yarnofwords is now on Instagram

Dear All,

I'm taking my love for words, the tryst which began 14 years ago to the next level. After much thought and consideration, I'm sharing my poetry and quotes on Instagram. I can be followed at yarnofwords:)
Deepest and most sincere thanks for all the love you showered here, for staying put, just like my words despite of long gaps in writing.

Instagram is solely for the love of words and writing. Sharing an excerpt here....
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Looking forward to have you there!

The Blessings of Borobudur

 

There’s a Borobudur

You do not know

There’s a Borobudur

You may never know

For the words you read

Are not your experience

And the pictures you see

Are not your visions

The praises your hear

Are not your sounds

So my dear,

If the place calls you

Give it a visit

For a sight of pilgrimage

Deserves all the reverence

A sight of grand marvel

Deserves all the awe

But Borobudur is different

In all the respects

It calls you to enter

Your very own world

Layers of unwrapping

Peeling of the dead skins

You call it an architectural endeavour?

I call it a Blessing

Watch out for this space to know more about my trip to Yogyakarta, Indonesia:)

Melancholia as we have known?

There’s a beauty in resting which we don’t always see

There’s a beauty in silence which we don’t always hear

There’s a beauty within us which often doesn’t judges

There’s a depth waiting to be delved into, only if we set ourselves free

I miss him; every bit of him. No, I never got to know him personally, but whatever I did made me fall head over heels for him. His humour, his tears, his expressions, his flawless screen presence and oh that smile. Every character he played was a real person somewhere. I wouldn’t call it “acting” for he would become that character. So beautifully would he merge himself that the boundaries seemed invisible. Then I wonder “Why did he do what he did?” As I write, I ask myself “Is taking one’s own death the answer to all the anguish one feels? Is that one switch that shall set everything free?” A part of me stands in affirmative, the other feels pained for it knows how difficult depression can be. It’s not just “get up and feel better”! Ah! You wish it was that easy! The meaning of illnesses often goes beyond their phenomenology. It’s a key to the past, for what happened and sometimes, also for what not happened. It’s grieving for the losses and mourning for the traumas (that which may not always be ‘big’ events). It’s a whirlpool of emotions that even emotions may not fathom.

Then some ask “What about the feeling of emptiness?” and I say “ Don’t we all have a space in our hearts that longs for something? That some “thing” which may not actually be a thing, but a moment, perhaps, or an event or a person or an interaction or a scenic landscape or simply observing someone be happy? Maybe, just, maybe, there’s a reason why that space stays empty for everyone. Something which cannot be filled so easily has to mean a lot more than the space it creates in the heart or the soul. To me it feels that it’s a symbol of the lives we have lived. More so, it’s like the empty spaces of every human being all go back to this one giant ball of thread where we all emerged from. The question now lies in the fact, what do you do with it? I say, let it just be. Just because we live in a world that continues “to do” something in no way means that’s the solution to everything. Sometimes, “being” is where the answer lies.

As for him, I will miss him every time I see him. Today I saw him as Patch Adams. Like always, he took my heart away and whatever was left off melted away.

Love

Mrs. Aakriti ( with effect from 18^th April 2016)

If words are your calling,..then Kaafiya is your abode

For a poet words are where the world begins and then there is no end to them…….to infinity and beyond.......

When words stir

My feelings up

And tears are all that fall

With a reminiscent smile

That beckons the past

I look into the heart of

The poet who penned

Those words so mellifluous

And ask….

“ If her words give life

To a dead part of me

If her words speak

Of the unspoken and the muted me

Aren’t we the same?

Her heart, my breath,

His tears and my words,

Their voice, my lips,

Innumerable voices, One soul

WE, A UNIVERSE.....”

I said what I had to……If these words reach out to you, a spark, a glimmer, a melody, a haiku…..Come, Be part of Delhi’s most fantastic two day festival KAAFIYA…..where poets of all ages, colour and mystical hearts shall dissolve themselves in weaving a yarn of words… 10^th and 11^th October at India Habitat Centre.

Love

Brushed

The cheeks brushed against

Those salty drops; storms blazing

Inside made a wreck

The eyes slept with night

Sun peeking at lashes

Drying night’s remains

 

Linking up at haiku horizon:) So glad to be back

The beauty that fails to die

Dear words,

Did you ever know that you would be stringed together

With the last or the middle letter to form a necklace I would love to wear?

Dear music,

Did you ever know that a little tap here and a string there

Would melt my heart and soothe my soul?

Dear capsicum,

Did you ever know how green would look on you

As you wore that colour and carried that crispness to lure me in?

Dear Dark Chocolate,

Did you ever know that you bitterness would glide

And arouse someone even as you would melt in their bodies?

Dear Flowers,

Did you ever know that your petals would add vigour

Joy and hope as lay there dead, bringing someone alive?

Dear water,

Did you know how gracefully you could flow, in reality

And in metaphor, washing away my fears and pain?

Dear love,

Did you ever know the many hearts you would touch in a lifetime

Aching, breaking and uniting forever?

Dear Beauty,

Did you ever know how musical you would sound

As I would utter your being in my whisper?

Touch

That shirt of yours, dear Love

Glides on my skin and rests at my waist

Your fingers lock in the strands you untangle

Eyes closed, I feel…..you

As I walked towards your home

A rush gathered, bursting my veins into a rainbow

The colours splashed onto you in an embrace

Pink looked gorgeous on your lips

Your sweatshirt can’t replace you

It feels me, in your absence

Knows not how I long for that touch

The one that melts dark chocolate into luscious berries

Neither touched by you nor me, yet eaten.

P.S: Prompt 'touch' given by a friend:)

Blossom

Blossom is the bud

That was once as naïve as a pup

Blossom is that petal

That knows what ‘being held’ means

Blossom is that skin

That feels the magic of an embrace

Blossom is that tea

That lifts up in the mug gifted by you

Blossom is that memory

Where one links up to another

Blossoms and more blossoms

In the earth that grew on the footprints you left behind…….

Rarest of the Rare

Not very often

More so rare

You find a soul

That beckons you to a world

Never seen, touched or heard

Offering possibilities, dreams

With thousand wings at once.

Not very often

Rarely in dreams

You find a presence

As balmy as shade

As nurturing as a well wisher

Kindling a fire of growth

Only to lit a million lamps.

Not very often

Rarely! Oh ! so rarely

You find a being

Whose presence absorbs you

Like enlightenment reaching your heart

And when such rarity comes to life

You bid the past and welcome the new start

                              

                                     

Come dine with me

She let out screams of laughter

Shining through her smiles

Danced her way to glory

Till her breath could calm a while

The lady there in grey

Wore a dress of melancholic tinge

Her eyes bore the black of night

Her glass empty, for another fill

The mistress in blood red

Seething with anger to brim

Had fists full of rage as her accessory

Hurling abuses she wanted to kill

The lady next to the door

Stand watching with her heart burning

High heels of envious brand

She loathed them whom she saw achieving

At the corner was Self- contempt

Willing not to meet its own eyes

Looking pretty, doubting as always

Knowing not what to do with life

The hostess walked in welcoming

The different shades of Me

The feast reflecting myriad shades

Those which belonged to me