Hey everyone! I hope you are all doing great and making yourself happy
Today when going through my notes, i found some of the words i wrote some years back I am sharing some of them here, it was when i was heart broken,
today while reading all these, i can still feel the pain, it was just too hard! Back then I didnt like a single thing about my life, resented every moment and like a fish out of water, i was dying to be whole again but Time does heal it all and it did in my case too! Let me know if you too have ever felt this way!
I met a man with face of scars starting from his temples below and above
His scars each marked with the people's name one said to him you were born in vain
I read it all loud and clear another said to him you should die this year
His nose had a scar biggest i had seen it said the name of his father who left him in a dustbin
his eyes were deeper than you can think depth to be I had to look a bit longer to find the scars within
Guess what was held in those eyes agony for the world? hatred for the people? No, a big no
it was the loathing for himself it was the abhorrence for himself!
Who do you think put it in there? in the heart of the young man whom i met somewhere who do you think will make it all good who do you think? will love him if he wouldn't himself
The mirrors say stories in my ears all the times of how each face is scarred with no wounds around!
Why do looks matter so much?? that they make people hate themselves?
and then they hate others and the cycle repeats!
This is a chain worse than corona. Break it when it infects you AND REMEMBER!
"'there's a hope that's waiting for you in the dark You should know you're beautiful just the way you are And you don't have to change a thing, the world could change its heart No scars to your beautiful, we're stars and we're beautiful'" - quoted from a song by Alessia Cara.
Days of depression days of regression days of happiness days of celebration my pen is always there leaving marks of my thoughts over the leaves white as moon Yes, that lovely cold moon looking from above asking stars to glow more to lend me some of their light and then I write in the falling stardust I moan I yell I mumble I dwell and I write sitting on a deserted couch as if it's waiting for a long yearned dream to come true my hands move my fingers dance and my heart sing hymns of love, of joy of death, of war of troy the pair of spectacles settling nervously on my nose sliding down now and then with amusing strokes eyes blinking like stars stunned at the leaked beauty of my heart My soul appear in the form of words waiting to be seen waiting to be read waiting to be loved!
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ I always feel more lively when I write. I know its the same with you!
Try penning this down ! ⭐WRITE A POEM WHERE YOU ACKNOWLEDGE THAT YOU ARE WRITING A POEM⭐ within 24 hours use #wheniwrite
Okay the third part is out!! and it's going to be long... so you guys will enjoy it without too much gaps... Don't forget to write in the comment section the picture of any member of the royal family you would like to see.. ✌
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_^ PART THREE (continuation)
TWO WEEKS AGO
"Never mother not happening"
"Alain dear, you need to settle and I insist you get married to king Eduardo of Spain's daughter, princess Yazmin" said Queen Devanna to her son.
"Or else what?" Alain said sternly." I shall do no such. all for what? you and Quincy's selfish interest "
"ALAIN!!" she said as she stood to her feet.
"Am not finished mother. Yes a wife I must pick but not of royal blood. A maiden from the nearby village here in the kingdom of Navarre. "
"WHAT in heaven's name do you mean by that?? are you out of you mind?? you mean a commoner worth enough to be bought a slave? more slaves you shall have Alain but am talking about a wife here not an unlucky being" Devanna said with disgust.
"Mother!! enough how can you say that..! slaves will I need no more. Countless of them we have! what I need... sorry what I want is a wife from the nearby village here in Navarre" Alain said angrily.
"So my feeble ears heard right" She crept back into her chair.
"ill take my leave right away.. tell Jacques to arrange for me more case files" he kisses his mother's right cheek. "See you.. mother"
A WEEK AGO The trumpets are sound as horses rode by with messengers upon their backs announcing, "A maiden, a maiden for the King will be chosen tomorrow! prepare!! prepare!!"
Curses, assumptions, wailing and muttering filled the air amongst the villagers and young girls as the messengers rode past.
"I knew it. He is as cold-blooded like his father, not once did I have a doubt that this unruly act of using maidens will stop" a villager said.
"it's been three years long.. why now.. why!!" a young maiden with the possible chance of being chosen said with tears already gushing out.
"Curses I lay on you King Alain" cried out a mother. she continued " Oh Lord please let my only daughter escape the fingers of the royal one.
"That idiot of a King, I knew he will definitely follow the steps of his unfaithful father" a man gave account.
"Like father like son" one said "Now I really believe that statement is true".
All these statements filled the village. Fear and anxiety filled the girls. Pain filled the parents on the thought of losing their girl child.. and the possibility that they were soon to die??
MEANWHILE IN THE PALACE.... to be continued
------------*__*-----------*__*---------- Get all the parts at #Cursedoffroyalty By the way.. the picture down below is that of King Alain.. ALL THANKS TO PINTEREST FOR THEIR WONDERFUL IMAGE ✌✌
Okay guys... here is my new story. First time I'm writing a story that deals with Royalty. Hope its interesting. and a brief introduction about it is that it is about a village girl who was bethroted to the King of France. I got inspiration to write this story from Webtoon and a book I read some years back titled "Esmeralda"✌
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ PART ONE
Emerged as King on the demise of his father, not less than two years has he climbed the ladder going by the rules of the ancient past, on no account should a crime commited by a commoner (villagers) be overlooked The commoners were highly discriminated in the kingdom of France but yet equity ! preached the royal kingdom.
King Alain, the son of the former king, had no business with those cold-blooded rules that governed the commoners. he himself was put-off by them. he presided over crimes and matters fairly. But the commoners were ignorant of his kindness they feared he will be worse than his late father, the previous King. because of that, a crime they dared not commit. "All hail the cold-blooded King " were the chants of all those faces which had fake grins.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ It was known by all the people of France that the former king, King Neville was not at all faithful to his wife. maidens from the village were selected on weekly basis. And never has there been a maiden who spends two nights in his abode. A night with him in his chambers, the next night is with your ancestors. Commoners cried out for justice But deaf the Kings' ears were to all those cries.
Presently in the Royal Kingdom of Navarre, for over three years since the demise of King Neville, no maiden has been selected.. until NOW!
THREE WEEKS AGO.... to be continued
--------------------------------- Okay sooo that's just the first part so so sorry if it's too long you dont have to read it if you don't want to.. Get all the parts at #Cursedoffroyalty
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• °°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° Hey My Mirakee, The day I posted the page of my post Mid-night Diary (A SLEEPLESS NIGHT), I had promised myself never to write on Insomania again. But whenever I picked my pen to write something to distract myself from the nefarious silence of mid-night, I always ended up with "Why can't I sleep?" And this thought made me so thoughtful that I came up with this... ~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~ SLEEP: HARDER TO FIND (A Mid-night Alchemy) ~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~~••~ When demons pick at my troubled mind, And the passage of sleep becomes harder to find; I close my eyes, turn out the light, And listen to the music of the night.
First there's the silence, looming and menacing, The audience lies waiting, patiently listening; My heart is racing; it's pounding and deafening, The taste of tension is sour and sickening.
Outside the wind blows a sweet, sad refrain, That plays on repeat again and again; It builds to a crescendo, stormy and wild, Until it blows over and breathes like a child.
The rythm of of the mid-night train is clickety-clack, 'The Moonlight Sonata' for insomaniac; It's a song of love and another heart broken, When so much is said without a single word spoken.
A dripping tap becomes a cacophony, The percussion in my moonlight symphony; Every drip...drip...drop performed in the overture, Is a well-rehearsed line in my sleepless torture.
The hymns of miners lost in the gloom, Are sang by angels as they circle my room; Voices that flicker like light from a flame, Are swallowed by the coal-black from which they came.