if I write a book

If I write a book, it would have a thick spine and leather bound body, with lots of knots and memories caught up in its strings. Its chapters would be long and slow with accompanying water colour illustrations that simply seem to exude vision and beauty as powerfully as possible. The brush strokes would be visible so that you could imagine how the illustrations came into being and maybe try it yourself.

II x D

(ahh I know, that wasn’t very nice. It’s just that I used binary to represent 500 that I decided to go for Roman Numerals for 1000 i.e II x D = 2 x 500) Random Specific Thoughts was started by an impulsive and reckless 15-year old and left dormant for a year before quarantine led […]

For Pip, Thrush and Blue | World Suicide Prevention Day 2021

If you are feeling low, or trampled, unappreciated, or forgotten…and you are reading this, realize it is an illusion…the hope is real…you are valued…and what lies ahead…is brilliance.
― Tom Althouse

For Pip, Thrush and Blue,
This I say,
“To and fro, we moved
Through the clouds of hymns we hummed,
As the world progressed,
Our longing for freedom grew ever stronger.”

I remember days where we vanquished imaginary foes, where Pip once sacrificed his life to save the rest of us from an army of rather savage goblins. Sir Pip was our leader, advisor and messenger. He knew all the shortcuts, how to get to the adults when we didn’t and very often, managed in acquiring free chocolate from no one knows where.

Memories of riding our bikes downhill but being too exhausted to walk uphill come flooding as I traverse the paths that were once volcanoes and rainforests to us.

Nights, when Thrush would sing to us still soothe me on nights lightning, electrifies the earth. It’s one of those memories that are triggered by just one word, one stare, one leaf.

I see Thrush prancing and flying, always beating us at most games but being too good-natured about it, that we would end up sacrificing victory for a song.

I remember the day her brother died and it was we, who sang her to sleep. She never slept that night.

For Pip, Thrush and Blue
In life, did we live
With cares so free and hardly there
Days spent in childish glee
Ended in time, we wrinkled for love.

Blue, if joy ever had a sad day, it would look like you. You exuded so much joy that it was contagious and we’d find ourselves laughing the most random things ever – mailboxes, candy wrappers and paintings; because they felt like you – because they felt Blue to us.

We never knew you were hurting or that your smiles were so infectious and jokes designed to laugh so that none of us would feel the pain you battled everyday or hear those loud and terrifying thoughts that had screamed themselves sore. I remember how the heroes in all your stories were dreamers changing worlds they created because the real world was too harsh.

Photo by Dominika Roseclay on Pexels.com

As I rise above the bench down the street and reminisce my faults, I see what I missed all along – the beauty of loss. Every day we came together was perfect. The sun shone gaily, the wind blew kindly and the grass beneath our feet remained fresh and green.

Pip would go around securing our boundaries, Thrush would sing to the birds for whom she was named, while Blue would make sure there were no flowers that were withering.

I was up there, all along watching and wishing, I could be a part of this gang, so gay they brightened up my days spent in the dark.

Aeons have I watched over
Everyone and everything but,
None that portrayed life in all its glory
Like Pip, Thrush and Blue did.
Pip’s bravery gives me strength as Thrush’s songs
Warm my soul while Blue
Shows me the sun can mask pain too.

I knew this was coming. I’d seen it before the children did. Blue left the world as the beautiful angel he was. I saw Pip cry for the first time that day; the bravest of all warriors broken down at the sight of his comrade who was no longer breathing. Thrush was there, but people say she lost her voice.

For Pip, Thrush and Blue
As I watched death bring you closer
I saw the strength, bravery and kindness
Your little hearts were soaked in.

How wrong were they – I saw Pip and Thrush that night, at the same park they came often. Without Blue, they seemed lost but oh, how she sang! I saw Blue standing nearby, his face contorted in pain and pride bathed in a glow only freedom could provide, but they couldn’t see him and her heartfelt singing reigned the night.

I saw the veil grief covered you in.
Dears – I saw it all
Soaked pillows in the night and broken whispers
Showed me more than you know.

But know Blue is here, his soul finally free.
He lives through you
Every war you win within yourself

And every demon defeated
Is victory for him and every song sung
Is his life’s anthem.

For even in death,
Pip, Thrush and Blue
Remain bound and prisoners of
Love, strength and kindness.

Most nights do I* take up my place in the sky, but even from up here, life just isn’t the same without you three.

Oh Blue, I wish you’d known just how much you mattered to all of us.

Photo by luizclas on Pexels.com

*This story is narrated from the moon’s perspective and so, I refers to the moon.

The biggest lie we fall for is that it doesn’t matter. Your opinion doesn’t matter. Your choices don’t matter. Your influence doesn’t matter. Your existence doesn’t matter. You don’t matter. It is the worst, most destructive lie we ever believe, and in consequence it wreaks extensive damage to more lives than your own.
Don’t fall for that evil lie. Don’t forget that everything about you absolutely does matter.

You matter.
How you feel matters.
What you say, do, and think matters.
It all matters.

― Richelle E. Goodrich, Being Bold: Quotes, Poetry, & Motivations for Every Day of the Year

World Suicide Prevention Day (WSPD) was first launched in 2003 on 10 September by IASP with the endorsement of the World Health Organisation (WHO). The 10th of September each year has been designated as a way of focusing attention on the problems of suicide worldwide.

Our renewed message is one of hope; that aims to empower people with confidence to engage with this complex subject.

An ambitious task now lies ahead. Through this theme we aim to work together, through our membership and beyond, to create a movement of preventative action, with sustained messaging to drive behaviour change and ultimately, prevent more suicides.

‘Creating Hope Through Action’ is a reminder that there is an alternative to suicide and aims to inspire confidence and light in all of us; that our actions, no matter how big or small, may provide hope to those who are struggling. Preventing suicide is often possible and you are a key player in its prevention. Through action, you can make a difference to someone in their darkest moments – as a member of society, as a child, as a parent, as a friend, as a colleague or as a neighbour. We can all play a role in supporting those experiencing a suicidal crisis or those bereaved by suicide.

Source: International Association for Suicide Prevention

Thoughtfully yours,

Dear Mr. Pink Monk,

hello hello hello!

Hello everyone! Mr. Pink Monk here, from a room drenched in the day’s first rays, to share with you all a wonderfully pleasant surprise I had today – a letter! An actual handwritten letter from none other than my new friend – Waffle Pecan! He’s also a part of Build A Bears Furever, the best stuffie blog there is! I can’t wait to read what he’s got to say!

Dear Mr. Pink Monk,

Hello! I hope you are doing well. I believe we arrived at our respective owner’s houses around the same time, so I thought it might be fun to be pen pals! 

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Waffle Pecan. I live with my parents, and my younger brother Theo. I love him dearly, but he can be a bother. I love baking, talking to friends, and teaching others. Tell me a bit about yourself!

I’m going to tell you some about my day. Firstly, I had some errands to run, so I drove to the store. Er, well, my mom drove to the store. I’m only 10! It was fun to pretend to drive though.

We went to the bookstore first. I found this fun Disney themed book that I’m excited about, though I haven’t started to read it yet. Reading is a fun hobby, don’t you think?

Here’s my favorite part – grocery shopping! I love perusing the aisles of fresh produce and meats. Like I mentioned earlier, I like cooking. Along with that I have a love of food. Yummy! Okay, now I’m hungry! Tonight I’m going to cook a ham casserole. Delish. Do you like to cook? I bet you like banana bread.

My least favorite part of shopping, wearing masks. They aren’t very fun to wear. But oh well, I suppose this is our reality for a while.

Whew, after shopping Mom treated me to a drink from Sonic!

Look at how big the drink is compared to me! It was huge. I loved every sip though.

Now that I’ve told you a little about me, I’m so excited to learn about you! So tell me Mr. Pink Monk, what makes you you?

Your friend,
Waffle Pecan

Click here to read my response to Waffle’s lovely letter!

D here; this was a collaboration with Diamond @ Build A Bears Furever who recently celebrated her fourth blogiversary! I was so glad when my stuffie friend (Pink Monk) received a letter from her stuffie, Waffle!
She’s an amazing friend and artist who has a wonderful, homely blog where she chronicles the lives of her bears along with writing fascinating features like photostories and superhero stories!

Source: Build A Bears Furever
Hehe, I drew her a unicorn!

And just popping in real quick to let you all know that Maggie (@maggie’s doodles) celebrated her birthday yesterday! She’s one of my closest friends here and a few of us got together to plan a doodle-y surprise for her where we each drew her a doodle of our own, which Evin very kindly compiled into a post here! Make sure you head over here to wish her a very happy birthday!

Thoughtfully yours,
Introverted Thoughts aka D and Mr. Pink Monk

“What dreams do you dream?” ft. Huckleberry

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.”
― Anatole France

( D here! This is a Q&A with a very special guest hosted by yet another new face, someone I absolutely love and trust! Kudos to Evin for suggesting this idea! Today, my pet dog, Willy is going to be interviewing Anna’s pet kitty, Huckleberry! Similar pet collaborations are on the way; keep an eye out on Diamond’s, Lizzie’s, Shanessa’s and Evin’s blogs to meet all of our trusty four-legged friends!

Without further ado, I’m going to retreat to my place as a translator for all the doggy and kitty talk!)

(All photos of Huckleberry were kindly provided by his human, Anna!)


Huckleberry!! I’m so excited to meet you! Did you know that I love cats? Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself and your person?

Ayyyy Willy! Nice to meat you! (Definitely didn’t spell it like that on purpose) Wait, you LIKE cats? Well that’s good, although I can’t say I particularly like dogs…. I’ve been scared by them too many times!

But purrhaps if you don’t get too close, I will like you just fine!  Umm a little bit about myself? Hmm.. well, I am 1 year and 2 months old, and I am a super adorable orange and white cat… In my spare time I love to bite my person, and jump at her and cling to her legs and make her scream😼 I also love to go crazy around the house chasing hairbands and random items.

My human is kinda boring…. She won’t let me be on the counters or chew on things, she makes me stay outside when I’m hyper, and she doesn’t give me enough treats….. That’s pretty much all I know about her.

Hehe, I’m older than you are! What do you do in a typical day? Do cats really sleep 12-16 hours per day?

Well, first thing in the morning, I’ll wake everyone in the house by meowing at the top of my lungs, trying to get someone to let me out of my human’s room…. Then once someone lets me out, I’ll whine until someone feeds me.😼

Then one of my human’s parents will toss me outside and I’ll go chase birds and squirrels for an hour or so. After that, I’ll go to sleep for awhile, and in between naps I’ll tease my human’s other cat (her name is Peeka, and she’s OLD)……erm, well….I guess you’re right about the fact that cats sleep for that long during the day👀 Except my human wakes me up a lot, so sometimes I get less.

That’s still a lot of sleep. I’m curious, what dreams do you dream?

Oh, I dream lots of dreams…. Most of them involve me chasing mice or squirrels up skyscrapers in big cities, although I often have horrible nightmares of ENORMOUS dogs chasing me up trees… And then the dogs climb up the trees with me, even though in the real world, they can’t do that!  Those dreams scare me so much that I’ll get up and snuggle next to my human so that she’ll keep me safe.

What’s your favourite outdoor activity? I do love a good adventure in my backyard! You’d be amazed at how many creatures stop by there on an average day!

Ooooh, I’d have to say my favourite outdoor activity is stalking the birds by our front porch…. That and rolling around in the dirt, making all my white fur look brown. 😼

What do you do when your human doesn’t understand what you’re trying to say? This happens to me all the time; the elder humans at home come to my rescue when my human can’t sense anything through her human eyes.

I usually meow and whine very loudly when she doesn’t understand me….. it doesn’t really help her to understand me, but at least I can express my frustration.

Do you wish you and your human had telepathy? I do.

Definitely! That would make my life so much easier!

Ooh, have you ever travelled in a car? My family takes me for all the long trips and I get to sleep the whole way and it’s a bonus to get pampered for consecutive days! Now, why would I complain!

The only times I’ve ever been in the car is to see the vet, and so being in the car is a living nightmare to me….. I usually complain very loudly, hoping that they’ll change their minds and not take me to the vet, but it never works….

If you could speak the humans’ language, what’s the first thing you’d say?

I would probably say “Don’t touch me!” When my human’s sister tries to pick me up, orrrr “Let me out!!!” When nobody will let me out of my human’s room.

Who is/are your best friend(s)? I love everyone in my family! The cats are a bit weird (no offense) but they’re mildly interesting to watch!

My best friend is my human, and my human’s mother…. I don’t like the other cat (that’s ancient) very much…. She’s mean to me.

If the human world’s leaders decide to set up a Cat Parliament, what would you want to be? Any laws you’d want to introduce? I’d want to open schools with dog instructors (with free snacks and toys!)!

I would want to introduce a law that all cats should be provided with an unlimited supply of catnip and tuna….. That would make our lives so much more enjoyable😼

Finally, what’s your life’s motto? What inspires you to do your best when you can’t find a cozy enough place to sleep?

My life’s motto is…. “You can never get too much sleep,” What inspires me to do my best when I can’t find a cosy enough place to sleep? Food😼

“Cats are a mysterious kind of folk.”
― Sir Walter Scott

Click here to read my answers to Huckleberry’s questions!

Thank you so much for answering my questions, Huckleberry!!
Since you’re here, why don’t you meet my friends from the blogospere too?

Meet Rocket!

Source: Diamond

Ava says hi!

Source: Shanessa

Aw..say hello to little Oreo!

Source: Evin

And that was all! I loved getting to share a bite about all of us with you all! Got any four-legged friends I could befriend? Let me know!


Thoughtfully yours,

Back to School

Back to School | Creative non-fiction Random Specific Thoughts

“how sad and bad and mad it was – but then, how it was sweet”
― Robert Browning

March 1, 2021

It’s a little past 10 in the evening, when my phone’s notification tone sends a ripple of anticipation through my heart and soul. Well aware of what it’s for, I check just to convince myself of how real all of this is. Students have to report at 10 am tomorrow to collect their end-of-term results and new textbooks along with their parents, so the teachers can discuss grade 12 options.

Last year this time, I was a carefree 16 year old, thrilled at the idea of a summer break that I knew would span months. It’s barely been a year but the thought of meeting teachers and peers after a whole academic year of virtual and invisible contact founded on trust that the student was there a screen away, is terrifying.

Photo by olia danilevich on Pexels.com

“There is no greater sorrow
Than to recall a happy time
When miserable.”
― Dante Alighieri

March 2, 2021

Thanks to COVID, the mask makes it almost impossible to smile, what could have been a quick and polite substitute for actual conversation, is now masked. I practice scrunching my face at weird angles so that my eyes appear like slits offering a mere semblance of a smile.

I dread imagining how my voice will carry through the mask. It doesn’t help I sound like a frog with a clogged windpipe on a normal day, the mask is going to make even that hideous voice, sound like a muffled grumble. Days and months of conveying my questions and feelings through emojis and GIFs have taken their toll on me; my voice sounds perfectly detached from life, a mere medium for human talk prompted by an unfeeling mind. I so loved having emojis smile for me when I couldn’t, having GIFs emulate my exact reactions to my friends at our kiddy jokes and recklessly curious doubts.

As the pandemic stretched on, I found myself using more of these, even though I hated the yellow of the face emojis with a passion like never before. The smiley one ended up synonymous with ‘Thank you‘, the thinking one for ‘I have no idea. You?” and the star was the standard response to teachers notifying us of new tests, ‘That’s brilliant! The tests are going to be enlightening.

Photo by Dziana Hasanbekava on Pexels.com

As we approach 10 am on my clock, we’re just pulling into the school’s parking lot. When you start school for the first time ever, you get all these beautifully illustrated books with crisp pages and hardbound spines abound with colours and kindness; books that feel like they belong in a child’s hand.

The illusion deteriorates as you grow older and by the time you somehow end up in grade 12, the books are merely huge chunks of text and diagrams, hastily compiled pages with delicate covers that showcase artistic ink leaks all over the place. As much as I’m grateful for an education, these books instil in me a fear like no other.

The school’s ever so silent; no children roam these hallways now, the staff is done for the day and the classrooms have all been abandoned; the huge locks serve as evidence of the year that was stolen from us. There’s no one outside, save a man in the park; a park that has seen days when the park itself wasn’t visible owing to a huge outflow of toddlers excited and keen to try everything in there.

I see one of my teachers seated at the Reception and the feeling of nonchalance that passes through the both of us, stings my very being. Our masks give us a cold demeanour because her eyes are magnified with glasses and mine glassy with a lack of sleep. It’s hard to believe she’s still the same teacher who taught us Maths and made it seem like the most cordial subject ever. Many may have been disinterested in the subject but she was the one teacher any of us would have turned to for help, without hesitation.

We exchange pleasantries and move because everyone appears to be moving guided by an invisible hand; lost in their own worlds of expectations and dreams that just won’t be happening today. Because, for the first time ever, it’s not the students who are confused; the parents and teachers are just as lost as we are.

“We are homesick most for the places we have never known.”
― Carson McCullers

I see my classmates in person, for the first time. They’re almost like I remember them from before, but there’s a pall of indifference over all of them. Our parents speak for us, while we sit motionless taking in every tiny detail of the classroom, we never got to call home. The way the corkboard has articles and projects from 2019 etches into our hearts yet another reminder of the school year that existed, but we didn’t live through. There are 20 chairs in the room and with 10 students, the classroom seems strangely out of place in itself, its shelves and boards pleading for a child’s touch.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

No one really talks other than the usual ‘How are you?’ and ‘See you later’. We’ve all grown so conditioned to online talk, it seems like everyone’s been caught off guard, by having to talk to actual humans. No one’s voice carries through the mask, the way they expect it to, and everything is repeated twice and thrice. After a few minutes or so of grumbled speech and awkward glances, because we didn’t have emojis to convey our pretend moods, we leave only to return the next day for an actual class.

“Grown up, and that is a terribly hard thing to do. It is much easier to skip it and go from one childhood to another.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald

March 28, 2021

It’s not too different now but it’s better. We’ve grown used to the masks on our faces so much that they feel like they’re a part of us. With just 10 students, we’ve accepted the other for friends because this is our last year of school and there’s no time to get selective about friends or teachers.

We’ve gotten to know our teachers a bit more, that they don’t seem like strangers anymore. Smiling is still a masked procedure but all of us have mastered the act of bulging out our cheeks and scrunching our eyes, that our faces appear childishly happy.

When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

Photo by Jess Vide on Pexels.com

Realising that the world is just another school and acknowledging my need to remain a life long student, I doubt I’ll ever miss school because every remaining day of my life is going to be just another version of all the ‘Back To School‘s I’ve had the privilege of living through.

It feels good to be given homework, scolded for our bad performances on tests and questioned frequently about our lives, and treated like young children. Because, when this is all over and we’re thrust into college and the world; it’s not school that we’ll miss the most but this precious feeling of being considered a child and the teachers’ kind mercy in seeing the child in us even when we desperately try to appear like grown ups.

“The past is a candle at great distance: too close to let you quit, too far to comfort you.”
― Amy Bloom, Away

Thoughtfully yours,
Introverted Thoughts aka D

The above is based off on what’s been happening recently; I suppose it counts as a ‘life update’ in a way. A lot of it was inspired by my diary entries from the mentioned days. School really feels weird now; in just a year of online classes, it truly feels like all of us lost something that made us seem more human. I hope you enjoyed reading this little write-up! A quick shout-out and huge thank you to Anna and Diamond for reading beforehand!

Peer Pressure

Thank you so much for tagging me, asic! She has a wonderfully diverse blog where she talks about her current obsessions, interests, favourites and more. Check it out here!

(I was tagged for this tag in the beginning of February. Sorry, asic!)


➼Link back to the creator {Random Thoughts of My Fandoms}
➼Provide a link to the person who tagged you {asic}
➼Answer all questions honestly.
➼Come up with 5 questions of your own. (4 have to be about peer pressure; 1 can be random and about whatever)
➼Tag at least 10 people and provide links to their blog, please no “you!”
➼Recommend at least 5 books or songs you see everywhere/are very popular that you’ve read or listened to.
➼Use the hashtag #peer pressure tag for easier visibility

Wow, looks like I’m going to be breaking a few rules for the first time (Sorry, Zoë!)

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Moving onto the questions!

1. Have you ever been pressured to do something that ended up having a positive effect?

I haven’t technically been pressured to do anything but I have been persuaded to go to certain gatherings and meet people. Most end up catastrophic but yes, some end up with positive outcomes, not a positive effect. I like it when the people I’m around ask me questions other than ‘How is school?’ or say “I haven’t seen you in so long! Remember me?‘ An event where that doesn’t happen is a very positive day.

2. How do you combat pressure?

I think it depends on the type of pressure and I owe all my treasure trove of pressure to school. So, I either complete the school work that’s weighing me down or if I have time to spare, I write, read, draw or listen to music.

3. If your friend was being pressured into something, how would you help them?

This is such a vague question. It depends on what they are being pressured into and by whom? Considering the present, I don’t have a lot of friends and the few I have are very easy going people and don’t seem to be under pressure. The only pressure that’s weighing us down is school, and that is something most students live with and have their own way of dealing with. If the friend in question was having a hard time learning a new concept or something, I would help them understand it.

4. Now, how do you think a person should combat pressure?

Again, I really think it depends on the person. Some find talking very liberating and it’s their way of easing pressure off their lives. Others like taking a break from life and spending a whole day indulged in hobbies and me time. And yet others find comfort in certain forms of art like singing or writing. I think all forms are good as long as they don’t harm the person and those around them.

5. If you could change one choice you made from being pressured into something, what would it be?

Haha, in most cases, it’s me who’s pressuring myself. The last choice I pressured myself into was sending a poem (a terrible one, but I secretly like it now because it has a fun memory attached to it) to a literary journal. I don’t know why I did it, I was feeling very reckless and it was 1 am. I posted it here when the same recklessness graced me with its presence! (The journal rejected it, obviously)

6. What do you think is the worst type of pressure a person could face? Any type of pressure qualifies!

The pressure to meet expectations. I’m not saying it’s completely bad but it seems to be more powerful in hurting people than other types of pressure.

7. Have you ever felt pressure while blogging?

Haha, no! I was writing before I started blogging, so I don’t feel too pressured to sit down or have no need to force myself to write something for this blog alone. I have never done that and hope I don’t, because that kills what writing means to me. Scheduling posts help too. Now that I’m in grade 12, I don’t spend as much time on my blog as I used to and scheduling posts helps Random Specific Thoughts stay active and on schedule.

But a long hiatus is on it’s way sadly.

Photo by Ena Marinkovic on Pexels.com

8. This is kind of an open-ended question- do you think peer pressure is good or bad?

Both. It’s bad when people start hating themselves because they’re different from their peers. It’s good when it makes a person competitive (in a good way) and motivates them to work harder. I’ve been on both ends and I feel like one makes up for the other.

9. Song and book recommendations:

The Hate You Give | Angie ThomasBefore You Go // Lewis Capaldi
To Kill A Mockingbird | Harper LeeFalling // Harry Styles
Wonder | R.J PalacioHolding On // The Lumineers
A Wrinkle in Time | Madeline L’engleAfterglow // Ed Sheeran
Alice in Wonderland | Lewis CarrollWelcome to Wonderland // Anson Seabra
The Harry Potter series | J.K RowlingThe Circle Game // Joni Mitchell
Wuthering Heights | Emily Brontëexile // Taylor Swift
Becoming | Michelle ObamaOne More Light // Linkin Park

10. (Random Question)
Will you think about tagging me for another tag(say yes for brownie points!)?
Also, what do you think about pineapple on pizza?

(I believe I already have!)
I haven’t tried it. I’m not very fond of food and usually refrain from trying out new food combinations. I’m sorry but I think pineapple on pizza sounds wrong.

I tag:

Moi Ana
Please feel free to do this tag if you find it interesting!
I’m passing on the same questions from asic’s post!

Thoughtfully yours,
Introverted Thoughts aka D

One Poem Coming Right Up!

Once, poets were magicians. Poets were strong, stronger than warriors or kings — stronger than old hapless gods. And they will be strong once again.
― Greg Bear

I started writing poetry around the end of 2017. At first, they were really long and told a story and were very personal. To me, it was merely a way to keep my diary updated. So, my initial poems were intended as quick diary entries. I also started with dark poetry, a few of which I had on my blog (I took them down last year) because, they weren’t very positive reads.

Poetry became a more serious undertaking in the summer of 2020, a few months after quarantine was imposed on us. I started writing poems daily on a poetry app where I met and learnt from so many amazing poets! But it wasn’t a healthy platform and I left over 2 months later. But I had met some exceptional poets, learnt so much and I had also developed a distinct-ish style of my own.

A poet should be so crafty with words that he is envied even for his pains.
― Criss Jami, Killosophy

Moving over to my “process”, I write poems for two reasons:
(1) When I’m feeling something very strongly. These are my favourite times, because the poem writes itself. They’re not great but writing them down is mentally rewarding.
(2) When I just feel like writing something, such periods usually produce prose or poetry.

I mostly sit outside to write but if it’s like 2am or something, I jot it down somewhere. I usually just start with a line like ‘...and dare to dream a dream anew and then work around it or towards it. I usually don’t have to think long to get a line, they pop up in the oddest of hours.

Once I write, say a 200 word poem, I then proceed to check if it makes sense together, edit the grammar, sometimes exchange words with synonyms and finally give it a poetic form (if possible). I also try to make sure there’s some sort of takeaway from my poem, and it’s not just a meaningless read.

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
― Robert Frost

Once all the technicalities of writing are taken care of, I try to judge the imagery in my poem (if any), comparisons and finally make a note of the transition between moods and make necessary edits. Once I’m convinced there’s a theme, a takeaway, (hopefully) zero grammatical errors and presentable language, I move on.

Once I’m done with the writing part, I do the interpretation part. I evaluate the initial mood with which I started, the change in tone, towards the end, the metaphors(if any) and how it could come across.

And then I keep it aside, and continue to edit it everyday. If I’m very unsure of it, I ask Srisha, Maggie or Diamond for their thoughts on it and make necessary edits. They’ve been such supportive friends!
I usually take about less than an hour to write a poem, but they go through at least a week of editing before I post it here.

I’m still inclined towards dark poetry but choose not to publish them here, because I personally wouldn’t prefer them being shared. But I enjoy reading and writing dark poetry, in general, all the same.

For a better reason, I quote Joanna @ naturetails, a kind friend and an incredible blogger who writes educational posts,

…you should always write not for the shallow effect but for a positive, spirit-lifting, heart-touching one because you never know who is reading it. And this is the responsibility of the good writer.

Photo by Florencia Viadana on Unsplash

This post was written in response to Joana @ Gigantic Thought Bubble’s question,
“I don’t know if you’ve written one before, but I wanna know how you write your poetry? Is there a process? 😊
Thank you so very much, Joana!! I hope this answered it!

Even though my poems aren’t professional or necessarily poetic, what little beauty they possess, I owe to each and every writer whose works or books I’ve read. How I use my words and what I choose to convey are factors that I control but their ultimate execution and presentation are all products of reading and the valuable lessons I’ve learned from every piece.

To conclude my take on how I write Poetry, I would like to thank each and every writer here! The list would be too long to mention, but every poem or write-up I read is always a wonderful experience and I’ve learnt so much from every single person’s distinct writing style. From the poetic terminologies to plain, rich imagination, this precious community has it all and I’m so grateful to be a part of it.

Resist much, obey little.
― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

Thoughtfully yours,
-Introverted Thoughts aka D


I’m not sure if you understood the title. It must look pretty ridiculous at first glance. It isn’t a random assortment of numbers. This is actually how 500 is written in the binary system. A combination of ones and zeroes that hold so much meaning and value. The actual number is 111110100, the 0b before […]