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#Day64 Let me become the stardust my plain soul contains, the glittery gold which is a bonsai to those broken souls. But, I sit there wondering and wandering in a cosmos of my own thoughts which are filled with anguish and pain, thinking how can a disintegrated piece of art can heal the broken ones. Maybe, a disintegrated mess can heal brokenness, shaping it into a masterpiece again; piece by piece, joining a broken piece of art, with its disintegrated parts, to create something more than just beautiful- love. //Caption Let me weave words out of my plain pain and disintegrate those words into letters that engrave my heart forever as an account of my never-ending bliss, a memoir of my past-

#Day64 Let me become the stardust my plain soul contains, the glittery gold which is a bonsai to those broken souls. But, I sit there wondering and wandering in a cosmos of my own thoughts which are filled with anguish and pain, thinking how can a disintegrated piece of art can heal the broken ones. Maybe, a disintegrated mess can heal brokenness, shaping it into a masterpiece again; piece by piece, joining a broken piece of art, with its disintegrated parts, to create something more than just beautiful- love. //Caption Let me weave words out of my plain pain and disintegrate those words into letters that engrave my heart forever as an account of my never-ending bliss, a memoir of my past-

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The pitchy darkness of mauve sky blinds me with a wish to live. I'm consumed with darkness that bliss casts upon my being. //Caption The pitchy darkness of mauve sky blinds me with a wish to live. I'm consumed with darkness that bliss casts upon my being. There's an artist,

The pitchy darkness of mauve sky blinds me with a wish to live. I'm consumed with darkness that bliss casts upon my being. //Caption The pitchy darkness of mauve sky blinds me with a wish to live. I'm consumed with darkness that bliss casts upon my being. There's an artist,

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You arrived in my life like the elusive aroma of petrichor, for you lived only until the showers of love allowed you to. After that, you were gone like those clouds that roar, but do not rain. Welcoming Day 2 of #YoSimWriMo or the YourQuote Simile Writing Month i.e. October. Today, let's talk about arrival. Pause and think of the most unconventional yet relatable comparison you can think of. Make your readers say wow. #arrivelike #simile #zumiwrites #zumisheth #YourQuoteAndMine Collaborating with YourQuote Baba

You arrived in my life like the elusive aroma of petrichor, for you lived only until the showers of love allowed you to. After that, you were gone like those clouds that roar, but do not rain. Welcoming Day 2 of #YoSimWriMo or the YourQuote Simile Writing Month i.e. October. Today, let's talk about arrival. Pause and think of the most unconventional yet relatable comparison you can think of. Make your readers say wow. #arrivelike #simile #zumiwrites #zumisheth #YourQuoteAndMine Collaborating with YourQuote Baba

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You arrived in my life like an avid reader. You read me, piece by piece, letter by letter, deciphering me like a piece of art, unraveling those secrets which I kept hidden behind the curves of my letters. Every part of me was a story, a poem lying in profound silence. You became the historian, the one who deciphers the cryptic meanings laying behind those simple words. No one knew the pinch of glitter which was hidden behind my plain simplicity. My life was never the same. How could it be? You started writing me like a poet, filling in between the gaps and crevices which I had left broken. You filled me with your golden glitter, like a bonsai and my brokenness shines now, just like my life. Welcoming Day 2 of #YoSimWriMo or the YourQuote Simile Writing Month i.e. October. Today, let's talk about arrival. Pause and think of the most unconventional yet relatable comparison you can think of. Make your readers say wow. #arrivelike #simile #zumiwrites #zumisheth #YourQuoteAndMine Collaborating with YourQuote Baba

You arrived in my life like an avid reader. You read me, piece by piece, letter by letter, deciphering me like a piece of art, unraveling those secrets which I kept hidden behind the curves of my letters. Every part of me was a story, a poem lying in profound silence. You became the historian, the one who deciphers the cryptic meanings laying behind those simple words. No one knew the pinch of glitter which was hidden behind my plain simplicity. My life was never the same. How could it be? You started writing me like a poet, filling in between the gaps and crevices which I had left broken. You filled me with your golden glitter, like a bonsai and my brokenness shines now, just like my life. Welcoming Day 2 of #YoSimWriMo or the YourQuote Simile Writing Month i.e. October. Today, let's talk about arrival. Pause and think of the most unconventional yet relatable comparison you can think of. Make your readers say wow. #arrivelike #simile #zumiwrites #zumisheth #YourQuoteAndMine Collaborating with YourQuote Baba

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#Day63 Memories from the past flood my mind at night, I don't seem to decipher what they remind at night. Those memories are a fire to my already ashen soul, They unravel the scars I seem to hide and bind at night. The moon shines bright and the stars smile ironically, I let all my sorrows, pain, and anguish align at night. I let the ink of my tears flow on the poignant pages, As memories are written as poems- blind at night. The moonflower blooms blissfully, shading the leaves, And again, I let my soul get nastily maligned at night. My heart asks me again, why are you ashamed, Zumi? I reply that my undefined soul lays resigned at night. The Day 63 poem for #100poemsfor100days challenge. ... #ghazal #cinemagraph #zumiwrites #zumisheth #night #yqbaba #ghazals_by_zumi ... 63/100

#Day63 Memories from the past flood my mind at night, I don't seem to decipher what they remind at night. Those memories are a fire to my already ashen soul, They unravel the scars I seem to hide and bind at night. The moon shines bright and the stars smile ironically, I let all my sorrows, pain, and anguish align at night. I let the ink of my tears flow on the poignant pages, As memories are written as poems- blind at night. The moonflower blooms blissfully, shading the leaves, And again, I let my soul get nastily maligned at night. My heart asks me again, why are you ashamed, Zumi? I reply that my undefined soul lays resigned at night. The Day 63 poem for #100poemsfor100days challenge. ... #ghazal #cinemagraph #zumiwrites #zumisheth #night #yqbaba #ghazals_by_zumi ... 63/100

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I would love to become a free verse, Free of all the constraints of syllables, iambic pentameters, rhyming schemes, rhythms, meters, repetitions, length. I would like to sway like a sunflower, on my own rhythm and length, defining rhyme with a touch of redefining. I would write a haiku out of a sestina, and a Shakespearean sonnet out of a Triveni. I would write Qaafiyaa and Radeef out of a strangled, distorted Ghazal, I would form metaphors of lovely hate and similes as silent as a winter moon. I would take a sip of my own poetry, and fill up my soul with freedom. I would write a poem out of myself, and eons of free verses which would sway again and again and again. I would become free of constraints, and I would bind people in constraints with the wonders that my freeness would cast upon them. #cinemagraph #paidstory #freeverse #zumiwrites #zumisheth #yqbaba #poetry #poemsbyzumi ... 3/18

I would love to become a free verse, Free of all the constraints of syllables, iambic pentameters, rhyming schemes, rhythms, meters, repetitions, length. I would like to sway like a sunflower, on my own rhythm and length, defining rhyme with a touch of redefining. I would write a haiku out of a sestina, and a Shakespearean sonnet out of a Triveni. I would write Qaafiyaa and Radeef out of a strangled, distorted Ghazal, I would form metaphors of lovely hate and similes as silent as a winter moon. I would take a sip of my own poetry, and fill up my soul with freedom. I would write a poem out of myself, and eons of free verses which would sway again and again and again. I would become free of constraints, and I would bind people in constraints with the wonders that my freeness would cast upon them. #cinemagraph #paidstory #freeverse #zumiwrites #zumisheth #yqbaba #poetry #poemsbyzumi ... 3/18

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A masterpiece isn't made by words. It's made block by block, piece by piece, word by word, with emotions. Why not become a masterpiece, watered with love and compassion, which remains unsaid, obscured? Why not unravel the cryptic love which is the reason our hearts beat, the one for oneself. One of my classic rants. 😂 #cinemagraph #poetry #masterpiece #yqbaba #inspiration #musings #zumiwrites #zumisheth

A masterpiece isn't made by words. It's made block by block, piece by piece, word by word, with emotions. Why not become a masterpiece, watered with love and compassion, which remains unsaid, obscured? Why not unravel the cryptic love which is the reason our hearts beat, the one for oneself. One of my classic rants. 😂 #cinemagraph #poetry #masterpiece #yqbaba #inspiration #musings #zumiwrites #zumisheth

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Sometimes, I want to become a poem residing in the pages of someone's diary. But then, it occurs in my mind, suddenly, like a winter's rain. I feel why to become a poem living in oblivion where words fade away with time, on the pages of someone else's diary. Why not become a poem lying on the pages of my own diary, the one which writes my life like fate? It is said that sometimes, poets write poems, and the other times, poems write poets. I want to become someone who writes her poems so that they can write her in a better way, not as a masterpiece, but as a random scribble which outshines other masterpieces. Let me know what do you feel about this. ❤ #cinemagraph #paidstory #yqbaba #poetry #zumiwrites #zumisheth #musingsbyzumi ... 2/18

Sometimes, I want to become a poem residing in the pages of someone's diary. But then, it occurs in my mind, suddenly, like a winter's rain. I feel why to become a poem living in oblivion where words fade away with time, on the pages of someone else's diary. Why not become a poem lying on the pages of my own diary, the one which writes my life like fate? It is said that sometimes, poets write poems, and the other times, poems write poets. I want to become someone who writes her poems so that they can write her in a better way, not as a masterpiece, but as a random scribble which outshines other masterpieces. Let me know what do you feel about this. ❤ #cinemagraph #paidstory #yqbaba #poetry #zumiwrites #zumisheth #musingsbyzumi ... 2/18

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I let everyone get lost in their miseries to find the beginnings when I myself am trying to find that lost ending which lies somewhere in between broken promises and torn pages, fallen tears and silent words. I'm lost in a maze to find an ending of my reveries, but I fail. I can't. Maybe, don't really deserve a beginning to find my ending or an ending to find my beginning. Welcome to the last day of #YoPoDiMo or the YourQuote Poetry Diversity Month i.e. September. Tonight, write a poem that is a free verse or a haiku about ending. #poemaboutendings #poemtime #zumiwrites #zumisheth #YourQuoteAndMine Collaborating with YourQuote Baba

I let everyone get lost in their miseries to find the beginnings when I myself am trying to find that lost ending which lies somewhere in between broken promises and torn pages, fallen tears and silent words. I'm lost in a maze to find an ending of my reveries, but I fail. I can't. Maybe, don't really deserve a beginning to find my ending or an ending to find my beginning. Welcome to the last day of #YoPoDiMo or the YourQuote Poetry Diversity Month i.e. September. Tonight, write a poem that is a free verse or a haiku about ending. #poemaboutendings #poemtime #zumiwrites #zumisheth #YourQuoteAndMine Collaborating with YourQuote Baba

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What would life tell you if it could speak? The fact that it's waiting for death. Just like ocean and sky- they're two opposite souls, divided and united by the horizon called love. What would happen if we know that life and death are lost lovers who meet when life dies and death comes to life in strangest way. Hello Resties! ❤️ Day 29 of #RzPoDiMo brings to you- "Circle Poem" You can attempt it in both Hindi and English and best ones will be featured on our Instagram page! 🎉 (Follow us with link in bio to see the features!) How to write it: • Your poem must be written in such a way, that the words take the shape of the circle given.

What would life tell you if it could speak? The fact that it's waiting for death. Just like ocean and sky- they're two opposite souls, divided and united by the horizon called love. What would happen if we know that life and death are lost lovers who meet when life dies and death comes to life in strangest way. Hello Resties! ❤️ Day 29 of #RzPoDiMo brings to you- "Circle Poem" You can attempt it in both Hindi and English and best ones will be featured on our Instagram page! 🎉 (Follow us with link in bio to see the features!) How to write it: • Your poem must be written in such a way, that the words take the shape of the circle given.