[REVIEW] The Distance Between the Heart and the Mind// Eighteen Inches by Mirtha Michelle Castro Marmol//

When you are faced with horrors and injustice of the world, what do you do? Do you stand in front of them, boldly, EYE TO EYE – willing them to back down because you never will? Or do you duck your head and keep walking, hoping that the bright and malicious eye of fate won’t notice?

We are made of flaws. Little, big, and in-between. We are also made of passionwhether we know it or not, acknowledge it or not. The poet does. And that’s what got her into the most dangerous trouble of her life.

A passionate nature knows no bounds. It makes you do erratic things – things that you regret under the bright and practical warmth of the sun. The poet wasn’t immune to such regrets either. She was pained and scarred very early on in her life, surprisingly by people just as passionate as her – the only difference lied in the state of their passionhers sprang from love and hurt, theirs sprang from hate and loathing. That was it. And this little difference rocked her world – and not in a good way either.

All she knew was words and they just don’t cut it in a world based on actions. But they are certainly more than enough when all that’s left to do is to convert the years of self-reflection and suffering into art for the whole world to read and cherish.

Mother said I worried her.
She feared I loved too much.
She said,
It worries me that you’ll always feel the need to be the one who loves more. And there is pain in that type of love.”

Have you ever read something so completely different from your point of view and yet SO “YOU” – both at the same time? Well, that’s how reading Eighteen Inches had me feeling. It was peculiar. I felt strangely vulnerable for some reason. Witnessing the poet baring her heart her very soul and mindlike that to a bunch of strangers made me feel vulnerable, made me feel bold. 

At times I became so engulfed in my sadness that I disappointed myself. I knew better; I was expected to know better. I could do better; I was expected to do better.

Such an intensity of feelings – my god, I have never felt like this before. Reading her little reflections on a lost love, her past trauma, her hurt, her pain it was like she had transferred them to me and I was reliving them all over again. My heart felt heavy with her poignant confessions. It was almost as if I would burst out into tears her share of tearsand then maybe, maybe she would feel better, for I WANT her to feel better. That was the power her writing commanded over me. 

I felt dirty. I felt violated. What I didn’t realise was that it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t do anything to deserve what happened to me. No one deserves to be pinned down and abused.

The journey from seeing herself as a victim as the CAUSE of everything bad that happens to her to a strong woman someone who KNOWS that she is right, she is blameless, and she deserves happiness is always a hard one for a woman. Some go through the most difficult, unfair, and vicious trials while others find themselves pinned down – not by loathsome predators but by judging eyes and scrutinising words. The intensity might be different but it leaves the one on the receiving end feeling insufficient, unprotected, helpless. The poet wasn’t immune to this feeling either. She had to suffer way too much and what’s more? She made herself believe that SHE was at fault. That, somehow, it was HER shame to bear, to hide from the world.

But can you blame her? Because I cannot. I have witnessed way too many people going through a similar dilemmathinking that every little bad thing that happens to them is THEIR fault, that they somehow MADE it happen. THEY invited all the hurt. THEY don’t deserve to have satisfaction of a good relationship because THEY must be lacking in something. 

We are so quick to pin the blame on ourselves, aren’t we? It’s way too easy. Easier than fighting back. Accepting defeat, turning ourselves weak is always easier than gathering up courage to revolt. 

But then, REAL courage is in forgiveness, isn’t it? You get hurt. You are pained. You get justice (sometimes) but you are still haunted by the trauma, by the memories, by the people who gave you those invisible scars – deeper than the physical ones. It’s only by confronting your past and then forgiving it completely – for it made you who you are now: STRONG – that you can be liberated. And the poet has summed this up in her painfully truthful prose. It’s difficult not to first sympathise with her and then applaud her for finally realising that she is invincible – no matter the trials she has faced. She always has been – no matter the temporary hurt. 

When I inhaled you,
it never crossed my mind 
that exhaling you
would be so painful.

Can you FEEL these few lines? Because I can. I can imagine her bursting into silent tears as she wrote this down – lost in “what could have been.” When you are drowning and you find your anchor, you hold on to it tightly, it makes you feel safe, secure. You never want to live without it. But what happens when you are forced to – either due to your own folly or because of cruel circumstances? 

THIS – bursting into tears at random hours, crying yourself to sleep, taking solace in the pain you feel, relishing the memories and then bitter regretting doing so – THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS. And I can feel it, I can feel it ALL in those few lines.

I want to live without the human perception of time.

Can a mortal transcend death without losing themselves in the process? The poet is asking this question and I have no answer. She does, though. Recounting the story of the death of someone who played a major role in her life since childhood up to her teenage years and beyond, she is forcing usmost emotionallyto seek deeper meaning in death.

But can we? Is it even possible to go on living without our loved ones?

I admit even the thought of it brings tears to my eyes. I wonder how much hurt she must have been while baring yet another vulnerable piece of her soul to us. It makes me want to hug everyone I love, let them know that I adore them with all my heart, that they have been a blessing in my life and I cannot even hope to do without them. I just want to hug them and cry and feel the solidity of their living body – knowing that everything is fine and that they will be like this for a long long time. But there is this uneasy feeling in my throat because I know that won’t be the case. And it’s this fragility of human life – this worldly vulnerability that inspires the poet to find the peaceful in her Nana’s death. And I just cannot help but be mesmerised and get emotional about how perfectly she has sculpted these feelings and experiences into the words. I am in love.

I am a collection of stories that I don’t have the power to erase.

Who hasn’t felt this way at some point or other in their lives? I have read and re-read most of the pages in this gorgeously written book and there was always something some feeling, some thought, some implication hidden in between the lines, some realisationthat I could relate to. The beauty of Mirtha’s words is that you can feel them ringing deep inside your heart. I love the way this whole book is structured, written, and expressed.

There is a uniqueness to it that I can’t quite pinpoint and I think I should let it remain that way – this book belongs to you as much as it belong’s to the poet’s heart. 

After having a string of disappointing and hurtful experiencesmost of them that she was left to face alone and quietlythe way she built herself back up again, always bearing in her heart the torch of hope and a brighter and more fulfilled future makes ME feel confident and strong as well! It’s her experience, her willingness to fight back, and her stubbornness to never accept NO for an answer that fills my heart with joy and pride! 

Look at me feeling proud for someone I barely know! But you see, I DO KNOW HER. Anyone who has read her poems, her prose filled with her honest experiences and thoughts can’t help but know – deep within themselves – a part of her soul that she bared, despite it being the most vulnerable of all! 

We develop intimacy with another human being the moment we release fear of judgement and allow space for vulnerability.

Sitting here alone at night, as I record my thoughts, I feel as if I just created a deep connection with someone whom I haven’t even met and maybe never will. It feels mystifying yet completely normal. 

Reading Eighteen Inches is like experiencing different hues of life blended beautifully and yet retaining their originality. No matter how you are feeling right now stuck, unloved, afraid, unhappy, adventurous, mischievous, pitifulthis book is the answer. 

I will go as far as to say that YOU NEED THIS BOOK IN YOUR LIFE. DESPERATELY. IMMEDIATELY.

SO! Are you – my wonderful, wonderful readers – convinced or DO I NEED TO MAKE ANOTHER POST?! Because..I CAN, you know! I CAN TALK ABOUT THIS ONE ALLL DAY!! 😉

TALK TO ME!
Do you like to read poetry?
Your favorite poet? Classic and/or contemporary?
Are you adding Eighteen Inches to your list then?

[REVIEW] The Art of Living + Loving //Here at Dawn by Beau Taplin//

I awoke – a bit sleepy, a bit dreamy. Darkness still enveloped everything – inside and out. But I could hear the birds chirping excitedly. I got up from my bed, put the duvet aside, and went to open the window. Ah, the rush of air filled me just as it filled the room. I felt renewed. Sleep went away. I was filled with a certain energy. I had to get out, out of this room, out of this house. Just go outside and marvel at the soft hours before sunrise; watch the stars rushing back to their heavenly abode.

Everything felt so remarkably new, and yet nostalgic. I have been here before, I thought, picking up a twig – twisting it about my finger. 

The grass felt damp beneath my bare feet. I could feel the droplets compressing under every step I took. There was music all around. In the sky, on the earth, on every branch of every tree. There was still an hour before sunrise and I wanted to soak in every moment of this delicious dawn before light exposed the beauty and the magic disappeared. 

I have often walked alone – in the wee hours of morning – and imagined fairies whispering to each other about how the big folk don’t know how full of magic the world really is! I agree with them. I look at the delicate bud, cusp it in my hand with a gentle stroke lest it falls before ever blooming. So beautiful. The leaves dance with the gentle air, as if mocking me, making sure I know that they revel in this magic every day while I, I am just an occasional visitor. I know. *sigh* I know.

This is what Beau Taplin’s Here at Dawn is all about.

Have you ever taken a walk in the garden at 3 am in the morning? Breathing in the magic that hangs densely about you at that time of the day? If you have then you’ll know; you’ll know EXACTLY what he is talking about.

This whole vast world in which we live our tiny, tiny lives – is brimming with miracles. You just have to be able to look for them. 

Look, there it is – in the chirping of the birds.



And there – in the smile of the little girl dancing in the garden.

And wait, WHAT IS THAT? A squirrel. Look at its tiny hands. Isn’t it adorable? Such magnificent detail. Such craftsmanship.

And the couple over there? So lost in each other’s eyes they’d hardly notice if a bomb exploded by their side. Must be such a heavenly feeling – not caring about anything else in the world other than the person in front of you.

Oh my! Look! A bookshop. Let’s go together and browse for hours and hours, lose ourselves in the countless stories. And never come out. Not so soon anyway.

Surely, surely the ability to enjoy these little things – these seemingly mundane and routine things – must be magic at its supreme? 

When you walk down the road – going to the class, grocery shopping, meeting someone, taking a bite – you pass strangers, people of all backgrounds. They don’t know you. You don’t know them. And yet a single kind smile to someone struggling to shush their crying child is a like the wave of a magic wand. If you think you don’t matter to people around you, then think again. You, dear reader, are full of life, of love, or kindness – YOU MATTER. 

Listen to me, “Here at Dawn”, we don’t take people seriously. We regard them magically.

You are a miracle. A force of nature – gentle, loving, caring. You give to others JUST BY BEING, don’t you understand that? Taplin is asking you to take a look in the mirror and see – take a hard look at the person smiling back at you.

THAT person is nature.
Nature IS that person.
YOU are nature.
So mingle with it.
Take pride in it.
Lose yourself in it – in this feeling of belonging.

Taplin’s words sent a rush of creativity through me. I felt – serene – the kind of feeling that you experience watching a sunrise. Fresh. Renewed. He made me see that the world is just waiting for me to wave the magic wand of my attention. If I could just look closely, listen attentively, close my eyes and feel keenly – it’d be plain as day to me that this whole vast universe is a reflection of me, of my inner feelings.

Here at Dawn, sitting alone with my thoughts and the poet’s, I realized how true happiness arises from deep within, knowing YOU ARE ENOUGH. I read his words and they resonated with me like a chord longing to be struck. Until you realize that everything springs from your own self, you will remain unhappy, forever. And it’s this beautiful realization that made my heart swell and jump for joy.

Taplin’s poems made me feel complete again, as I am sure they will have a same effect on you – for these are little truths wrapped inside a handful of words. The medium may change but the core message? Never. 

Sitting there, with this beautiful book in my hand, I felt a surge of gratitude rise and rise and rise within my whole body and stop – suddenly – in my heart. Why did I feel that way though? It’s just the way Taplin talks about goodbyes – the beauty they contain, the lessons. And their necessity. It’s funny really, how we forget to embrace such an inevitable thing, to cherish those last few memories forever, to make the most of them. Well, no more. Because I cannot help but take his words to heart, lock them within until they make a firm impression on it. Never to forget. Never again.

I have sown flowers
deep into the earth of your memory
to remind me that,
even in the most lightless
of places, beautiful things do grow.

The way this whole book vibrates with gentle notes of hope makes for a beautiful experience. Never a page goes by that doesn’t make you feel glad that you are reading it, that fills you with gratitude that you are here – here in this gorgeous world – alive and free and much too childlike – just as you SHOULD BE. 

When the clouds of uncertainty and bad actions reflect upon your sunny dreams, Taplin, encourages you to take responsibility where it is required. You cannot run from it. You cannot hide from it. He wants you to understand that it’s YOU – you who is cause of it all and by accepting that responsibility, you create yet another miracle – of freedom. Freedom from ignorance, from failure.

Here at Dawn, you will understand the beauty of a helping hand – given or received. As Taplin says, 

We only flourish when we lean on each other.
This is how all great things
are grown.

This collection of poetry reinstated the need of companionship, of friendship – of the importance of surrounding yourself with genuine people and giving thanks to those who accept you without any judgement. I never knew it was possible to pack such – non romantic – thoughts into lovable poetry and yet, the poet has achieved this. And I am glad that he did because it is a delight to read, to own, to cherish.

Taplin’s poems are also wise with experience. They contain a knowledge that can’t be faked. They want you to understand them, understand the meaning in between – and as you’ll do so, you will find yourself liberated from every thought and feeling that has been weighing you down.

As I said before, reading these left my heart overfilling with gratitudefor the ghosts of the past, for the candles of the present, and for the dreams of the future. It’s been such a lovely, lovely experience reading these – one that I emerged wiser from, kinder to myself and the world around.

So come, dear reader, dance with the poet in the rain. And forget all your worries. Lose yourself in the magic all around you. You are beautiful. You are your own. You are the world. 

Let him teach you the art of living and loving and living lovingly.
Rise.
Reborn.
Here – in the arms of the beautiful dawn.

[REVIEW] Love – with all it’s complexities and imperfections, beauty and transcendence //Our Naked Souls by Justin Wetch//

At first it read like broken sentences, not poetry. But as I made my way through, those little fragments started to make sense, started to rhyme in my heart – as a whole. Every single word written in this book is raw with the kind of love that comes with understanding, with maturity.

I fade away without your love
My colors dim and darken
I fall for you more every day
Without a hint of caution.

This gorgeous little book won’t make you swoon and pine over someone out of your reach; it will gladden your heart for the love that you already have, the kind of love that will stand with you, be your support THROUGH THICK AND THIN – no matter what! Reading such a mature and reasonable take on love – with all it’s flaws and complexities – was such a delightful experience.

And yet, with all the practicalities of the worldly love, you can still find – within the lines – the cosmic importance of it, the fact that such a pure emotion intertwines two souls in a bond that transcends time and all other bondage of this three dimensional world a love that makes you whole, while uplifting you, reinventing you in it’s lovely likenessa love that traps you together with a beautiful thread, while allowing you to roam freely wherever you will.

There is an uncomplicated magic to Justin’s words, as he romanticizes the mundanity of life – turned interesting in the presence of a deep love. 

I refuse to believe that something as perfect
As the meeting of our souls
Could have happened
By accident.

You won’t feel exhilarated while reading it. There won’t be any uncomfortable and fuzzy feeling in your heart. What you WILL feel however is gratitude – gratitude for the quiet and understanding love that you share with your lovergratitude for the simplicity of life. Gratitude for the fact that the REAL magic lies in the simplest but the most heartfelt of acts.

This book, as the poet says, will show you the art of transcendence through the simplest acts of love.

Promise me you’ll tell the truth
And not let me fall hard
If you’re not ready to fall with me.

I’ve been waiting for a girl like you.

Wrapped inside these words are also the seeds of such a passion, that when coupled with maturity and understanding, becomes the most beautiful feeling of them all. This passion will not destroy you, it will widen your horizons, deepen your soul!

These beautiful emotions flow so freely and deeply within the poet’s words that they pulsate with a life of their own – with deep sighs. It is so subtle, so very subtle, that it demands you whole attention or else you’ll miss it. And you’ll be sorry! 

These glorious words also vibrate with the impending fear of separation – one that, although can be delayed, cannot be prevented. You will find yourself feeling just a little bit gloomy, as the poet will paint a picture of the world without your lover. How will you cope? Can’t find the words? Let Wetch put them in your mouth, let him sting your heart with this bittersweet realization that all the time in the world, all the memories that you make, will never be enough – never be enough – for you will still feel the pain when you’ll say goodbye, old age will still arrive – taking a piece of your soul with it – wrapping it delicately, to wait until your time comes as well.

You will find yourself in a state of delightful longing – as you’ll make your way through these poems – longing for the sweet and comfortable embrace of your lover. You won’t wanna let go. And anyway, why would you even want to? 

This book is also about carefree journeys “up to the mountains”, with a desire to lose your being into one another – enjoying life’s simple pleasures. Isn’t that the most magical thing of all?

With fresh eyes I looked at living
She effortlessly changed my point of view
Dear god, let me forever keep loving
La fee qui rend tout jamais vu.

It’s about turning the most ordinary things into adventures – something that only love can achieve. Your heart will expand as you’ll read this – you’ll feel a comfortable stream of emotions flowing through it to illuminate your whole body – as naturally and effortlessly as the sun illuminates the sky. You will find yourself lost in the poet’s experiences, for the have been your experiences as well.

This is not about the outlandishness and grandeur of love – this is about a pure feeling that arises when you hold hands together, 

It’s about those beautiful moments that can only be found when you are not looking – in your every day – just lose yourself in the beauty that is life. It’ll teach you to be grateful for someone who understands you, is foolish with you, a bit childish with you. 

It’ll teach you how to look up at the sky – with wonder in your eyes and love in your heart – as you’ll sit on the terrace at night, holding each other’s hands, knowing that the love you bear in the depths of your beings is meant to be. Why else would the stars shine so brightly? Why else would the cosmos invite you to lose yourself in it – just like darkness loses itself into the night? It’s in these wondrous moments that you’ll realize, your own importance against the vastness of the universe – and you’ll know, you’ll know for sure that it’s because of the presence of love deep within your atoms that the world is suddenly such a happy, such a magical place to live in.

You should look at yourself
With the same wonder
With which you look at the stars;
You, my love, are a miracle.

It will also show you pain – the poet’s and your own – it will guide you through the unexpressed emotions welling inside you, eager to burst outand all will feel calm again.

The fear of losing someone you love so deeply is something that every one of us has experienced and it’s this fear that grips the heart of the poet – you will feel it in your bones as you’ll read through the sunny parts and arrive at the gloomy ones.

Addicted
To the idea 
Of love,
We were like seeds
Which sat in the rain
Expecting to grow
But withering away,
Forgetting the value
Of soil and rain.

The hurt that follows a heartbreak is unbearable and yet, through it emerges a renewed soul, a stronger heart and a desire to love again this time a bit more cautiously but a bit more passionately as well. You may lose the person but the memories remain – a warm reminder of the moments you shared; there is no time to lose and so you give live your all – you take a chance despite everything. That’s how you create something beautiful out of nothing, a phoenix rising out of ashes willing you to live again, to burn again – that’s the beauty of love, you are happy in it’s presence, you are wiser as it leaves – no harm done. In the end, it was all a lesson. 

Our Naked Souls is also about taking pride in what you have, what you meant to each other – never losing the sight of what’s important. Love is all about complacency and the poet is here to teach it to you in the most beautifully simple way possible.

Love is remembering what you have” and then reveling in that remembrance, 

It teaches you the art of a steadiness and passion – urging you to not burn out, but rather burn with each other, keeping yourselves aflame, with the feelings that flow in your body – so pure, so alive, so powerful.

So, dear reader, let the words flow through you and settle in your heart. 
Let the poet teach you how to turn your whole life into art.

[MY BOOKISH OBSESSIONS] How-To: Criticize Your Lover Poetically// Shakespeare’s Guide to Tough-Love//

[Note: This guide is only meant for skilled writers. If you are a commoner looking to woo your girl, I’d suggest you check out Mr. Collins’ guide instead.]

Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130 holds a special place in my heart. Mainly because it was my life’s first one. And it wasn’t even by choice. You see I was sitting in the library – avoiding my Political Science lecture (I hated that teacher ugh) – when I decided to bide my time going through the books available there. While mindlessly searching for something I didn’t even want, I came across this cute, little hardcover titled – ”Shakespeare’s Sonnets” I immediately checked it out. And let me tell you IT HAD SOME OF THE MOST GRAPHIC IMAGES I HAD EVER LAID EYES ON! xD

Well, needless to say, I spent the whole period – 40 minutes- reading and re-reading random sonnets. And Sonnet 130 was the one that stood out to me the most.

But it wasn’t until I came across it again the other day that I realized Shakespeare was actually trying to teach us something through it’s medium and I had been blind to it this whole time: *gasps*

THE ART OF TOUGH-LOVE 🖤

This realization was immediately followed by an overwhelming urge to share it with everyone else, so that, FINALLY Shakespeare can rest in peace, knowing that we have grasped the hidden meaning now.

So, without further ado, let’s begin.

Prepare a List

Love is blind – until one day isn’t. There will come a time in your life when the magic will wear off and your girl’s inner Janice will start to show – with her weird hair and annoying laugh.


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You may choose to let those rather unbearable quirks slide at first but after a while, they may become too much to ignore. They almost always do.

In such cases as these, the very first thing you gotta do is MAKE A LIST OF EVERYTHING YOU FIND ANNOYING ABOUT YOUR PARTNER and make it as extensive as you can.

🌸 Dull Eyes? Check.
🌸Reeking Breath? Check.
🌸Pale cheeks? Check.
🌸 Wiry Hair? Check.
🌸 An unappealing Complexion? Check.

Comparisons are CRUCIAL.

As you must know already, the perfect woman must be the very embodiment of mother nature:

Her eyes as bright as the sun,
Her breasts plump and her complexion fair,
Her hair flowing, and her aroma rare.

Ever Man’s Fantasy

She must be delicate like a flower – rosy cheeks and soft to touch. Her voice should have the tenor of a goddess speaking from the heaven itself. 

All of these things should a woman possess and since YOUR lover doesn’t even come CLOSE to these standards, you are going to have to make some comparisons to hint it, in a not so subtle way.


Compose a Love-Poem

Now that you have gathered the basic material, you may find that it seems rather harsh, doesn’t it?

Well, our Shakesy has the perfect solution for your dilemma. You see, if you wanna soften the blow on your rather plain lover, you gotta compile your complaints and comparisons into a well structured love poemaka a sonnet.

Shakespeare was well practiced in the art of writing these sneaky little poemswritten to woo them girls apparently! And so, you MUST take some inspiration from his previous works to write the perfect sonnet. Also pay attention to how he cloaks his criticism with two rather conveniently placed sentences of flattery in the very end of his sonnets.

Now if you do the right amount of research and practice, your complaints should take the following form:

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red, than her lips red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddess go,
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
   And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,
   As any she belied with false compare.

Sonnet 130

Brilliant, isn’t it?

Now all that’s left for you to do is to –

Show it to your Lover.

And then you wait.

Wait for her as she opens the envelope in pure excitement.
Wait for her as her gaze falls on the very first line of the poem.
Wait for her as her eyebrows get furrowed and her eyes turn misty.
Wait for her as her sadness turns into pure rage.
Wait for her as her blood starts to boil and her teeth start to tatter.
Wait for her as she looks at you – not with the emotion you had expected (what DID you expect anyway?) but with rage.

AAANNDDD…

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Yep, there it is. YOUR ULTIMATE REWARD FOR YOUR SEEMINGLY “tough love”

Lesson?

Steer clear of the Shakesy guy, people. He’ll drown your love-boat more ruthlessly than the fucking iceberg that drowned Titanic. *shrugs*

I TOLD YOU! This was his main intention behind writing this sonnet! We were just too dumb to see it. MAN! I love him and his abilities to surprise us DECADES after his death.

But tell me, did you like his tips?
Would you like to refine it by adding some of your own? This is your chance. Share some of your ”tough-love” tips + experiences in the comments so that the rest of can benefit from them as well! 😉

Until Next time,

[MY BOOKISH OBSESSIONS] Quills + Parchments // LOVE LETTERS //

The moment I set my eyes upon it, I was already falling.

With each turned page, I found myself privy to the most intimate thoughts, the purest feelings, the greenest envies. I was in a world devoid of images. My eyesight had no function here. Nor did my hearing. It was all about the heart. About that warm feeling in your gut, that hot churning of something bittersweet. And I kept falling and falling, taking in all of their hopes,
their worries,
their desires. 

I was falling. And they were too.
We were falling in love.

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This little book gave me power over the hearts of all the greatest writers. They bared their feelings to their loved ones on a rough parchment with a drop of ink. They sent it back. And forth. And on and on, not knowing that this exchange was going to get recorded in eternity and some years later, in my mind too.

Their love lives. In between these pages. These pages that I hold close and dear.

But enough about my intoxication with these beautiful words and destruction at the hands of these star-crossed lovers. Why don’t you take a look by yourself and see what fires they carried in the loud beating of their palm-sized hearts?

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John Keats to Fanny Brawne
[Wednesday, 13 October 1819]

My dearest Girl,

This moment I have set myself to copy some verses out fair. I cannot proceed with any degree of content. I must write you a line or two and see if that will assist in dismissing you from my Mind for ever so short a time.
Upon my Soul I can think of nothing else. The time is passed when I had power to advise and warn you against the unpromising morning of my Life. My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you. I am forgetful of everything but seeing you again – my Life seems to stop there – I see no further. You have absorb’d me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving – I should be exquisitely miserable without hope of soon seeing you. I should be afraid to separate myself far from you.
My sweet Fanny, will your heart never change? My love, will it? I have no limit now to my love – Your note came in just here – I cannot be happier away from you. ‘Tis richer than an Argosy of Pearles. Do not threat me even in jest. I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion – I have shudder’d at it. I shudder no more – I could be martyr’d for my Religion – Love is my religion – I could die for that. I could die for you. 
My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet. You have ravish’d me away by a Power I cannot resist; and yet I could resist till I saw you; and ever since I have seen you I have endeavored often ‘to reason against the reasons of my Love.’ I can do that no more – the pain would be too great. My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.

Yours for ever,
John Keats

Can you imagine anything more intimate?

Keats’ hopelessness against the intensity of his emotions empowers his words, electrifies them. I can see him now, with his heart on his sleeve and his throat unable to even whisper, writing awayhis joy and despair mingling with each other. I can taste his impatience with my eyes. I can see his eyes tingling with tears, in remembrance of a sweet face and an even sweeter kiss.

LOVE
My Aesthetic. Reusing it here because..well..WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT?!!

These letters aren’t just pieces of paper with words written on them. They are testaments to their devotion, the humbling of their great minds.

Let’s cherish them, shall we? As much as we can. as long as we can.

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This month, I wanted to share and discuss with you some of my favorite letters from my most prized book, a collection of love letters. It was just an impulse buy for me but I have been doting on this little piece of beauty ever since I read it the first time.

I have read these letters unnumbered times and yet, whenever I go back, I am struck with their elegance. EVERY SINGLE WORD BURNS WITH SUCH PASSIONATE DESIRE AND ADORATION that it was almost cruel to not share them with you. ♥

I hope you come to love them as much as I do.

[AROUND THE BLOGOSPHERE] Top 5 posts I read this week

These are some of the BEST posts I came across this week. A few here are the blogs I recently discovered and my only regret? WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T I KNOW ABOUT THEM BEFORE?? ALL OF THEM ARE SIMPLY AMAZING! And so I thought that it’s unfair to keep them just to myself (as much as I would like to *pouts*).

So here are some of their AWESOME posts which I think you guys should definitely check out.

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THE NERDY LION

6 REASON YOUR BLOG SUCKS AND HOW TO FIX IT

The title is pretty much self-explanatory, right? In this post, the king of the blogoshere himself is going to impart you some knowledge with which you can revive your dying blog and the ones whose ”business’ is BLOOMING, can take their blogs to new heights.

WHO WOULDN’T WANT TO READ THAT?

 

THE ROOKERY

I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS IS

With his amazing artwork and the ability of his words to play tricks on the reader’s mind, the writer behind this blog paints a surreal picture of Insomnia and its effects. I AM TELLING YOU I WAS IN LOVE BY THE TIME I HAD FINISHED READING IT!

YOU HAVE GOT TO READ IT.  YOU’LL REGRET IT IF YOU DON’T.

 

URBAN VYASS

MONOMANIA AND LITERATURE

This is one of the blogs that I discovered this week and I am so glad I did! This post talks about something that we rarely acknowledge, that we romanticise – the harm that an obsession (even as innocent as reading) can do to a mind. The importance of a balanced approach is vital and this post talks about the same with far more eloquence and insistence.

THIS IS THE KIND OF WRITING THAT YOU DEFINITELY SHOULD MAKE A HABIT OF READING, in my humble opinion, of course. 😉

 


BITCHIN’ IN THE KITCHEN

MAMMA MIA 2: THE OBITUARY

I recently came across this pink, fluffy blog and I LOVE IT WITH ALL MY HEART! One of the first posts I read was a review of the new Mamma Mia movie and her writing style was soo engaging that I NEVER WANNA WATCH IT NOW! EVER! xD xD
Really though, she is fun, quick and sarcastic where it counts – the essentials for any good writer. 😉

GO AHEAD AND GIVE HER BLOG A VISIT. YOU’LL LOVE IT! ❤

 

FOR BOOK LOVERS AND RANDOM PEOPLE

FOCUS ON CRIME FICTION

What makes for a good crime fiction?What are the necessary elements without which any story of this genre appears kind of deflated and sloppy? The face behind this blog – stargazer – talks about it all + there are some great recommendations too!

I’d say crime-fiction lovers better check this one out!

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Coming across a well-thought, a well-written blog post is one of the best things and YOU GUYS MADE MY WEEK! ❤ ❤ Thank you soo much for making the effort to write such amazing content. YOU GUYS ARE MOST APPRECIATED.

HAVE A FANTASTIC WEEK. I LOVE YOU ALL! ❤ ❤

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[ON MY BEST BEHAVIOUR] Interviewing the genius minds behind Unbolt, Tati & Tony *cheering in the background*

This is a post that I have been wanting to put up for FAAAAAAAAAAAR TOOOOOOOO long but never got around to actually doing it due to….well…my absolutely UNNECESSARY break!

But now, I want to take this opportunity to share with you, my gorgeous readers, my conversation with Tatiana Aleksina and Tony Single, the heart and mind of my favourite blog ON THE WHOLE INTERNET, UNBOLT.ME 

YOU ARE GOING TO LOOOOVE THEM! Their answers were absolutely hilarious and so well thought that I felt like crying when I got them! They were very enthusiastic about it and I SWEAR TO GOD, I feel so glad that I had the opportunity to interact with them.

Both of them are terrific writers, kind and helpful and SUCH FUN TO TALK TO!

Continue reading “[ON MY BEST BEHAVIOUR] Interviewing the genius minds behind Unbolt, Tati & Tony *cheering in the background*”

Two loves and TWICE THE HATE// 1+3 Poetry REVIEWS//

”There are cages, and then there are your eyes” AND THEN THERE IS THIS BOOK YOU WON’T FORGET NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU TRIED //I Wore My Blackest Hair//

What it’s like to be an outsider in a country? Yes, that’s what underlies each and every word in this book but even if you have not known that feeling, you can still relate to her words. YOU KNOW WHY? Because in some way or another, we are ALL ALIEN TO THIS WORLD, IN THIS WORLD.

We think we are so smart having split the atom and toured the heavens.

We think we KNOW the world now.

We think we know the person staring at us from behind the shiny, reflective surface of self-discovery – MOCKING US, MIMICKING US.

We are delusional.

Continue reading “Two loves and TWICE THE HATE// 1+3 Poetry REVIEWS//”

Best of Allen Ginsberg : His little-known poems

I would never have hoped to survive my teenage years were it not for Ginsberg, Sure, Wordsworth provided comfort and yes, Keats gave me solace but it wasn’t until I read the collection, Wait Till I’m Dead, that I really came to realize what I was looking for. Words that explored the dirty, the dark and the lovely – all at once. A spectacular mixture of love, hate, passion and drugs – his poetry left me high af.

So here are some of my favorites. Fierce. Romantic.Political. Sexual. Scandalous.
(I won’t attempt to analyze them, though. That’ll take a whole lot of space and would feel like I am fangirling! ;p)

 

  • We leave the youthful pennants and the books,
    Discard the little compasses and rulers,
    We openen our eyes and test our souls,
    Prepare ourselves to wield more mighty tools.

    Abandon dusty tales of history,
    Of good King Arthur’s Knights and Kubla Khan,
    We wake, and enter now the world to find
    A living tumult in the struggle of man.

    For these are giant times, and history
    Is fashioned as the minutes burn away.
    Buildings of old beliefs are being bombed
    And rotted walls are crumbling down today.
    Ready are we to meet the challenge hurled:
    ”To battle, conquer, and rebuild the world.”

    (Published in: Senior Mirror (June 1943) )

 

  • Epitaph for a Suicide

    A weary lover
    Once he was,
    Who wept as only
    A lover does.

    Or laughed as only
    A lover must.
    Now his mouth
    Is ringed with dust.

    The credit’s his —
    He was quite brave,
    To shut his loving
    In his grave.

    (Published in: Allen Ginsberg, The Book of Martyrdom and Artifice (2006) )

 

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Allen Ginsberg

  • Winds around the beaches blow:
    Things being as they are, although
    Half clearly understood, and I
    Uncurious of mystery;

    Such thoughts as once were my despair,
    — The frantic sea, the silent air,
    The changing moon, the frigid shore —
    I find delight me more and more.

    I had not dreamed the sea so deep,
    The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
    I have become another child.
    I wake to see the world go wild.

    (Published in: Columbia Review, vol. 27 (February 1947) )

 

  • A Lion met America

    A Lion met America
    On the crossroads in the desert
    Two figures
    Stared at each other.

    America screamed
    The Lion roared
    They leaped desperately
    Knives forks submarines.

    The Lion bit the head off America
    And loped off to the golden hills
    That’s all there is to say
    About America except
    That now she’s
    Lionshit all over the desert.

    (Published in: Beetitude [Beatitude], no. 7 (July 4, 1959)

 

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Allen Ginsberg during his later years

 

  • Leave the Bones Behind

    Leave the bones behind
    they’re only bones
    leave the mind behind
    it’s only thoughts
    leave the man behind
    he cannot live
    Save the soul! But
    Soul is ever Safe
    & Sole
    Itself Beauty’s repesentative
    Lost in accidental form
    that’ll soon be over with
    when its nose falls off
    and its eyes fall out
    and leaves it alone to be itself
    lone in One
    Gold Be.

    (Published in: Take Care of my Ghost, Ghost (June 1977) )

 

 

(NOTE : All the information about publication yearS and magazines were reproduced from Penguin’s Wait Till I’m Dead )