Thoughts to Words

The M.O.R.N.I.N.G in the morning stands for? You find out. Motivational quotes  are mostly sources of instant gratification when you consume it,  it is the summertime rain in your mind, pacifying you, you can dance to its beat and retweet it. Summer, being strong-headed, won't be lenient with heat, you'll sweat, sweat like a human and not a pig, a much-needed break,  you'll NEED, not WANT but NEED. The break is an experiment, the scope for further research you get after the break, is yours rightfully, even assessing the sunlight  without a recess, is up to you. Scientists may draw inspiration  from libraries and laboratories, but they have a unique dream  walking the talk in their revolutionary patents. ©songbriti

Socializing is a component that is a partially gold and partially silver member if not a platinum member in an ambivert's circle. As much as I enjoy entertaining my family and friends with politically incorrect jokes, I also love talking to myself, loud and clear in my room.  I have a soft corner for books. Last Christmas, I was gifted an e-book device (on my demand of course). The only child is pampered for the better sometimes, isn't she Santa? There are a list of books queued in a disciplined way on my Kindle's shelf to unveil their voices to me and I am delighted to give them all the attention I can during this free time. The question of making peace with self-isolation is not applicable to me because I am my best company and solitude is more than invited. How difficult is it anyway to stay indoors and do what you haven't had the time to do in a while? First off, family time specially with my furry brother is saving coins of happiness because none of us can practic...

Poetry is the mountain  where I meditate  in the crest  of calmness. Poetry is the rope I grip with hope when fierce tornadoes gobble up the sunshine and there is existential crisis. Poetry is the moonlight arranging a romantic ambience for all my solo dinner dates. Poetry is the universal donor donating a reason  to quarantine myself when a pandemic  is simmering in the air. Poetry is the history left in me, poetry is the reflection of my aspirations, poetry is the backbone of my soul. ©songbriti

Ruminate in mindfulness,  be a transient tourist for the thought, with an eagle's eye see what others can't,  shoot close-up shots, that photographic memory has an inbuilt high definition, but let the imageries not push buttons, operate with the mind of a scientist, and the heart of a poet, in the amphitheatre of a beautiful day, the trials and errors of the performance and the findings are yours, a show was rolling before you knew it and will continue to after your blood and bones  manure the land, while the stage is beneath your toes, compose tunes at this harvest, feathers on your cap will be added, albeit take them not to the future, the orchard is but a walking example, of fruits growing when they have to. ©songbriti

Barefoot these trail of ants, they got their backs, boarding a local train, in a metropolitan, hoarding sweat. Hardwork- an organ overworked, Passion- the recent Amazon forest, the esophageal bridge distributing 'provisional permits' to drive from 9 to 5, also sometimes overtime, speeding at zero dreams per hour. A ventilating cigarette purifies sleep in the 1BHK, curtained by a nest of necessities, though the wingless cannot fly, they can climb the highest high. The backpacks of duties are heavier than weighed, the horizon is not going anywhere, when the curtains are raised, they'll get there and beyond. ©songbriti

I could be the emergency candle when flickering dangers dodge you, keep me in a jar, that contained lemon marmalade, you love oranges I know, life is fond of sour lemons instead, culinary arts is so much more than Michelin stars, it hardly is a fair-weather place but in any season on Earth and phase of the Moon,  a firefly pixie is your friend, delve into your spiritual growth, a well-wisher won't push you  into the well when you take refuge, in the dense fog,  tons of silver linings we can craft, an ethereal friend-ship sails and sails, in due course blessed with bountiful harvests. ©songbriti

I can't bring the moon for you, but I can be your northern star, whenever you feel lost, I promise to stand by you, and light the way, you decide to walk on. ©songbriti

I braced myself, put on the speed, to run past time's rage. Tending to wounds of yesteryears, and caressing the wilted skin on your forehead. Through the woods humming a lullaby from your childhood, syncing its tunes to a classic ballet of flowers and leaves. I plant a kiss of life on your heart as the sun sets in. All fears dismantled by the fierce storm, who gave up on rage to rekindle a zephyr of smiles yearning to make you feel alive. ©songbriti