I have a collection of collections. Does that mean I’m a collector? Maybe a hoarder or just sentimental? Waffles is not happy with the books Edie loves the yarn and ribbons Vinny snuggles in the handmade quilts while Chiquita prefers laundry fresh out of the dryer Porcelain cats and handblow glass Children’s art and pictures […]
Loudness, danger, excitement we are drawn like moths to a flame. Unrestrained, gregarious energy drawing us near drawing us out of our solitary shell. We are drawn to that radiant energy that part we don’t possess within. We don’t see it for what it is a lack of depth and emotion their armour to hide ancient
She sits alone in her house waiting for children who never come. Alone by the window peeking through the curtains at the world outside. The world that changed and left her behind. She has no friends, only memories. At night they curl round her as ghosts keep vigil. She waits. Not knowing what she is
Rage blossoms like a flower Like a red rose Blood seeping from my cuts You took everything I had Left me broken and old Hiding away in a dark room Surrounded by fear Lost and alone Death of a thousand cuts Now I bleed red rage and anger. Take heed Be forewarned Revenge will be
I feel myself slipping into a depression. Should I fight it or let myself slide. I do my best writing in a depression Connected to my emotions in that melancholy way I delve deep within find the pieces of poetry that really touch the soul Is it worth the depths of despair? To find
There are times that I am lost, adrift in a sea of emotions that I cannot identify. A small vessel battered by the storm. Tossed by waves of anger and apathy. Feeling helpless and yet feeling nothing. Tossed about like a child’s plaything until I am tossed aside, interest lost. [irp posts=”3950″ name=”Drowning”]
Reading posts on Speak your Truth about living with anxiety has given me the strength to share my own struggle. Not as a means to gain sympathy but in the hopes that someone else will read this and find strength much the same way I found strength from Stephanie Neighbour’s blog. Living with anxiety, agoraphobia,
(if you would like to be featured on Writers Talking contact us) Vachaknavi Sarma also known as Hiya belongs to a very small town called Digboi, in Assam, a North-Eastern state in India. Wild Imagination is her first published book of poetry. Hiya started writing from 2012-2013 when her life took a dangerous U-TURN
Writers Talking with Vachaknavi ‘Hiya’ Sarma @hiyaoxfordgirl Read More »
