The Unwelcome Guest

My conscience was under redevelopment
And I had visitors in the new home I built,
They came and go, some stayed for long,
But the unwelcome guest never left.

The unwelcome guest stayed in the bottom cellar,
Which was there in the pit of my stomach,
Isolated it was, as there was no room
To notice it, with the other visitors.

The unwelcome guest was often hungry,
But it had learnt to oppress its hunger,
Because in the dining room in my heart,
There were other guests being fulfilled.

Until one day, there was silence,
Etching onto the corners of my stomach,
The hunger of the unwelcome guest could no longer be suppressed,
It made its way to the dining room.

The seats were empty and the shadows lurked,
My conscience was now a building out of order,
I have learnt to fix what’s broken and I solve equations I get accidently right,
But the unwelcome guest has cast a shadow so dark,
Every light has ushered out,
The chandeliers in my heart don’t sparkle anymore.

There are no visitors willing to stay,
Everything is intact but nothing is right,
But the unwelcome guest remains ghosted,
Until one day.

As the unwelcome guest wants to take over,
And become the owner of the house I’ve grown till now,
Which though is out of order right now,
With the unwelcome guest pulling the reins,
My home will destroy to ruins.

The unwelcome guest can’t be fed anymore – as it has become the feeder,
It is eating at me and every part I call home
And leaving me with my veins ripped off,

It’s waiting for the pain to become so deep
that it’ll become a habit to master over time,
The only thing I feel would be emptiness,
Because pain would be the habit which will become me,
And the only feeling I’ll ever feel, but yet not a feeling.

The unwelcome guest cannot be defeated,
As hatred is what I deserve,
I have tried too hard to be someone I think I was
But now I know I am nothing,
But a puppet in the hands of this guest I did not invite.

The dining room has turned into an empty stage,
The windows are shut and the roof at a endless height,
The dust of the diner’s footsteps are hiding behind faded curtains,
The path is now paved with broken glass

As the unwelcome guest has become my owner,
My soul is surrendered to that invisible face,
Which has been proving me wrong since the day I believed,
That peace was something I could achieve.


Hello everyone! I had written this one a while back however I am posting it now. This poem is a fictional piece of work, with the concept of ‘the unwelcome guest’ being the central motif, that is a concept, idea, object which repeats itself throughout the text and is hence recurring.

The poem begins with the setting of a well- built house, with the unwelcome guest not being prominent due to being kept buried by the owner. However, gradually the factors the owners held on to for not dealing with the unwelcome guest eventually moved away which paved way for the unwelcome guest to take control, rather than the owner having the chance to deal with the unwelcome guest.

The main motive for writing this poem was to display the disturbing effects of the negative feelings inside us, and how keeping it buried does more harm than good.

Yes, it is important to have a perspective to understand our thoughts and emotions and our very being, but it is alright to not have an immediate perspective about everything, and sometimes feeling your negative emotions is the only way to gain needed perspective.


P.S – Am I the only one who is totally obsessed with the ‘evermore‘ album by Taylor Swift? It feels like it was only yesterday when ‘folklore‘ came out (which I am still not done obsessing with) and now we have evermore. If creating two albums in a year especially the year being 2020 is not an achievement then I don’t know what is.
Check them both out on Spotify here!

And here, I end this post. You can contact me here and I will reply as soon as possible!

Thank you for reading!
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@theniharikadiaries

The Business of Broken Worth

Photo

Photo Credits – Film Daily

She sighs,
Her eyes are sunken into dreams she has forgotten to see,
But her face is luminous and her hair shines
With the light she lost within herself.

She drags her feet because her wings are broken,
To that place where her worth is stolen,
Where her tempting appearance and fake smile,
Gives away the dread in her eyes.

She inhales,
The air she is forced to breath,
It suffocates her but sustains her too,
Her evening begins with candle-lights and clandestine rooms,
Where ‘NO’ is a word her throat can never know.

But then the sun rises and it begs,
To conjure some hope as it’s the sun after all,
But even when the sun rises her nightmares do not end,
She is left cold and miserable.
The only make-up you can see on her face now,
Is the dust of broken mirrors.

Her eyes are bleeding
The dreams which were taken away,
Her limbs are too tired to walk any further,
Each day she is losing the light from her eyes,
She was once the queen of fireflies.

And again she is doomed to be dragged into those doors,
To uphold fake smiles and reluctance ignored,
Her fate has imprisoned her with madness unknown,
While her destiny awaits,
To be sold for another night again.


Orginally featured in “The Writers Hub” – a recent initiative presented by LHS MUN and Ankara!

• The Writers Hub gives amateur as well as professional writers, a platform to showcase thier writings to a large and open audience.
You can submit poems, stories, articles, blogs, pieces of any genre free of cost, with no age linit for the writers!
•The writer will get complte credit for thier post.

Click here for details on how to become a part of The Writers Hub community!


Thank you for reading, it is deeply appreciated. My serious inactivity here gives you no reason to comment but feel free to let me know your thoughts on this one and thank you again! 
You can contact me here.

@theniharikadiaries

 

Even The Healthy Are Sick

Coorna

Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

It’s 6:30 in the evening and I am sitting here, in dire lack of inspiration, just trying to write something, anything, even nothing would be satisfying now in these times. It’s terrifying, how an incurable (as of now) virus has shipwrecked every soul breathing. Though I am grateful that all my friends, my family, and every person near and dear to me are blessed and safe, these psychological scars bleed for love and affection, as we self-isolate and stay apart.

Millions of people have been affected by this misfortune, and I deeply hope they heal. However, it is no new statement to say that this virus has affected all physically healthy and blessed as well. We all are emotionally ill, whether you know it or not. I hear them refer to the termed “COVID-19 cases” as “the sick”. But the truth is, that we all are. And the whole world is.

   Every single one in the seven billion of the earth has been affected emotionally.

COVID-19 … It’s in the news, in articles, it’s in every conservation, every small and big talk; if big talk really is a term. I decided to not regularly watch the news, for I found it unnecessary for me to bother me with negativity on a regular basis. I refused to be greatly bothered. I get my updates only through my parents, or if I check them once in a blue moon. But the number of people who have been affected by the virus seems to grow by the day and it has crawled into the city where I live like a silent hurricane and I now check the news more often.

We all are aware of the safety guidelines. But what has affected every single one of us the most is the social-distancing. And whether you’re an introvert, extrovert, ambivert — we all do not like this. The isolation is tough. Times are unpredictable and there is no vision of what lies ahead. It must be remembered that this isolation is crucial and though it is tough, do not give up and do not take the risk.

The virus is not seeking a particular religion, color, sex or ethnicity to attack. It has affected the world as a whole. Hence right now, we all have to stand together as one community, irrespective of our differences. There is a need to stand mentally together.

We cannot refuse to accept that we do feel more negative emotions now. We’re more frustrated than usual if something doesn’t work out as hoped, our routines are fluctuating which affect our energy and interest in working, in spite of it being your passion. We may even project our psychological stress onto our loved ones and get involved in fights, on even the tiniest and insignificant things. We all have been emotionally affected by the virus.

Though COVID-19 is a biological disease related to our physical health, it doesn’t mean our mental well-being is not important. It is as important as our physical well-being. Do not let yourselves shatter from the fear. We are not alone, abandoned or lonely. We all are together. And just because we are physically apart from our loved ones doesn’t mean our hearts are apart. Call them, send them a message, let them know you’re grateful. Talk, not about the virus. Talk so they know that there you are with them and so they forget about the virus’ terrors for some time.

We cannot control negative emotions. They’re gonna be there. They are there. And there’s nothing you can do to make them vanish. But you can always prevent those emotions from controlling you. These scars are going to affect us directly or indirectly, and that is inevitable. The only thing we can do is confront these scars. Confront negative emotions. Because only in that way can we realize the importance of strength, gratefulness, and hope in this battle.

Yes, it is frightening. We are afraid, we all are. And that is completely okay and normal. Breaking the preventive method of isolation just because it is tough, is not worth it and is wrong because social distancing and self-isolation are most effective for the prevention of the virus spreading. But taking care of yourself, not only by washing your hands but by engaging yourself in activities that bring you positive vibes is equally important.

I barely had any knowledge about cooking. I did help around, but I had no major contribution. But during this quarantine I did more, as I learnt more. I finally tried out that chocolate cake recipe I always wanted to! It turned out quite well! Mom helped, though. So right now I’m trying to learn some basic cooking, and I deeply hope to make a proper meal one day without assistance. Music heals me in unimaginable and unexpected ways, so I usually listen to music while doing my homework, as it motivates me to not stop out of boredom.

I read novels like ‘False Impression’ and ‘Everything is F*cked’, and ‘The Merchant of Venice’ is next on the list. I am not able to write as I usually do, but I am trying to do my best to continue and write anything, though it may not be worth reading; and then waiting for the inspiration to strike while I write my best nothing. I have chosen to self-reflect and have resolved to work on myself and become a better and mature thinker.

What I’m saying is soothe your soul with whatever works for you the best and do not confuse physical barriers to be emotional ones. If you’re feeling low or disturbed, you can always talk to your loved ones about it, they’ll understand. We all are under the same cloud right now. And we all can get through this. If you can, stay grateful and strong. It will be alright. Please try not to let fear get the better of you.


Do not let your psychological scars bleed you of hope.


Thank you so much for reading! Stay safe and blessed.

Originally published on Medium through ACorneredGurl. Read here

It’s night.

And the cicada bellows a horror tune,
Into the turbidity of thoughts of the chilled night,
That petrifying screech of intense terror.
And its horror,
Provokes the aeons and alerts their nerves,
With an abandoned pain
Of a long-forgotten tale.
And somewhere the oak leaves rustle,
Perhaps to calm the cicada’s call,
Or to soothe an ear bleeding velvet of woes,
Or to ruffle the rough pages inked with distorted handwritings,
Scratch poetry written loosely,
The pages repeatedly falling down,
As if the God’s way of saying “Nah, don’t write any further”.
Somewhere a broken warrior,
Loses a fight,
In the battlefield of life,
And the cicada is now the sound of vanquished hope,
But the wind is the voice of the Almighty,
Encouraging words of hope beckon this warrior,
To make her realise,
Broken she is,
But destroyed she is not.
The pieces though shattered are a part of her,
If binded well,
The battle ends.
And here I stand amidst this thick haze,
This hazy envelope of the mysterious night,
Foamed with the tales of broken souls,
Valiant, yet short of hope.
Eerie for some, comforting to plenty the night does sound,
But to me it’s sound of the ringing death knell,
As I stand up at the window sill,
And gaze up at the distorted moon,
Purposelessness crawling up my torn skin,
Hopeless eyes of archaic stones,
Shot with the hard-hitting lunar light,
The fire of this plight burns more bright,
My vision blurred,
Eyelashes drooping like showered rooftops,
My heart thuds against my chest,
Heavier than the crashed hopes of my past.
And I then see my destination down,
And feel the desire to taste,
The unfathomable joy of death.
Just one step,
And it all ends.
The final destination,
Of my psychotic pain.

I step ahead and fall,
A feeling I’ve never felt before I feel in my final breaths,
Freedom.
I hope you are happy now,
Do thank me for the boon I’ve bestowed upon you.
I thump down on the concrete ground,
My head hitting this pavement,
Has perhaps overpowered the cicada’s call.
My nerves bursting red in wrath,
I have pooled the pavement with demonic tears,
I feel the freedom through my deadened veins,
You.


Hello guys! So I’ve written this one about my perception of the night and what it symbolizes. The poem is grave, I do agree, and I would honestly love to know in the comment section whether my poems are now getting repetitive concerning themes and if yes, do suggest some topics you would like to read. I am planning to make this blog more interactive.😊

Anyway, this poem is about a person who craves her rightful freedom which has been stolen from her and feels the only way to now be free would be death. The ending of the poem, however, can have many views. In fact, this whole poem can have various perceptions of it. What I intend to believe, is that she wishes to be with someone whom she is not free to, and is so driven by that despair and so disturbed with confusion that she believes that it is impossible for her to be free with the one she wants to be, but wants to be free nevertheless. In the end, her despair overpowers the desire for the initially wanted freedom and she only wants to be free of the gloom which has sadly consumed her life, causing her to commit suicide.

Basically, the message I truly intend to convey is sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is let them be free. Give them their time and space. The freedom of choice and belief. Let them be them and love them for it. Of course, misuse of freedom is extremely wrong, but everyone deserves their rightful freedom to not make them feel like a prisoner of birth. Do share your views and perceptions on this one.


Also read: Before You End Your Life – Writing My Heart Out

And, the writing style of writing ‘You’, in the end was learnt by me through Miss Gabriela M.’s works, who is a US university professor and author of three novels and an exceptional poet.

Also, my friend has too started a blog and I was hoping you guys could take out some time to check it out here.

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@theniharikadiaries 🙂

Dust

Your ample words, and the horrifying motives hidden vaguely behind them,
Act like a sieve for my thoughts and emotions,
My every bit of sanity you’re extracting from my brain,
You are making me lose control as I cry out loud to the forlorn universe in which I’m dying.

My ripped soul’s translucent tears,
Evaporating into the empty voids,
Precipitate the hazy atmospheres of my brains,
And it rains.
It pours heavily.
Their stone-hearted cold criticism floods through my conscience with rage,
With every puddle of anguish within absorbing my mind’s peace.

Yes, I’m different.
My soul’s scarred with a million miserable cuts,
Blood streaming out from these suicidal scars,
Red paintings on my parched skin,
And oh! Such an immense bittersweet relief I perceive,
From these habitual portrayals of huge, red masterpieces,
Painted painfully by my blue-green veins.
The veins which bind me to reality,
But I hate this reality,
because it has you.

Scrutinizing every deed of mine,
So unfairly you treat me and drown me in despair,
Hence today I shall free myself of this reality I’m enforced to believe are of my own choices,

You thrived on the thought that you could control me,
Use me,
Betray me,
Torture me.

But now I will finally be free,
For I shall expose the deadened veins of my neck to fresh open air,
Which I breathed in, and urged me to swallow, and not let out,
The blood I produced in every breath taken in this atrocious atmosphere,
But I shan’t allow myself these bloody lumps of guilt to taste anymore,
I will finally now bleed to my death and your profound joy and rest in your grim grave with pleasure.

My freezing body is collapsed in front of your feet,
I’m making you witness eternal peace,
You walked over my identity, my personality, my feelings and mercilessly hurt me,
You unreasonably desired to gain control over me.

So finally now my mortal body is surrendered to you,
I am dead.
Finally devoid.
It’s so easy

So walk over me,
“Bless me” with your chapped feet,
Stamp on my soulless hollow lungs and shoulders,
And make me bleed my heart out.
Puncture my limbs and eyes out of their places,
Tear my scars and bruises apart,
Wound me deeper,
Snap my neck and torment me further.
Grasp your evil dagger and gleefully into my soul thrust.
Fulfill your lust,
Finish me, demolish me, and crumble me to dust.


This poem is to emphasize on how intense a person’s feelings can get on being criticised on every single thing. The people judging them for everything they lack do not realise that they’re hurting them.

It’s important that people realise that nobody can be perfect or be exactly matching the expectations of perfection, and it is not even required to be perfect. We all are unique and have the right to have our own beliefs and the right to choose for ourselves.

We all have a spark inside us, a reason to stay alive and survive. Embrace yourselves. Nobody can do a better version of you than you yourself. You are perfect in your imperfections. Thrive in your inner beauty.

To all those people battling and struggling in all sorts of wars in their lives, you unknowingly inspire millions of hearts and give them hope and courage. So have courage, have hope, and know you’re the best💞

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The Branched Out Souls – Choked to Death

I request every reader to please take some of their time and fully read and share this article. I’ve written this poem in protest against the proposed cutting of nearly 3,000 full-grown trees in Aarey Forest for the construction of a Metro Car Shed.

I was at the innocent age of five,
Deluded in fairylands with faint knowledge of reality,
When I sowed my first seed,
And hoped for it to branch out and bask under nature’s glory.

I used to hydrate the sapling and took care as if my child,
I conversed with it as I believed it possessed a soul,
That soul which provided me a comfort flawless,
I wish I had known that that too I would have to let go.
How unaware was I of the world’s cruelty!

And decades pass by,
My little sapling has matured and is merry with his fellow mates,
And now that I see, through my home’s gallery,
This impeccable token of natural beauty.

I feel as if this terrain is my paradise, my heaven,
With the tall, girded trees as their ruling Gods,
The most generous, loyal and kindest kings to have been in existence,
As nature is the mortal form of God,
And trees, God’s emblem. We’re dependent on them.

And now I’ve grown up further,
As times summon me to achieve my deep desired goals in life.
I feel the paradise and its peace in my lungs in every breath,
But I now reside from my terrain far away.

And years pass by again,
And inevitable habit of time to pass by,
I have blackheads and I’m not much beautiful,
But I’ve fulfilled my desires,
I expect nothing anymore,
My life is now nothing more than mere sweet memories, pure as honey.

And now my heart is weighed down by a mighty regret,
A paperweight on the beautiful life I’ve lead,
And I desire of this paperweight to be free,
I must be on my way and find solace,
And go back in life’s race,
As I travel down those country lanes,
To see my good old tree.

My heart is racing wild and roaring with ecstacy,
As I dive into my profound memories of the apple tree,
The cool shade during my school days,
The homely and tame wind stirring up the atmosphere,
With its heavenly boon comforting every creature.

I hault my vehicle just before the lane,
I’ve decided to walk for I want to slowly observe to suffice my heart,
But everything has changed, nothing’s like before,
Looks like modernization’s hand has touched my neighborhood as well.

But modernization has an unknown paranoia along with other bright outcomes,
And the paranoia which has flooded my neighborhood,
Is the result of massacred trees.

My body has been electrocuted,
As my veins have gone numb as they refuse to bear this shock,
Not only has my most loved branched out soul died,
But my whole leafy neighborhood has been destroyed.

My eyes are wide open and I see no trace of the heaven I hoped,
But only a gigantic posh mall, a cinema hall, and other guilty facilities,
Guilty of the death of the souls, on whose provisions everyone has thrived,
This civilization created is a violation of nature.
A violation of God.

The source for paper, the source of your life,
Every fruit you’ve bitten, every ingested medicine,
Their source is being cut down.
Their minds crippled with paranoia, driven with utmost craze,
The world will fade into a foggy haze.

The branched out souls are shouting at top of their voice,
But we can’t hear their dying cry,
As in our ears, the call of nature
Is completely void.

But we still have time,
To hope for a better world and save our earth,
Let’s not have innocent blood on our hands,
Let’s save these vital trees,
Rather than just cutting them down with ease.

Let’s not destroy the source of life,
Else later we’ll pay the price,
Let’s not unjust evil towards our creators become our vice,
Let’s not write our own demise.


The merciless killing of innocent trees will only lead to inevitable environmental hazards.

Follow:

Instagram: #saveaarey, #saveaareyforest, #letmumbaibreath, AareyConservationGroup

Facebook: AareyConservationGroup

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