A Birthday Gift

A Birthday Gift

By Joyasmita Ghosh

It is not the day that seems special,
But the people who make it so.
For it is just another day;
The same sun, the same sky
And the same universe that guides the pass.
But you speak of it as a day of remembrance
And insist it be celebrated.

But is a day worth celebrating Life?
And given you, given your love,
Celebration and gratitude are an enormity.
Life and Death are a game of scores;
Each second that brings us closer adds on to Life
And each moment that pulls us apart add on to Death.
You ask for my choice of gift,
But I already have you.
What could be more dear, than a heart which beats in a rhythm similar?
A soul that bows in prayer for Eternal togetherness,
And happiness that unleashes at the smile that brings the dawn to your day.

You urge, and I finally ask you for a gift
And you instinctively say yes.
Don’t, for this may hurt,
promising a thing prior knowing its price.
And I go on to tell you:
If ever a lonely soul you stumble upon,
A shoreless sailor, with all hope gone,
Promise me you’ll hold her hand
And be the loveliest roses on her barren land.
For a heart that is dilapidated,
Life happens not in worldly dreams,
But in a feather-touch that brings joy untold
And shuts out one’s inner screams.

Thus begins the celebration of the heartbeat, knowing that
Gone is the chasm of bitterness;
A life awaits anew.
I say this, for I have once been a shoreless sailor.
Give you such a life, know that our love lives then
As the Heavens doth forever.

Tis my birthday today, and you can’t refuse me.
All I ask for someone, just like me, is a reason to celebrate;
Not just a day, but a life;
A life that gives glories, a life that gives pain,
But above all, a life that brings you home
And prepares you to set sail again.
<strong>Joyasmita Ghosh</strong>
Joyasmita Ghosh

Joyasmita is from West Bengal, India.
Current job: pursuing Graduation course in Mathematics.

Hobbies: Sleeping, watching cartoons, sky-gazing and muser. A hardcore bibliophile and a music lover.
Instagram handle: read_andrelate
Focus for writing: A break from everything boring.

(This post contains affiliate links. See my disclosure about affiliate links here.)

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Poetry by Noor

Poetry by Noor

My Muse, My Dearest Friend

By Noor Alzaghal

Fear, oh fear

Fear of the paper they say
Fear of a blank page

Yet fear is present
But the pale sheet isn't

Oh mother, I've got a fear so fatal
I cannot rid of it in the rivers
Oh father, I've got a fear so lethal
I cannot rid of it in the skies
Oh, this fear
It's got its claws clasped into my skin
Penetrated deep enough to reach my soul

My soul, my soul, my soul!
Tell me of your hiding place
Let me in on that secret space
Is it close by or up so high?
Tell me it's in space
Right outside the milky way
Tell me it's chill and nice
Tell me it rains and hails
Tell me joy is there
Tell me a lie

Cloistered soul,
I know you long to be set free
I know you wish to breathe
But breathing is condemned a sin
A sin so horrific
I cannot behold its magnitude

No eye must see you
Not even a tiny glimpse
For walls keep you safe
Even during a hurricane

Oh pure soul,
I'll feed you for sure
I'll read you letters
And I'll mold them into sounds
Smooth as a cat's fur

They'll serve as a catalyst
To your deepest desires
They'll beg you to yell
They'll beg you to scream
They'll beg for their freedom
With fisted balms and glaring eyes

Oh mother, let me spell it all
Oh father, let me cry it out
Oh, oh, oh, let me let me let me live

My fear's source is them
They cannot know the truth
They cannot know it all
They must not know me
Else I might become published
Exposed
In between their balms
Right beneath their fingertips
Naked
In front of their eyes
In front of their glaring soul
In front of them

My Muse, My dearest friend,
When I die,
Look through my notebooks
Set my words free
Give them wings
And let them fly
But for now
I'll howl into the night sky
Hoping Ginsberg replies

My Morning Play

By Noor Alzaghal

Subdued lighting melts through the curtains
Marking dawn
As the hushed blue fills up my four walls
Birds chirp their way up to the highest sky
Then,
Tranquil silence fills the empty pockets of the day
And soon my dear
Soon my Eyelids will become the main actors of this beautiful play.
A Romeo and a Juliette aching to reunite.
<strong>Noor Alzaghal</strong>
Noor Alzaghal

Noor Alzaghal is a 19-years-old Palestinian young woman with a burning passion for arts of all sorts. She is mainly a writer of poetry and fiction, but she also likes to dip her fingers into some photography and drama from time to time. Although unpublished, she is in the process of writing a novel as well as publishing a collection of poems hopefully soon. At the moment, she is a full time English Language and Literature student at An-Najah National University, and she is the founder of Englitopia; A Creative Writing and Drama Group , which aims to provide a safe space for students to find and express themselves through art.

You can find her on Facebook and Instagram where she shares most of her work. Instagram: @noor_poetry    
Facebook Page: @Noor.Flicker  ( https://fb.me/Noor.Flicker )

(This post contains affiliate links. See my disclosure about affiliate links here.)

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Broken Pieces

By Natalia Imran

You're just a little broken
But darling, aren't we all?
You might be just so tired
But darling, aren't we all?

Tired of living the life
Of some human you're not
Thinking of what might come
The second this all stops

You're just a little broken
But darling, aren't we all?
You might just be so tired
But darling, aren't we all?

Worried of what people may think
When they find out the things
That you hide away every night
Under your bed, in that small box

You're just a little broken
But darling, aren't we all?
You might be just so tired
But darling, aren't we all?

Scared of the backstabs
That will come with the truth
Of your life
Which concerns no one but you

You're just a little broken
But darling, aren't we all?
You might be just so tired
But darling, aren't we all?

This part that's broken of you
This part is what shines the most
This part that's broken of you
That's how the light gets in

You're just a little broken
But darling, aren't we all?
You might be just so tired
But darling, aren't we all?
<strong>Natalia Imran</strong>
Natalia Imran

I am Natalia Imran from Pakistan. My hobbies include writing poetry and articles. I also like to paint and draw sometimes or make dies. I am a student.

The focus of my writing is to deliver positivity, hope and clarity through my poetry. It is not just a hobby; it’s a passion. I take my writing seriously and wish to have a book published one day. 

Instagram account: @absolute_felicity
Twitter account: @Natalia_Imran

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Smile by Lamya

Smile by Lamya

Smile, a poem by Lamya Rassiwala

When the glowing ambers of the day melt into darkness,
And the quietness of the eve casts a spell on my heart.

When your presence is all that I need, but your absence is all that I have.

I look up to the sky and smile and you always smile back.

When I collapse under the weight of the day,
And my grief threatens to overshadow my spirit.

When loneliness embraces me the way you used to,
And nothing else matters accept a kind word from you.

I look up to the sky and smile and you always smile back.

My surprised eyes cry in the middle of the day.
Unaware that my heart has been hurting all day.

When a shadow falls on your picture on the wall,
And darkens the tattered corners of my soul.

I look up to the sky and smile and you always smile back.

When I get tired of pretending
That all is fine.
And get exhausted from fighting the pain inside.
When the fragile pieces of my heart,
Desperately search for a new start.
I look up to the sky and smile and you always smile back.

Perhaps this is how we go on.
You and I from now on,
Day after day, night after night,
I keep looking up and you keep smiling back.

Cause nor the night or the sky
Nor destiny or time,
Can stop your smile from meeting mine.
<strong>Lamya "Minaaz" Rassiwala</strong>
Lamya “Minaaz” Rassiwala

Lamya Rassiwala is from Mumbai, in India. She has been a content writer and editor for the last 15 years, but her first love has always been poetry. She writes in English, Hindi and Urdu. Her other most cherished interest is her love for travel, and she wishes to start a dedicated blog for it.

Her favourite thing to do is perform at various spoken poetry events in the city. You can follow her on Instagram:  @lamyaminaaz where she posts poetry and interesting travel pictures.

(This post contains affiliate links. See my disclosure about affiliate links here.)

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