Award-winning Indian Book Blogger
Nights and mornings, all feel the same. I can't tell one from the other. And yet, when I look at the walls around me, everything's changed. When and how, is what I'm left with. Feels like an age has passed in the blink of an eye. Some I wish to see, are far far away.... Continue Reading →
no storms were bold enough no waves as wild as this hundred-year old heart and this five-year old mind How do you like my new micropoetry format? Like it? No? Do share your thoughts below. Follow @themusingquill on Instagram for more poetry. I await you there. 🙂 ~~~~~ Asha Seth
चलते चलते कदम नहीं थकते ठहर जाने से थकते हैं यह सोचकर परेशान नहीं दिल की कल की सुबह आज सी नहीं होगी पर इस सोच में डूबा रेहता है की आज की शाम कल सी हुई तोह क्या डर इस बात का नहीं की कल अपने मुँह मोड़ लें फिक्र इस बात की होती... Continue Reading →
when I returned lost and beaten through the woods to reach where I belong no one was there to welcome me except the scorching trail and the ruins beyond ~~~~~ Asha Seth
Time wasn't on our side. Today, when it is too late, I convince myself thus. Maybe I wasn't the right age to understand. Maybe you were too harsh that I suffered in vain. Maybe I comprehended you wrong. Maybe you misunderstood me much. I believed you knew what you were doing. Unleashing a world of... Continue Reading →
December with all its damp left me happier than January with all the sun could 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
He looked into my face, turned away, and stared again. I wondered what it was he was searching. Whether he found it. Whether not. I tried to make out from the way his eyes scanned the lines of my face. How did I look to stranger eyes? His gaze rested on my lips. Maybe the... Continue Reading →
What can be hoped after your last chance is snatched away? What can you say when a debris of words clogs your throat, gnaws at your brain? What remains when your heart's tired of being numb? What can be done, when that 'one last time' never comes? ~~~~~ Asha Seth
it doesn’t matter whether days fuse into nights or seas dissolve into the skies you carry on breathing the same air eating the same dust as the day you were born like the day after you die ~~~~~ Asha Seth
An award-winning book blogger, a copywriter by profession, and a story-teller at heart, Asha is a born reveur. Notoriously renowned as the 'BadBookthief', she loves books, dogs, and wine. Welcome to her inspiring world of Writing, Poetry, Books, Travels, and more.
DM for Collaborations on badbookthief@gmail.com
Readers’ Speak