Tag: creative writing

  • If Vincent were a mental health activist and a slam poet.

    Who gave you the right to dub my night depressing or fill my stars with hope? What if the dark is my time of rest and the shimmers of light, a distraction at best? Who asked you to call my cypress, the foreboding of death? When they are as commonplace in my topography as dying…

  • The horror

    The horror

    Her horror turned to disappointment. Disappointment with herself for acting powerless. It is odd how pain inflicted on a part of our body wounds the mind first. This particular blow hit her most precious part – her daughter; the pain permeated her skull and left a scar on her motherhood. So far it had been…

  • The A to Z of what really matters.

    A tiny little voice cried out in pain, “I didn’t mean to mumma.” Barely did she finish the sentence that her mother looked at her with disappointment. Caught in an impending storm of tears the little one looked at her mother, imploring her to forgive. Dilnar knew she had upset her mother by dropping her…