, black or white,

But all carrying a secret,

A wish hoping to be fulfilled.

 

Spring passed taking away its very own scent,

Followed Summer with all the shine,

And then came Autumn,

Shedding all the leaves and their guards with it,

Arrived winter, locking everyone behind doors.

 

The stones knew no summer nor winter,

For they held the wishes to their heart.

When the sun came out after very long,

Everything cracked along the frozen lake.

 

With every tiny crack,

The rocks set off gliding.

Up and higher they traveled,

Yet never apart.

 

Together they rose on the river,

Connecting all the ends,

A bridge it was , that rose,

All the wishes holding it in place.

 

A bridge for hearts to travel,

A bridge for hands to meet,

A bridge for the years to come,

A bridge for love!

….Sara

 

p.c : renatures.com

The rain shall pour

The sky was grey,
and so was the water.
Spanning far and wide,
as the narrow lake laid low.

Hidden behind the mountains,
the clouds played a game of peek a boo.
Catching us when we least expected it,
hugging us from tip to toe.

As mild showers it started,
like a triggered tremble.
Pouring, it came down,
drenching everything wet.

Too much attention seeking is the nature,
so forceful is its friend, the wind,
It blows the digitally made blinds,
to turn off their screens, getting a hold.

Hot Indian snacks,
disco dance in my heart,
Circling my mind,
hard to wade off.

Good music would have elevated the mood,
yet never like the rickety old train,
Wobbling its way through the town,
Rhythmic and classic.

Dear mighty mountain,
adorning huge trees,
Dark clouds hidden behind,
secret conspiracy meet?

Are you angry or happy?
I failed to guess.
Yet, you are the best form of beauty,
I’ve ever met.

….Sara

Create your own recipe of life

There was food on my plate today.
In fact, there is every day.
But how far do we appreciate it day after day?

Sometime it’s so skillful and so captivating,
That we blow kisses,
Or call out loud, yum.

Yet, when there is one tiny pinch of extra
salt or vinegar or chili,
turns out to be so uninviting.

When we were young, we were fed,
with love and care,
expecting no return.

Yet today you get your own groceries,
and crave for mom’s bad omelet.
Appreciation, be it food or life,
Grows as we grow with it.

For life is just like the food we eat,
They are made in different colors and shapes,
Some with attractive toppings,
so pleasing just to watch.
So goes the saying,
Appearances are deceptive,
For food and for people.

We all need the right dosage of sugar, salt and lemon,
at some point in our lives.
And when we mix it all up,
We screw it all up.

Life is about the food you cook,
But you don’t always have to know the recipe.
Toss in and roast all that you want,
Eventually you will create your own recipe,
Today or someday.

….Sara

P.S: I am not even sure why I am publishing this. Yet, one of my rambling as it goes.. Happy Sunday, folks 🙂

Paris

The enchanting trees,
Leaves and flowers.
The pristine water,
Cloud in the clear sky.

Awe filled in,
So tall the buildings.
Crisp cold air,
Blowing kisses to the Eiffel.

Wind in your hair,
Pedal to your feet.
Romance in the air,
French in thy tongue.

Bonjour to the city of love,
Sublime in every inch.
Visited in photographs and stories,
Dreamt in books and poems.

When I go to Paris..
The city of love,
When this dream of mine comes true,
I would not click pictures,
I would not write poems,
I would not strum my guitar.

I would sit back,
Stretch my legs,
Draw in a breath,
And savor it all..

….Sara

An unbiased gift

A caresses of the ocean’s wind,

Constant kisses from the never ending waves,

The radiant glow of God’s own Sun,

Enlightening the beyond and beneath..

 

A soft brush of an uninvited breeze,

A million sparkling crystals from the heaven above,

The cold blow of winter’s chill,

The bluest of the sky, clouds and comets..

 

A moon lit magnificent sky,

Donning the jewels of sparkling stars,

Yet never enough light,

For the safe hidden mystery above the sky..

 

How beautiful is the Autumn’s litter?

How alluring is the Winter’s glitter?

So many colors in the nature’s canvas,

Adored, adorned..

 

These tiny bundles of joy,

A gift unbiased,

Revealing real happiness,

Flying in a plethora of love..

….Sara

 

P.C : izismile.com

A known stranger

All these days,
There were strangers next to me.

Different people,
Different places.

Yet this time, it was you,
Right by my side.

The passing cities,
The unstoppable laughter.

Never running out of topics,
To speak, to rant on.

A different direction, I imagined,
The illusion not lasting longer.

A different path, I thought,
Failing to know the sole destination.

You seemed so known through out,
Yet when we parted, a stranger, you became.

….Sara

P.C : Pinterest

Flawed by Cecelia Ahern – A book review

‘Flawed’- this book has become a much valued birthday gift this year. Hail my dear friend who gifted me this young adult fiction which proved to be a page turner by the end. Here goes my review for the book..

                        Celestine North, is portrayed to be a perfect seventeen year old girl, a perfect daughter and a perfect girlfriend. She has her future precisely planned out with the love of her life, Art Crevan. Pity the poor girl, unaware of the fact that life gives you twists when you least expect it.

The novel is built on a fictions rule abiding society where one ethical or morally incorrect decision lands you with the title ‘Flawed’. The Guild is the powerhouse which hears the cases and decides whether a person is flawed or not. Once declared Flawed, the person is seared with a ‘F’ on their body.

Celestine supports the guild and abides by it until one wrong act makes her life come crashing down. She gets shunned by her very friends and hate is laid on every path she walks. This happens in a time when the functioning of the Guild is questioned by its own citizens and she falls as a prey to being..becoming.. the poster girl for their campaigns.

How will she manage to escape this trap? Will she ever get back with Art? ,are the questions I leave for you to ponder over. The book ends on a cliffhanger making the readers to uncover the fate of Celestine in the next and the last book, Perfect.

Most Young Adult Fiction novels present ostracism but Flawed takes it to a whole new level. Cecelia Ahern is quite popular for her Romances but this is the first YA of Ahern that I read and I must say, it was different. I would not say that this is the best of dystopian novels, yet it is a good read.

The novel is written in first person present and Ahern does an applaudable job with that. My rating on a scale of 1-5 is 3.5. If you are fond of YA’s and looking for one to read, Flawed will be a good pick. But make sure you read the next part too. None of us like to end up sleepless with suspense (my state right now!).

Your comments on the book and about the review are welcome. Good day, people 🙂

Chiseled

He picked up the scarred stone,

Eyes full of zing,

Examining it with his rough hands,

Imperfections looking perfect.

 

Rubbing the dirt off,

He held out his chisel,

Singing a song along,

The stone, dancing to his rhythm.

 

The language they spoke,

No one else could decipher,

But the mere sound of it,

A treat to listen.

 

He carved curves and waves,

Making us guess a women,

A beautiful lady,

A dream in his heart..

 

He broke the curve a little,

Making it look like a petal,

A blossoming flower,

The beauty of nature..

 

He shaped a more deeper curve,

Making it seem like a wing,

A little butterfly,

Fluttering its wings..

 

Finally, he cut a sharp edge,

So sharp that it might pierce through bare skin,

And the stone turned out to be a heart,

Complete with the curves and a sharp edge to finish,

A cold, stone heart!

….Sara

st

P.C : pinterest

Tiny drops of faith

When the world closes its door on you,
When the sun fails to raise you up,
When the tears stream and won’t stop,
Shut your eyes tight,
Breathe and think faith.

The Sunday morning chicken roast,
Inviting aroma of coffee pot,
The never ending magic of mom’s kitchen,
Take it in and think faith.

The shrill cry of a new born,
The triumph of a toddler’s first steps,
A little kid’s toothless smile ,
Draw it in and think faith.

For every day you lived, good and bad,
For every leap you took, little and big,
For every step you fell, tumbled and toppled,
Pull it in and think faith.

For faith is not a long river,
Flowing into the ocean of life,
It is all those little drops of water,
Which in itself makes the ocean.

….Sara

 

P.C : Pixabay