Ripples of my Reflections

I think, therefore I write

Tag: Fiction (page 1 of 4)

Broken promises

Your words lie scattered around me
In my dreams, in reality, on paper and in my memories
I keep asking myself, was any of them true?
Even for that one instant when they escaped your lips
This hurt tells me a story, one that oozes with my trust
And its broken heart, and of course, your broken promises.

Your mirages surround me all day
Morning, noon and night, when I am asleep and awake
I don’t expect any respite from your ghosting
It’s all my own making, I know that very well
This pain tells me a story, one that drips with my love
And its broken wings, and of course, your broken promises.

Your memoirs fill my room, nook and corner
Without the heart to throw them out,
And without the heart to look at them either
I shut my eyes and think of the world as a dark tunnel
This blind sight tells me a story, one that stinks of my denial
And its persistence, and of course, your broken promises.

Your fragrance is still on my bed sheets,
Reminding me of the warmth and cosiness,
Illusions I know, but comforting ones nevertheless
I curl a bit more inside them, hoping it would all come back
This smell tells me a story, one that screams of my hope
And its vanity, and of course, your broken promises.

All those broken promises, swirl around me
As broken shards of glass turning my world into dust
I only wish when this storm clears, it clears away all of you
All of you, your memories and of course, your broken promises
Because I do not want to surrender, you know
Not to your broken promises!

Being broken is not a crime, Staying that way is!

Do you agree? How do you like this post?

Until later 🙂

Image Source: pexels.com

Storm

The two characters that immediately come to my mind when you say storm are Storm from X-Men and Daenerys from A Song of Ice and Fire.

Storm can be interpreted in many ways – rage, frustration, struggle, confusion, supernatural and so on. But to interpret Storm as a woman’s strength is something that excites me, something that provides my muse with more adrenaline.

Facing a storm of struggles is hard, but becoming the storm itself in the face of struggles takes a strength of a different class. Here’s to everyone who’s become the storm and to everyone who aspires to be one:

Lot of thoughts in my mind
None of it is about you
You never existed for me
Not as a reality
Not as a shadow
That’s why you shouldn’t flatter yourself
Thinking that you saw me struggling in your storm
What you don’t know is, I am the storm in every struggle!

Until later 🙂

Echo

A light fragrance in the air, and
A feeling of hands running through my hair,
Reminding me of you and your memory
A time capsule, buried deep in me.

Like a ghost from the past,
Every memory of you is a blast.
But there’s no pain in me
Or my memories, none at all.

When & how did you fade?
From being the voice of my soul
To a mere echo, blighted in existence.
And I wonder, was that all there was to us?

Life teaches a lot of intriguing lessons
The best of which, I think, is to forget.
As I heal with each passing day,
I learn to let your memories fade away.

Like that distant echo that you can’t catch,
Like that missing piece of the puzzle,
Like the rain-washed verses of an estranged poem,
Like the forgotten beauty of a lost voice.

~

Until later 🙂

Book Review: The Cuckoo’s calling

I have been holding off on this book since I couldn’t imagine Rowling’s style of writing in any other way than the Harry Potter series. Being a huge HP fan, I didn’t want to be in a prejudiced state of mind when I read this. However, curiosity got the better of me as I started reading more reviews about this book and most of them rated the book above 3.5. And they were right, I like The Cuckoo’s calling to bits.

When I started the book, I immediately felt comfortable with the author’s writing style and wondered if it was my prejudiced knowledge of the author. But, as I read page after page, I realized that it is not so. This book was in a different league from the fantasy fiction of Harry Potter, it had a unique writing style that made me fall in love with it. The descriptions of characters, situations, places – everything kept me hooked to the book and that’s exactly what any reader would look for in a crime fiction. Cormoran Strike, the protagonist takes the reader through the case with ease and keeps us guessing what’s next.

When the famous model Lula Landry falls to her death under suspicious circumstances, none except her brother thinks there’s something fishy about her death. Even the rigorous rounds of police investigation concludes that it was a suicide. But there is a witness who overheard an argument seconds before Lula Landry fell and there’s a CCTV footage of two men running away from the scene of crime with their faces covered. These evidences are proven to be false or insignificant to the case in the police investigation. However, John Bristow, Lula Landry’s brother is not satisfied. He brings in Cormoran Strike, a war veteran resigned to private detective after his leg injury, to investigate the case further and find justice for his dead sister.

Was it indeed a suicide? Was Lula capable of going from perfectly happy to suicidal in a span of few hours? Was there a motive for someone to murder her? All these questions are strewn across the plot as Lula’s complicated familial and upbringing situations are analysed. The book effortlessly navigates through a detective’s analysis and keeps us guessing about all possibilities. However, I was a little disappointed about who turned out to be the criminal since this had been done and dusted a little too many times. The story could have been twisted into using a different leg but that opportunity is what I felt is lost towards the climax of the book. Also, the title of the book is derived from a very insignificant plot or phase of the story. It could have been more relevant and provoking.

Otherwise, The Cuckoo’s calling is an unputdownable book that is immensely enjoyable. It cost me my weekend for the most part as I started it and I was compelled to sit and complete this, instead of doing the household chores. I am planning on buying the sequel The Silkworm soon as I cannot wait to read more of Cormoran Strike and his investigation tactics.

My rating: 4/5

Until later 🙂

Lovelorn



Image by: Sarolta Ban

The trail you left lingered in the air
As beautiful as the star dust
And the decor of the magical night sky
With the blinking stars and shooting comets
It all reminds me of that sweet memory
When nothing else mattered than
Your voice, your honey coated voice
Kindling a wave of serendipitous nostalgia
Eons of time passed, without a pause
Yet, here I am and there you are
Separated by time and space
Like a lovelorn moon and the high tide
Trying to reach its lover but failing in vain
Still, I will wait for the day I hear your voice again
Even when I know that might never happen
For I can never give up on waiting for you
For now, your memory will suffice
For my heart to rest and for me to dream on…
And on…

Linking this to Magpie Tales : Mag 274

Until later 🙂

P.S: This form of poetry is new to me, where just the lyrics talk volumes without any focus on the rhyme. Inspired by Sreesha Divakaran who blogs at Petrichor and Clouds and writes amazing poetry.

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