rain at dusk @rainatdusk - Tumblr Blog

hello to all that have come across this blog, on purpose or by accident.

before starting to post the words that i oh-so-merely constructed into sentences, stanzas or lyrics, i wanted to let it be known that the setting up of this accounts has been long overdue.

not one, not two, it took me three whole years of contemplation to conclude that this account will be the place i will put out all the products of my thoughts. not because i have to, but because i want to. because my teenage girl brain with the heart of an old grandmother wants to.

i want to post up all the thoughts that run through my head and pierce through my heart at times when i see the rain fall or feel the dusk hover. those same thoughts that linger in my head, not permitting me to fall asleep at night, but disappearing ever so conveniently as soon as the sunlight hits the sand.

am i to blame myself because i deem these thoughts no less than a stranger each time they come flooding back? i don't think so.

so to keep a track of my emotions and feelings, i volunteered this platform as tribute. although with the feeling of guilt somewhat dawning upon me, i will say: it is what it is.

so bear with this blog for as soon as it lasts. criticism and compliments are both heartily welcomed.

#poetry #poem #writing #stories #writeup #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #creative writing

stairs

the universe is the biggest comedian of them all. in it’s grand play of people, it’s easy to be oblivious of when you become it’s puppet.

one day you’re a small boy with a kid’s heart, and the next you’re pinocchio- with your legs tied to a rock, left to drown in the ocean.

the warmth you felt could have been a mirage, or perhaps the fire seemed brighter from a distance.

but it’s peripheral, is it not? because the ocean’s blue would never unbind the knot.

maybe you could have been blameless, inconsolable, or ingenuous for wearing your heart on your sleeve, for the world to see.

or maybe you could have been too in love or just too young.

but that does not liberate you from the universe’s play. because after all, it is a comedian. a cruel cruel one, at that.

hurt

hurt is a funny emotion, if i may.

putting aside it’s complexity of not killing a man all at once, but rather spreading agonisingly slow like venom;

i personally find it quite humorous that it will not, cannot, take someone down right away.

it must always hurt more than once, that’s the unwritten rule.

it might hurt twice like a knife stab- initially during the jab, and next when u pull the knife out.

it might hurt thrice like a fracture- once at the scene of the accident, twice during the surgery, and last during physiotherapy.

it might hurt four times like having a child- first during labour, then watching them grow up, later having them move out, and ultimately when they lose you for good.

or it might even hurt a lifetime, like when my mother called me selfish.

it might hurt so much that suddenly, i knew more about the oceans than scientists ever could- for i felt them well up in my eyes, threatening to fall.

it might hurt so much that despite knowing it was merely a silly argument, and that she could not have meant it, i dared not to meet her eyes for the rest of the week.

it might hurt so much that every single time i find myself even remotely putting my ease of mind before others’, i cannot face myself in the mirror.

it’s funny how hurt can do so much to rationality. it’s funny how hurt can do so much.

it’s funny how it can hurt.

love you?

i’ve heard many a times about how loving someone you know will never love you back is a ridiculous mistake. but i am an arrogant teenager who’s only learnt lessons of life from their own doings.

so i’ve allowed myself to get stabbed in the gut one too many times: the blunt pain of sitting in the back while they’re all the way in the first row; of trying to match their eyes just to find them already looking at someone else; of yearning to see them smile despite knowing i would never cause it.

but regardless of the fact that my blood stains on the knife now glisten in the sunlight, i know the handle of the knife possesses their fingerprints. that is all i crave for, at present.

and i don’t reckon i need to have them to know that.

arms

in a world filled with unsolicited advices at every corner, it is left to the unknown how not a single soul warned a fear filled girl, who fell in love, about the changes that could be.

no one prompted her of how a love as pure as a dove could be shelved as a lowly affair. no one warned her that the fairytale she lived in during daytime, would haunt her as an overturned nightmare.

she didn't know things could change. she didn't know until the mirror in her balcony that welcomed the reflection of a bright rainbow, also bore witness to her glossy eyes. she didn't know until she saw the arms that she used to lay on became riffles that began to prick her on an insignificant winter night.

#poem #poetry #writeup #creative writing #writers and poets #short poem #original poem #dead poets society #short poetry #poets on tumblr #poets corner #the tortured poets department #short story #writers on tumblr #poem writing #poems and poetry #poems on tumblr #writing #writerscommunity

new hue

all her life, when her untold feelings hovered upon her at dusk, she could always easily wrap them into a packet of words and put them aside.

but on an overly seamless night in august, when she could no longer shrink her feelings onto a paper, her quill pointed it's feather to a new foreign emotion that she's grown acquainted with.

an emotion emanated from dew before a drizzle and the subtle shine of the moon. a new alien feeling that she had only read about in books, stories and poems.

"whose poems?" was a substantial question to ask, because they most certainly weren't hers. she couldn't even name the sensation.

hence, to perhaps seek solutions to her predicament, she had resolved to put her foot down, just as she did her pen, and took a step towards him. that was all she had to do to determine the name of the alien emotion- love.

#poem #poetry #writeup #creative writing #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #poets corner #writing #poets on tumblr #writerscommunity #poem writing #original poem #short story #short poem #short poetry #dead poets society #writer stuff #writing block

the eight deadly sin

the bible has never assured me enough. but surprisingly not because of issues an average man would point fingers at.

but because of how love is not considered a sin, but rather is often veiled under the list of virtues in interpretations.

it often baffles me, the way it's overlooked how the seven sins: pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony and sloth, are not deadlier than love.

never a moment in history was recorded, in which love caused any less dismay than the deadly sins.

it's much like an unsought quicksand. unpredictable, and almost impossible to realise when you start to sink into the sand. and furthermore impossible to break out from it.

and even once you attain the impossible, it takes an inexcusably prolonged amount of time to brush off the sand.

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love or fear?

it's a disease to stay up until late at night, to shun away my heavy eye lids begging for freedom at the brink of sleep. just so that i don't stumble upon you in my dreams.

but what use is being awake, if all i can feel is my entire being burning down into ashes, craving to be held by you so desperately?

the horror of "the end" might pierce through my heart until it's no longer of use. but what's the way out, if i would still want to give that useless heart to you?

if i'm petrified of our last chapter, but would still breathe my last breath to read it, what is more remarkable- my love, or my fear?

#poem #poetry #writeup #creative writing #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #poets corner #writing #poets on tumblr #writerscommunity

the red thread of fate

the red thread of fate, or the string of destiny, is said to be an imaginary red cord around the fingers of those that are destined for each other. those that are each other's truest love.

but when an imaginary thread translates to fiction, and "truest love" transcends to lingering feelings, would the thread come undone? or would it have never existed in the first place?

when the thread ascertaining the love two people have for each other is illusionary, then how definitive would the love itself be?

certainly not definitive enough to last. but then, then what?

#poem #poetry #writeup #creative writing #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #writing #poets on tumblr #poets corner #writerscommunity

lilac

lilacs symbolise first love. the first love that is indelible, important and illuminating. but it's not every day that it's reciprocated. and that is unfortunate.

but isn't it more despairing when that first love is in love with some other girl? and when she's no less than perfect?

what more could a girl do than to slowly just accept it? than to just realise that he'll have her heart and someone else will have his. than to accept that it's okay. and if it isn't yet, it will be soon.

#poem #poetry #writeup #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing #writers and poets #poets corner #writerscommunity

fault in their stars

what is a man ought to do when a silly little girl falls in love with him like a bolt out of the blue? and what is he to do when he doesn't love her back? is it really such a blunder that he feels differently than her?

and what is a woman ought to do when she's hopelessly enamored with a man who makes her breath hitch with every movement he makes? what is she expected to do when she realises that the emotions in their bond are so cruelly lopsided? is she supposed to not love him anymore even when he effortlessly keeps her up every night? is it really such a blunder that she feels so strongly for him?

#creative writing #writers and poets #writeup #poem #poetry #writers on tumblr

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