asamvav111

Drowning Blue… blue… many shades of blue Some green mixed with some grey Surprise mixed with sadness Awe separated from jealousy A serene perfection of existence From beneath the mirror looking up towards the heavens of the mid day sky Azure longings turning into height of disdain And broken hearts bleed poisonous green Pus-sy yellow disbelieving the lie of red Will you be my valentine behind the water curtain? A solitary kiss of rainbow emotions Burning through my skin of deceit More blue… cyanotic lips Feelings crushing my lungs under their weight Hope drowning in desire 20/07/16 ©asamvav111

Best of Luck! Great you found directions all by yourself. That's the best kind of realization. Hope future will bring more sweet fruits of perspiration.

Hold on. Hold onto that ledge. You are not alone. Things may seem overwhelming, but they are not. They are outside of you. Ergo they are coloured by your perspective of them. And perspectives change. Give it time. Give your meds time to help you. Talk to your doctor. Nana is a godsend. Pamper her a little. And keep writing but don't force yourself. Write as you please. About the story, there are far more sensitive themes published on this site. What matters is if it is treated with empathy and care. So take care... of your stories, of yourself. Hugs.

Please see a doctor asap.

could be a Gay bar anthem.

My great grand father was a wealthy person. And like every wealthy person he had multiple wives and possibly one mistress. So of his three wives he had 14 children, seven sons and seven daughters. Of them five daughters and six sons survived to adulthood. All of the men had very interesting lives including my own grand father. All the women lead the same life of getting married to a rich guy early and nothing was heard after that. Amongst the children of my great grand father, there was a significant confusion to the fact whose mother was who. In fact until quite recently, during all the family's religious rites my father was mentioning the wrong woman as the progenitor of our line and offering obeisances. We have a succinct record of all the men of our family for last 23 generations. It's the women we have forgotten. Then again in Indian culture, women were never that important so... Yet it is through these great women the line had continued. They had equal contribution to making the family exist, their children's success.

*dances a little*

Actually, I wanted to explore what it will be to speak or rather unspeak about your love lost in your deathbed. If you had been a deeply-closeted, abusive, hetero-normative, catholic guy and you were dying, in your final confession that opens the doors of the silver city, will you come clean and make a true confession to absolve you, when you believe the same confession will close those doors for you? Will you choose to be a sinner in love, an abomination? Thank you both for your kind words.

Fiesty... Melikes! That post has very good prospects of becoming a poem.

Extreme Unction Unloved, Unkissed, Unconfessed sins Of hidden romances, Daring lusts to reach the heavens of Unmuted affections. Uncouth, Unknown, Undesired attraction Of objects lost, To deny the existence of Unseen memoirs of transgressions. Unforgiven, Untold, Unending love. 15/05/16 ©asamvav111

Just hang in there. If all is not well, then the story hasn't ended yet. "Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know."

Sorry for your loss. Indian funerals are the same deal. I guess all asian ones are. What is the ritual belief behind Chinese paper folding on funerals?

"I'm still dangerously underemployed. I'm 26 and live with my parents." Dude, get in the line!

This one and Lets Make A Night are my all time favourites by Brian Adams.

taking this! love you as always... especially with nostalgic blue genes.

"Whole characters can emerge from the mist because of the way an adjective meets a noun." Wow

You are AMAZING! I know you know by now, but just had to say.

Wonderfully done. Thanks for sharing.

You are hands down one of the most talented writers here. And I know someday soon you will be a phenomenon. Hugs.

Cars I know nothing about, so I will stick to literature. You should stop writing for now. Just let life stew and the cauldron will bubble over sooner than you think. A Storyteller can not be but a storyteller. You just need to stop to catch your breath. Popular writing is a myth. There is no formula for a Good Story. Just as there is no formula for good music. Learn the technicalities and practice, practice, practice. Everyday work on a short exposition, a giblet. Do it the same way we practice essay writing in school. Take an idea in your mind and see it blossom. Just observe, meditate. And the ink will flow. Lastly, read a lot more than you write. Read anything and everything; the good and the bad. Then, try to put it down in your own words. This is a great exercise. As far poetry is concerned, it the expression of pure truth, something that is beyond the grasp of words. If you churn yourself enough, the essence will be distilled. It is the greatest privilege to come face to face with the light of poetry, an eternal dawn of truth. And privileges are to be earned. Except may be for the very few in history whom providence has bestowed such grace, poetry has to be earned through blood, sweat and tears. And from your writing I can tell, you are not far behind. Godspeed.

Balance-boards and Ex's... nice analogy!

Congrats!

I hope things gotten better now! Hugs. God bless.

India needs this... truckloads of it.

I'm sorry for your loss. Love and prayers for the family.