Day 622: When Dad left for his Maker

There is this song that makes me miss you so much. The song I speak of is Alone by Alan Walker. I do not know who's the singer. But something is different about the music. It takes me to a place I so want to be. And I know that place is nowhere. Because no... Continue Reading →

Day 499 – When Dad left for his Maker

The other day, a dog by the street side kept staring at me.  First, I thought he was hungry. So I fed him. But even then he had that look about him; a quizzical, strange look. I couldn't name it. Was he trying to say something? I had read somewhere that your departed communicate with... Continue Reading →

Living in Cemeteries…

Of late, walking into cemeteries and whiling away time amidst the graves, gazing and pondering over the residents of those headstones, has caught my fancy. Upside: I am a new person to me. Downside: I still can't muster the courage to do it after the sun's gone down. Slowly, my fear of them is diminishing... Continue Reading →

Stars

Some of us didn't look for our loved ones in the stars we kept them safe hidden in our hearts Follow @badbookthief on Instagram for more micropoetry. I await you there. 🙂 ~~~~~ Asha Seth

Day 282: When Dad left for his Maker

Imagining life without someone, when have we ever given that a thought? I was the same. But with you gone, life has taken an unexpected turn. I am now looking at things, I never gave a thought. I am reminiscing over events, that once craved my attention. I am lusting for certain aches, that once... Continue Reading →

Rebury this Soul…

walking down familiar lanes never realised they had changed withered, eroded muddied, faded trees lining street-ends had grown dustier leaves rattled by storms had grown mustier walking down familiar lanes never realized how I had changed never stopped to care even when omens lay bare as the last grains of the hour glass called for... Continue Reading →

Day 170: When Dad left for his Maker

There are nights I wake up in a haze. My eyes travel to your rocking chair at the end of the room. Is it truly rocking or is it my mind playing tricks? It is difficult to say in the dark of the night. I stare hard and long as if staring longer would make... Continue Reading →

Irony

Flowers bloom where the dead lie. What an irony! What a place to thrive! ~~~~~ Follow @badbookthief on Instagram for more micropoetry. Happy writing till we meet next. Until then, carpe diem! 🙂 ~~~~~ © Asha Seth Stay in touch. Subscribe Now: Youtube| Twitter| Instagram| Facebook| Tumblr

उस रोज़…

उस रोज़ जब नींद ने अलविदा कहा ऐसा लगा बरसों पुराने किसी दोस्त से बिछड़ना हुआ खुद को जब आईने में देखा ऐसा लगा किसी अजनबी से मुलाकात हुई हस्ते हुए चेहरे के पीछे उस अक्स को पहचान न सकी आंगन में कबूतरों की गुटर गु कुछ नागवार सी लगी उनकी आवाज़ उदासीन सी लगी... Continue Reading →

A WordPress.com Website.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: