cruisey

criticism appreciated

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  • cruisey 1w

    Please do correct me people.

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    Sabab na poochiye

    Yeh mehlo, takhto, taajo k sheher mai,
    Tum Fazl-o-karm ker rukhsat ho jaana
    Ek lamha yuhi raaegaan hone dena

    Yeh yashab waale deewano k sheher mai,
    Tum Do pal k humsafar ban jana anjaan k
    Ek lamha yuhi raaegaan hone dena

    Kuch alfaaz k jawaab vaale sheher mai,
    Tum kuch jumle kehne se hichkichana mat
    Ek lamha yuhi raaegaan hone dena

    Raahguzar ki ankahi kahaniyo k sheher mai,
    Tum ek roz sakoot mai baith sun lena uski
    Ek lamha yuhi raaegaan hone dena

    Dar-ba-dar tanhaayi vaale sheher mai,
    Tum rafeeq ban rafaaqat kerna sikha aana
    Ek lamha yuhi raaegaan hone dena

    Dar-b-dar mistab vaale sheher mai,
    Tum ham-aahangee ka aanand batlaaana
    Ek lamha yuhi raaegaan hone dena

    Jaa-ba-jaa mast-e-mai vaale sheher mai,
    Tum unki iss bekhudi ka sabab na manglena
    Ek lamha yuhi raaegaan hone dena

    Har pal tabdeel hone vaale iss sheher mai,
    Koshish kerna, khud ko tabdeel na honedena
    Ek lamha raaegaan ho, zahmat ho toh hone dena


    ©cruisey

  • cruisey 1w

    #month
    Trees can't bear the fruit of the fruits they bear. ��

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    Letter not found

    Dear December,
    Hope you are in the sunniest of health.
    Are you also like us humans? 
    Do you also hold back things, emotions, gifts, feelings for the later?
    Do you also keep building the nest for future 
    and forget the living part?
    Do you also think of "what will happen if you finished all your cold before your end?
    Do you also hold back the warmth
    just like we don't cash the cheques?

    Dear,
    Hope you make all the somedays to that days.
    Of course. Look at me a little closely. 
    Don't you see some sunny days? 
    Aren't there clouds?
    Do something for me.
    Next time you see a sunny day in me,
    Let go.
    Do something like,
    Unlist an item in the bucket list,
    Say those words,
    Forgive someone,
    Unlock emotions,
    Face failures. 
    You know what I mean.


    ©cruisey

  • cruisey 3w

    Sand castles and Waves
    Silent and Voluble


    When we were young and our parents used to take us to beaches, we were taught to swim or build sand castles.
    I don't know if I was taught or just thought right away that sand and me are a sure thing. I would build sand castles. But the sand castle grew with me. Sometimes it would come down so quickly everyone would wonder with eyes big and googly.
    I remember the waves would hit my castle. They were always so loud. I looked at them as the destroyers. I wonder, if there were no waves, wouldn't everyone build castles all over the place? But would we be able to? With sand never wet?
    Let's say we did build. Each would be different in its own way though similar. Some would have a big kitchen and small storeroom. But wouldn't everyone once in a while check in on everyone? Why did they built it? What was the initial basis? And Everyone would be alike.
    Why is it that some children only swim and some just make sand castles. I don't know how the castles harm the waves. But sometimes it feels more like the waves find joy in bringing down carefully constructed castles.
    But had the waves not been there we wouldn't be able to build sand castles in the first place. And sand does need water, it has to be wet enough to stay, stick together. So I guess it's the law of the universe.
    They're there because of the waves so once in a while every month or week they need to let go, they have to. But as an admirer of sand castles, I ask myself hadn't I relished at letting go? Hadn't I found a feeling, a phase I didn't know I had?
    I found refuge in sand castles. But I can't deny that the sand mountain at my feet had more often than not revealed something to me of me.
    ©cruisey

  • cruisey 3w

    Dear God,
    I come here to ask something. I think there's an algorithm for everything. I wanted to know about this one particular algorithm. If I ask for something I don't give to people, will you give me? If I want people to hear me but I never lend an ear to anyone, will they hear me? If I want peace and in the process of getting to it, I disturb other's peace, will I get peace? And I think I get it, will I be at peace? Will I be, God?
    And god when we are on the receiving end of something and we ain't getting it, do we start giving it? God over the past month I realized I had unconsciously started giving people what I wanted from friends, family and people. Is this how it works? In the process of reaching to receive, I never reached or maybe if I reached, I never received so I stopped there and started giving. I do realize that you can't fathom the amount of ecstasy I get from giving people what I didn't get or I don't have. But when I do that, the aftermath is that I get paralyzed in that moment and I look at that recipient as if as if I'm not quite sure with what feeling. If it's longing for what they got or loving that I was the giver. It's like I wanted my favorite something from a shop but I never got it. So I opened my own shop and started giving that to people. But I can't buy something from myself for myself, can I God?
    ©cruisey

  • cruisey 8w

    The heart speaks in whispers, but sometimes by the time we listen, it's too late.
    ~Kennedy Ryan

  • cruisey 10w

    PS: Sometimes I simply write for fun.

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    #1 Stranger conversation

    Generally I'm a very good doctor with a lot of patients.  
    I guess if I get too many patients, I can be considered bad as well. Anyways, leave that. So you see I was a doctor, 
    meant to heal. But it was becoming too monotonous, 
    I wanted to fall, not particularly in love but in submission. 
    So I decided to call upon this random fella from the internet. Note, it was me who called. His name is Grave Wit. 
    Yes, you're right. Exactly like his name. Eventually 
    He came to my place, where I work. He must have roamed about as if in a museum while I sat with my patient. 
    That's it. Then came his questions. My patient 
    was almost on the verge.

    But you see I had hired a chef. I had to eat codes with her no matter good or bad. Whereas, he was the master of his universe. He ate codes when time permitted & he felt like. 
    So while he was about to start small talk, 
    I secretly left like I was scared. He got angry and must have left after a quick peek. So when I arrived, 
    I was welcomed with a note on my door. 
    It was clear he was baffled. But the science geek he was, the moment I opened the door, the paper shredded to pieces. 
    But you see, I'm a wee bit smart. 
    I explained to him my absence the same way I called him. Happily, he came back. Again, a patient was sitting. 
    The conversation was slow and calculative. This time my patient was way too young. 
    Grave Wit had questions as well as answers both stupid. 
    You know, on the first date, we both had agreed on the fact that everyone is pretending to be a genius when they are all stupid. Yet, when I asked him, "Where do you eat codes?" he replied, "At a restaurant" I got annoyed as hell that very second even my patient left abruptly! 
    Hardly had ever a patient left me. But still with all due respect, I asked Grave Wit to leave at once. 
    Saying I don't have a sense of humor. 
    Or I would like to call you a thief of my humor. 
    Like a lovelorn he was present on two dates. 
    But he wasn't lovestruck enough to come after being rejected. Apparently he left me to sololearn the fact that words do hurt regardless of the relation. 

    Phew, with that I shed my last tear. After a week. 
    Thanks to him though I found sololearning interesting. 
    I'm glad/sad he's no more here.

    ©cruisey

  • cruisey 11w

    Backyard, gardener and Therapist

    I have been growing hope
    in your backyard
    only because
    I know
    you rarely go there
    to tend to them.
    You visit them
    only to admire them
    at their best.
    You pay gardeners
    to give them time.
    Then you watch them
    from your balcony
    purely out of curiosity.
    The curiosity
    that makes you
    book yet another
    appointment
    with your therapist.
    Who makes you
    walk out the door
    and onto the
    stone gravel path.
    Only to have you
    go back to the
    utopian gardener.

    Days pass by.
    Slowly you tell
    your therapist
    about your
    gardener.
    The therapist
    tells you a story.
    A true story of a
    japanese man
    named Akira Miyawaki.
    How he studied plants
    and contributed to the
    development of unperturbed forests.
    He studied the plant species,
    the soil where it's growing,
    the atmosphere round the year.
    Then he smiles at you
    and
    you ask him,
    "Why are you telling me this?"
    He answers,
    "because
    this is probably
    your last visit
    to my place."
    He asks you
    to leave
    that gardener.
    He says,
    "Devote time
    to that plant,
    study it,
    focus on the soil
    and
    most importantly
    the environment i.e.
    the sunlight,
    the rain."
    Suddenly the backyard is clear. 

    ©cruisey

  • cruisey 13w

    #end #momentsc

    Do you know how there are moments when the world moves so slowly you can feel your bones shifting, your mind tumbling? When you think that no matter what happens to you for the rest of your life, you will remember every last detail of that one minute forever?
    - Jodi Picoult

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    Threshold

    Blue walls. Pink curtains. 
    A small dressing room.
    Lady in her forties.
    A bed big enough.
    Man in his forties.
    Soft humming.
    Eyes closing.
    Lady dressing. 
    Man lying. 

    Minute passes. 
    Singing.
    Lyrics right. Beats wrong.
    Shadow of a smile.
    No interrupting. Rather enjoying. 
    /I see him lying as if he has all the worries in the world just not at the moment./
    She peeks. Annoyed.
    "Chop, chop"
    Hurries herself.
    He wakes. 
    Threw me a wink.
    Tucks in shirt. Buckles belt.
    "Ready and waiting"

    A minute later.
    Lights off. Threshold crossed. 
    I press myself against my room's wall.
    Ocean. An iron pressed cloth.
    A moment and a threshold. 
    Same ocean. A creased cloth.
    It was just a moment.
    And just a threshold. 
    But the air changed.
    That. There. 
    Everything happened in a moment.
    Yet. Yet it will stay forever.
    With me.
    /I thought that love would
    last for ever: I was wrong./
    Love is there. In moments.
    Just in small moments.

    ©cruisey

  • cruisey 14w

    #combination #once #wild
    PS: Words in " " belong to Srinithi and Sam respectively.

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    Someone once told me, If a poem doesn’t rhyme, it is still poetry. Because broken crayons don’t lose their colour, their essence and importance. They are still crayons.
    I’ve read Srinithi’s posts, and I find that you can write on something as simple as a word. “How perfect would this be ? If this exists in the real world.”
    I’ve read Sam’s posts, and I find that poetry can be a page full of bottled up emotions. “But i have so much left to say, feelings i want to portray, before i decay.”
    I read a lot of people without being acknowledged.
    I saw someone writing 
    a satire on Miraquill itself. 
    On rabri pao and religion.
    On a table knife.
    On a haircut.
    On usernames.
    Poetry is an assembly in words of thoughts running wild.

    On the other hand, there have been instances where it occurred to me that I was daydreaming because I was reading 
    a thesaurus and dictionary,
    DIY depression den,
    Search history,
    Instagram instances,
    Reeled reality.
    and calling it a write up.
    Anyways, that was me being uneducated.
    Poetry is anything written wholeheartedly.

    ©cruisey

  • cruisey 16w

    Classroom

    Things I thought I would have collected
    at the end of my school:
    Ink scribbled uniforms
    Dirty slam books
    Late night chats
    24/7 podcast speakers
    Curvy love letters
    Multilingual abuses
    Friend's multiple contacts
    Life long friends
    But I didn't.