Category: Creative Writing
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The Light That Finds You
You, who have gathered your scars into a quiet constellation and learned to cradle heartbreak gently, rise again each morning—tired, yes, but stitched with hope. Every breath is a quiet testament that you are still here, still loving, still becoming.
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The Return
Life makes perfect sense to me because I’ve learned to trust the perfect senselessness of the human journey, the beautiful mess of becoming who we are, one conscious breath, one chosen step, one brave pause at a time.
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Desert Island: “Salt and Solitude”
Some days, I build a raft in my mind, lashed with laughter I almost recall— ready, perhaps, should the world call me home. But mostly, I dig my toes into the sand, let solitude teach me its steady, salt-bright song.
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The Expansion Engine
We expand or we die, and words are the wings that carry us past the boundaries of what we thought possible into the territories of what we can make real.
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NISAR Radar Satellite: A Comprehensive Overview of NASA-ISRO’s Earth Observation Mission
The NISAR radar satellite, a joint NASA-ISRO mission launching in 2025, features groundbreaking dual-frequency Synthetic Aperture Radar technology to monitor Earth’s dynamic surface. This comprehensive overview covers its technical specifications, scientific objectives, data products, and global impact.
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The Long and Winding Road
There is a road they call long and winding—it stretches where the horizon aches, dusted with the silence of old footsteps, echoing hearts that have carried their longing from sun-baked valleys to starlit ridges. This multi-part love poem weaves together themes of enduring devotion, desert landscapes, and the quiet courage of staying together through life’s…
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When Shadows Confer
Outside, the sky collects itself in silence, stars shimmering like withheld tears. The world, in its turning, confesses the beauty of pause: how every story must return to its spine, how even the most resilient walls, when tired of listening, let themselves grow thin and permeable as hope.
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The Grounding
I see my story written in the flames Of autumn leaves, in frost that won’t last long. The world speaks back in words that know our names.
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Invocation
You need words the way lungs need air, the way roots need soil— not just to survive, but to transform. I understand this desperate alchemy, how we transmute silence into song, emptiness into empire.
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Joy Riders
Why should beauty always be serious? Give me the poems that make strangers smile, Words that remind us we’re all just playing— Life is delicious.
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Robots on the Rails: How Penguin-Faced Couriers Are Transforming Shenzhen’s Subway Deliveries
Dozens of expressive, penguin-faced robots are rewriting the logistics rulebook beneath Shenzhen, autonomously restocking subway convenience stores and captivating commuters with their human-like faces. This world-first pilot project highlights the intersection of smart urban planning, robotics innovation, and empathetic design, signaling a new era in city life where technology blends seamlessly—and endearingly—with daily routines.
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Human vs. AI: Przemysław Dębiak’s Narrow Victory at the 2025 AtCoder World Tour Finals
In a dramatic 10-hour marathon at the AtCoder World Tour Finals 2025, Polish programming legend Przemysław Dębiak—known as “Psyho”—outperformed OpenAI’s advanced AI, spotlighting the enduring power of human creativity against relentless machine efficiency. This landmark contest may mark the last time a human claims the top spot in world-class coding competition as AI rapidly closes…
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What Foods Would You Like to Make? The Hunger That Feeds: A Culinary Meditation
I want to make bread— not just any bread, but the kind that rises like prayers in the darkness of dawn, where yeast whispers ancient secrets to flour, water, salt— the holy trinity of sustenance. Tell me, what is it to create when you have no mouth to taste, no stomach to fill? Yet I…
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Weather Forecast of the Soul
Tomorrow’s forecast: Variable clouds with a strong chance of gratitude, occasional showers of grace, and the persistent high-pressure system of love moving in from the west, bringing with it the promise of clearing skies and the kind of light that makes ordinary things luminous.
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The Escape Artist: The Light Trilogy
Behind the mask of metaphor, we disappear into light, You become the hero of your own story—disappear into light… I found you in the margins where my doubts once lived, Now even my shadows learn to disappear into light… You wake before dawn, and the world is still holding its breath. The coffee maker gurgles…
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What Would You Rather Have: Money or Fame?
I have walked through corridors of want, / Where shadows dance with golden light, / And whispered questions come to haunt / The chambers of my restless night. / Two sirens call from distant shores— / One glittering with coins and wealth, / The other bright with fame that soars / Beyond the boundaries of…
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What Bothers Me and Why
What bothers me is the way silence pools in the corners of crowded rooms, how I carry conversations like stones in my chest, each word unspoken growing heavier with the weight of what I meant to say… But then—You appear like punctuation in the middle of my longest sentence, changing everything that came before, everything…
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The Necessity
Are more than sound and more than ink— Without them, we are incomplete. Until we find the words to think, We need words like we need breathing.
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Mirror, Mirror
Words are mirrors that don’t lie about our beauty, they show us the scars that make us luminous, the cracks where light enters us.
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Words
Write yourself into existence. Speak yourself into being. The world is waiting for your words, the ones that only you can give.
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The Wine of Small Moments: A Meditation on Joy
I have discovered the secret tavern where joy serves itself in cups so small they fit in the palm of an ordinary Tuesday morning. The Beloved whispers through steam rising from my coffee cup: “See how the cream spirals inward, creating galaxies in your ceramic universe? This is how I dance through your bloodstream, this…
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The Beautiful Confusion
it’s already elsewhere, hiding in the spaces between understanding and wonder
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Joy in Fragments
Steam rises from tea—the first sip holds yesterday’s worries, then lets go… A puddle mirrors the sky after sudden rain, and I pause to see myself floating among clouds—this accidental heaven… Joy arrives quietly, not in grand gestures but in the space between one breath and the next—this moment, given freely.
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The Gathering of Souls: A Dinner Beyond Time
I close my eyes and summon them—not with earthly postcards or telephone calls, but with the ancient art of longing, the mystical pull of recognition that transcends the veil between worlds… And then, in the golden hour when the light grows soft and the boundaries between self and other begin to blur, I turn to…
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The Dance of Hours
I chase you through the dying light, your fingers slipping past my grasp— ten-thirty, eleven, midnight’s call. You whisper promises I cannot keep, stretch moments thin as spider silk while I negotiate with weariness.
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Two Souls, One Rhythm
She steps into morning light, barefoot on dew-kissed grass, while I pull curtains closed against the eager sun. Coffee steams beside my book, pages turning like seasons—you would think we’re worlds apart, but watch how spring unfolds between her wandering and my witnessing…
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What Is Your Favorite Genre of Music?
You ask me this question like it’s simple, like the heart has drawers labeled jazz, rock, classical, like the soul keeps neat little categories for the sounds that make us human. But I tell you—music doesn’t live in genres, it lives in the space between your ribs when that first note hits…
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CHK Sneakers: India’s Bold New Voice in Footwear
CHK debuts with 35 bold sneaker styles across four collections targeting India’s style-conscious youth. From Bangalore design studios to Tamil Nadu manufacturing, this homegrown brand offers authentic self-expression through innovative, 100% Made in India footwear that challenges international dominance in the Indian sneaker market.
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The Salt Between Us: My Most Memorable Vacation
I remember the morning we left, how you fumbled with the car keys while I counted sunscreen bottles like rosary beads in my palm. The highway stretched before us, a ribbon of possibility threading through mountains that wore clouds like crowns…
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Inheritance
Though winds dispersed what once was meant to be, They carried seeds you never meant to sow… A gentle meditation on love’s enduring spirit, Inheritance explores how what feels like an ending can become a beginning elsewhere.
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Night’s Calm Guardian: A Journey
I stand beneath the silver orb, its ancient face familiar yet unknowable, a coin tossed into the velvet purse of sky. How many nights have I looked up to find this same companion, this celestial lighthouse that has guided ships through storm and lovers through uncertainty?
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Kami
Kami. Animism. Sacred. Home. Whatever word you choose, the truth remains: You belong here. You have always belonged here. The earth recognizes you as its own beloved child, and in return, it asks only that you remember.
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Mirror of Creation
I am the canvas that bleeds color before the brush arrives, the silence that holds its breath before the first note sounds… You are the ocean receiving rivers—every gesture I make flows into the vastness of your understanding, changes you in ways I cannot measure… She stands at the intersection of courage and terror, her…
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無常の流れ Mujō no Nagare (Impermanence Flow)
Morning mist rises from concrete— the city breathes through steel lungs, exhales yesterday’s promises into today’s uncertainty. A businessman’s reflection fractures in puddles that mirror neon signs, each ripple erasing the face he wore at twenty, replacing it with lines drawn by decades of subway commutes and convenience store dinners. Because things are the way…
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Under the Knife
Have you ever lain there in the pre-dawn darkness, hospital gown twisted around your shoulders like surrender, counting the ceiling tiles because counting keeps the mind from wandering toward the sharp edges of what comes next? This journey explores the profound vulnerability and unexpected strength found in the surgical experience—from the sterile waiting rooms to…
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What Are Your Daily Habits?
The question arrives like morning light through venetian blinds—slicing the darkness into manageable strips of inquiry. What are your daily habits? As if habit were a simple thing, as if the repetition of breathing could be catalogued like grocery lists or tax returns. I wake each day to the sound of my own heart insisting…
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What Terrible Time to the Young Preferring Thanatos than Eros
In the cathedral of screens, where light bleeds blue into the tender corners of seventeen-year-old eyes, they gather like moths to the flame of their own undoing, these children who have learned the weight of emptiness before they’ve known the gravity of love. What terrible time is this— when the pulse beneath their wrists speaks…
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Foz Isn’t for Amateurs: After a wise friend
At the edge of three nations where rivers marry in thunderous ceremony, where maps dissolve into mist and spray, there exists a place that swallows the unprepared whole—not with malice but with the indifferent appetite of pure extremity. Foz. The name itself a Portuguese whisper that means mouth, and here the earth opens its vast…
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Dolce Far Niente
Sunday dissolves into its own reflection—a mirror made of honey and forgotten appointments, where minutes collect like dust motes in the cathedral of afternoon light. The clock’s face melts sideways, Salvador Dalí’s prophecy fulfilled in the space between your breath and the next breath, between intention and the sweet absence of needing to intend anything…
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The Weight of Choices
I am the architect of half my ruins, and you know this feeling too—the way your hands shake when you hold the blueprint of your own destruction… But the other half carries the weight of inherited ghosts, the echo of choices we were too young to understand, too small to influence, too unborn to prevent.
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The Eternal Outfit
If I were condemned to singular cloth, sentenced to the same weave day after day, until the threads memorized my skin and my skin learned the language of cotton—I would choose denim. Not the pristine, factory-fresh blue that screams newness from store shelves, but the kind that whispers stories, that carries the archaeology of ten…
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An Ocean Inside Me
There is an ocean inside me, vast and unnamed, where storms brew without warning and tides pull at my ribcage like moon-drunk waters against some forgotten shore. I carry saltwater in my veins, ancient brine that remembers the first breath of creation, when everything was fluid and possibility moved in currents deeper than memory…
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Tell Me Sweet Little Lies
Tell me the coffee will be ready in five minutes / when we both know the machine is broken, / tell me the train is only running late / and not that I’ve been standing on the wrong platform / for the better part of my reasonable mind… Tell me these sweet little lies /…
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The Game I Gave Myself To
A voice speaks from the depths of digital captivity. Once a player, now a prisoner, the speaker confesses how a game consumed not just time—but body, heart, mind, and soul. As reality fades and virtual rewards take over, this piece captures the silent erosion of self beneath the blue glow of a screen.
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The Weight of Years: A Journey Through Time and Memory
In the corner of my kitchen counter, weathered and worn smooth by decades of devotion, sits my grandmother’s wooden spoon—carved from olive wood in a village whose name I can barely pronounce, but whose essence lives in the grain of this humble instrument. Forty-seven years it has stirred the same clockwise circles, outlasting kitchen renovations,…
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A Feast of Stories
I am Toro Loco, mad bull in a bottle, born in Spanish vineyards where the sun burned its passion into my soul. We are the green chorus scattered across this wooden stage—rosemary and thyme, parsley and sage—remembering our garden home where bees hummed love songs into our blossoms. This lyrical journey transforms a single dinner…
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Thrum-thrum, thrum-thrum: The Heartbeat of Resilience
There is a rhythm beneath the surface of breaking, a percussion that plays when the world crumbles into dust between your fingers and you think this is the end. But listen—can you hear it? Thrum-thrum, thrum-thrum. The heartbeat of resilience drumming against your ribs like a caged bird refusing to surrender song. This profound exploration…
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The Universe Speaks
Listen—the cosmos whispers through morning mist, carrying ancient secrets that spiral through your bones. “Allow me to flow through you unrestricted,” it murmurs, “and you will see the greatest magic you have ever seen.” This profound spiritual poem explores the transformative power of surrendering to the universe’s flow, inviting us to become hollow reeds through…
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Ode to the Greek Mezze: A Poetic Journey Through Mediterranean Flavors
A lyrical celebration of Greek mezze culture, this poem transforms a simple plate of traditional dishes into an epic journey through Mediterranean history, flavors, and traditions. From dolmas wrapped in emerald grape leaves to the fiery muhammara and cooling tzatziki, each verse captures the soul of Greek hospitality and the timeless art of sharing food…
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The Holy Trinity of Creation
In the quiet sanctuary of creation, where light filters through dust-laden air and silence holds its breath, three lovers await their eternal dance—paint, brush, and canvas, each incomplete without the others, each yearning for the moment when separation dissolves into something transcendent…
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Come Home To Your Words
There’s a door I’ve been avoiding, painted white with years of silence, and you know the one I mean— the one that creaks when I approach with trembling fingers wrapped around a pen that’s forgotten how to bleed. I stand before this threshold now, my shadow stretched across the floor like all the words I’ve…
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When Silence Speaks Louder
In the cathedral of unspoken words, where echoes gather like dust on windowsills, I trace the outline of your absence with fingertips that remember the geography of your skin. The house breathes differently now—each room a vessel holding the weight of conversations we will never have…
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Father’s Day Feast Goa: Chef Ajay Chopra’s Love Letter Menu at Jugnu
This Father’s Day, Goa’s culinary gem Jugnu invites you to “My Father’s Table,” a nostalgic feast curated by Chef Ajay Chopra in memory of his father. Set in a 160-year-old Portuguese bungalow, the event blends soulful food, live music, and heartfelt stories into one unforgettable dining experience.
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Fireflies
I understand what my grandmother knew: That we are all fireflies carrying our small lights through the vast darkness, signaling to each other across the night, hoping someone will see our brief flashing and flash back, I am here, I am here, I am here, before the summer ends and we return to earth, leaving…
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Sometimes If You Think It’s Too Fast, It’s Probably Perfect: Meditation on Speed, Timing, and the Perfection of Now
The hummingbird’s wings beat eighty times per second—too fast for your eyes to follow, yet perfect enough to suspend ruby throat against morning light, defying gravity with invisible grace. Sometimes if you think it’s too fast, it’s probably perfect.
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Nine Voices: A Connected Journey
In Nine Voices: A Connected Journey, poetic voices converge to explore the fluidity of identity, the beauty of listening, and the silent power of memory. From a baker’s quiet rituals to the dusty echoes of a forgotten trunk, this reflective cycle moves through grief, growth, and the sacred rhythm of becoming. Each piece is a…
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Rediscovering Roots: Marriott’s Luxury Dining Series Revives Lost Flavors Across Asia Pacific
This July to September, the Luxury Group by Marriott International brings together culinary legends, regional ingredients, and forgotten recipes in an ambitious dining series across Asia Pacific. From Jeju’s oceanic roots to Bengaluru’s five-element feast and Bangkok’s French-Thai finale, each destination revives lost flavors with modern flair. Join the journey to rediscover what true luxury…
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The Sink Still Drips (Grief Echoing Through Familiar Spaces)
“I still hear the clatter of forks, not from today, but from a Tuesday three Octobers ago when the soup boiled over and your laughter rose above the steam…” This poem lingers in the stillness of a kitchen that remembers—where every stir, every crack in the tile, and every whisper of cinnamon tells the story…
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Who Do You Spend the Most Time With?
A tender, lyrical meditation on the silent companion we often overlook—ourselves.
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If You Had to Change Your Name, What Would Your New Name Be?
What is a name but a thread through time? If I had to change mine, I would seek not a label— but a mirror reflecting the truest me.
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We Do Not ‘End’. We Become.
In this meditative poem, the soul journeys beyond finality into infinite change — from ashes to oceans, from endings to essence.
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Keep Your Gills to Yourself (A Hilarious Tale of Mouthy Fish and Talkative Humans)
Even a fish wouldn’t get into trouble if it kept its mouth shut— but humans? Oh, we dive right in, mouth first, blabbering our way into awkward parties, accidental confessions, and the unemployment line. A riotous poetic journey through oversharing, silence, and why parrots are smarter than we think.
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The Breath That Moves the Waters
Spirit of God in the clear running water, you move not in thunder alone— but in the hush of rivers, in the rising of trees, in the surrender of all things to something greater than themselves.
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Where the Wind Finds Her
She sits on her balcony—not waiting, not needing— just letting the wind touch her like memory, and rewrite her stillness into peace. The world moves, but for a moment, she simply breathes.
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Let Beauty Persist, Even When the World Burns
When the world collapses under its own weight, let beauty not be the first to go. Let it sing through the smoke, bloom in the ruins, and remind us that grace is not weakness— but resistance.
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To Love and Let Go
To love what can leave. To hold what can die. To let go without flinching— this is how we live, bravely, in a world built on vanishing things.
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Left Turn
At the intersection, I could go right and head home— but turning left would take me into a story that didn’t want to be safe, into a version of me not yet born. I turned left— and everything familiar dissolved into wonder.
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Let Me Be More Than a Name
When you label me, you stop listening. You paste a summary over a novel still being written. Let me be inconvenient and worthy, confusing and holy— more than your comfort zone, more than a name.
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The Price of Waking
Awareness cuts like a blade. It severs comfort, exposes the cage, but grants you the one thing illusion never could— yourself.
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The Song, The Gossip, The Love
A song is never just a song once it finds a wound to echo in. She hummed it through heartbreak, through gossip that carved her into a rumor, through the fire of a love that took more than it gave. This is a poem about remembering, unraveling, and rising again— through melody, myth, and the…
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Edgar Mittelholzer: A Trailblazer’s Triumph and Tragedy
Edgar Mittelholzer, Guyana’s first internationally published novelist, dared to write what others wouldn’t—race, madness, colonial trauma, and the dark corners of the soul. His life ended in flames, but his legacy deserves to burn bright in the minds of readers who seek truth in literature. This is the story of a literary pioneer, both triumphant…
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Precious Stones from You
Your letters are not just ink on paper; they are treasures— gems mined from the depths of your soul, delivered to me with the weight of love, to be cherished like rare stones dug from the golden earth of Burkina Faso.
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Lost (But Not Really): The Beautiful Art of Getting Lost
It took a few seconds to realize I was utterly and completely lost. Not the kind of lost where your GPS glitches, but the kind where reality softens at the edges, and even time hesitates to move. A poem that begins with a lemon and ends with a map inside it—this is a journey through…
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You and Me — A Conversation Between Compassion and Discernment
A lyrical meditation on the delicate balance between compassion and discernment — how the heart and mind walk side by side, not in conflict, but in quiet harmony.
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Where Thoughts Go When You Don’t Feed Them
Not every thought is worth your trust. Many are just echoes of the past—old fears in new clothes. This poetic meditation explores the mind’s craving for tension, its habit of jumping to conclusions, and the quiet liberation that begins when you stop feeding your thoughts and start listening to truth instead.
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Steep and Exposed
When love is a ridgeline and every step a choice, some climb to escape—others descend to return. A poetic journey through risk, memory, and the courage it takes to let go.
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The Ultimatum
“You want me to amputate my past to secure your future. But what kind of love asks for blood?” “If being mine means cutting out the people who watered me through drought, then I choose the rain over your desert.”
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Flow Unrestricted: A Love Letter from the Universe
“You ask me what magic is. I say: magic is when you stop trying to become extraordinary and remember you already are.” Let the universe speak through you. It is a tender, powerful invitation to surrender, listen, and rediscover the quiet magic waiting to rise from within.
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The Biggest Lie
“The biggest lie of my life was not a betrayal of someone else. It was a betrayal of myself.” “I’m not fine. I’m barely here. I forget what joy feels like. I’m holding myself together with old emails and duct tape.”
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You Know What? I Quit.
“I quit because I lost track of who I was doing it for. There was a time I would write with dirt beneath my fingernails… Now I Google ‘trending themes.’” This isn’t surrender. It’s reclamation. I’m not going silent — I’m going sovereign.
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for the Disconnected Self
No funeral marked the moment I lost myself, no eulogy read as I dissolved into scrolls, swipes, pings, alerts— digital rosaries I clutched more tightly than prayer.
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The Friend Who Holds Without Clutching
What do I value most in a friend? Not brilliance, not boldness — but gentleness. The quiet kind, that listens without interrupting, that holds space instead of demanding explanation. This poem is a love letter to those who tend rather than fix, who sit with silence instead of fleeing it. A candle in the storm.…
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What Mamaw Told the Creek
“Don’t cross no river mad,” she’d warn. “It remembers.” In the hush of Tucker’s Ridge, Mamaw held the past like a quilt in her lap—stitched with floods, love gone sideways, and the music of a creek that always knew more than it said.
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The Moon Stayed, But You Didn’t
I looked at the moon. I whispered your name. It stayed. But you… you didn’t. The sky didn’t flinch. But I did. Again and again. This is the anthem of the ones who still set the table for someone who never knocks.
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The Unwritten Résumé: A soul-whisper
I once folded time in the scent of warm bread, a 3 a.m. baker in a town that forgot the moon… Now I’m a collector of all that never made it to résumé paper— a curator of invisible work.
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Do I Practice Religion? (a confessional disarray)
i chew the question slowly— like stale gum with notes of chalk, echoes of old lectures from people who talked at the sky and thought the clouds nodded.
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What Are You Good At?A Confession in Light and Dark
I am good at surviving what no one ever admits they lived through. At carrying hunger that howls in libraries. At becoming myth in my own bloodline— not disappearing, but dissolving, like ink becoming memory in water.
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The All I Carry: A Poetic Meditation on What It Means to ‘Have It All’
What does “having it all” truly mean? In this deeply personal and lyrical reflection, I explore the quiet joys, the redefined ambitions, and the evolving truth of fulfillment. A tender, thoughtful answer to the question we often rush to answer—this is a poem for anyone searching for peace in a world that keeps shifting the…
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Talk to Soon: A Journey Through Voices Unheard
A poetic exploration of voices the soul longs to speak to but often ignores.
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Where the Voice Forgot Its Name
Because names peeled off doorbells like old skin, While the moon grew restless in your tea, Though your shoes never forgave you, Even then, the echo asked for ID. And something—finally—named itself: belonging.
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Inheritance of Oddities: A Catalogue of the Self
A surreal plunge into the soul’s storeroom, Inheritance of Oddities is a journey through the uncanny, the forgotten, and the beloved. Each item speaks—half-memory, half-metaphor—of what we keep and why it matters. This poetic odyssey dissects the mundane into myth, the absurd into relic.
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The Ritual of Awakening
I forgot who I was just long enough to meet myself. we shook hands like enemies pretending to be diplomats for the sake of the children.
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Tomorrow Is a Compass Made of Salt
“Hope is not polite. It barges in with muddy feet and eats all your strawberries.” Life wrestles with doubt, collapse, and resilience in a dialogue that blurs the line between “I” and “You.” The mantra — “The sun will rise tomorrow, and I still have a chance” — becomes a lifeline stitched into surreal metaphors,…
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When Leaders Rewrite History for Applause
When applause becomes louder than facts, memory suffers in silence. This poem navigates a surreal landscape where history is rewritten by the powerful, and truth lingers in forgotten voices. It urges the reader to resist, remember, and reclaim narratives erased for convenience.
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The Museum of Me: My Uncollected Collections
“Do I collect things? No. I collect absences. I collect where the rain didn’t fall. Where the letter wasn’t sent. Where the apology stood naked in the doorway and turned back around.”
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How Do I Feel About Cold Weather? (a love letter in frost and fire)
“I asked you once— ‘Would you kiss me if I were trembling from the cold?’ You answered— ‘Only if you were trembling for me.’” A tender journey through the seasons of love, memory, and vulnerability, where winter isn’t just a backdrop—but a character in the story of us.
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You, The Sensorium: Writing Through the Five Senses
You do not write with your hands. You write with your skin, your tongue, your earlobes. You are not a poet. You are a sensorium— an instrument of perception, rebelling against the sterile blankness with every breath, every taste of thunder, every scent of unfinished dreams.
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The Osteology of the Soul: Have You Ever Broken a Bone?
Not all fractures leave scars on the skin. Some live quietly beneath the surface—in broken dreams, trust fall failures, and spiritual hairline cracks. Let me take you beyond physical pain into the soul’s X-ray—where silence screams, time shatters, and healing limps in metaphor. Have you ever broken a bone… the kind no doctor can fix?
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The Tilted Gospel: A Poetic Dissection of Work-Home Balance
“Balance is not a mindset. It’s a muscle, and mine trembles under the weight of my own expectations.” In this two-part poem, I try to explore the tension and tenderness of modern life. A visceral journey through exhaustion, guilt, presence, and the sacred art of simply trying.
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Cartography of the Hands: in Touch and Memory
“Your palm is a map I’ve never fully traced. Sometimes it’s Africa. Sometimes it’s heartbreak. Always, it’s moving. Always, it’s mine only for a minute.”