And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower Past these horizonsWhere the rays of infinityCradle the wilted ripples of time;Ripples that have traversed lifetimes,Is nocturnal magic –The kind that never sleeps And lends old, comforting dreams to sleepless minds. Artists are we, and reality our Foe from ages-old […]


Hello friends! Random Specific Thoughts is officially back from hiatus and I’m so excited to catch up on posting and reading! Today’s poem on ‘Words’ is part of a blog tour hosted by a dear friend, Kaley Kriesel to celebrate the launch of her official writing blog, Words. As we’re both in awe of words, […]

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

A Novel Dream

(please click here to view this post on the site along with the podcast)

A Novel Dream | Poetry Random Specific Thoughts

You’re something between a dream and a miracle.
― Elizabeth Barrett Browning

In forgotten realms, they reside.
Tales of old,
That bring to life,
Memories of what once was
As life’s fallen autumn leaves,
Show me glorious pasts
Laid in blatant disregard.

For lives that thrived on a compulsive past,
I write a new song of hope
With melodies, that play
On wavelengths of the universe.

The skies bear witness
To a revolution that never was
For dreams that grew old too fast.
We turn back time
To regain the youth of beauty,
We once surrendered and, dare
To dream, a dream anew.

All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.
― Walt Disney

I would like to thank the editor, Dagmara for accepting this poem for publication at Spillwords which can be read here!

Thoughtfully yours

A Christmas Tale ❄️

The true Christmas spirit is putting others’ happiness before our own, and finding you’ve never known such happiness.
Toni Sorenson

Please click here to read more from this series!

The silver glow of Christmas twilight,
Saw the child staggering home,
Into the dark, frosty woods.

Fingers frozen, in she went
To see her brother weeping.
“Santa’s forgotten us”, the little one cried .

Twas a Christmas day
When love discovered its path,
Anchored in hearts, it blossomed into
A home for all

Cold, dark and scared,
Wrapping him in her cloak,
She cradled him till the sobbing ceased.

Image Source: Pinterest

Mother arrived at the twelfth stroke,
With unsold quilts,
And held the frozen ones close.

Her tender love
Warmed their chilled souls.
With grateful hearts,
In wonderland dreams were they lost.

For lack of temporal presents,
They’d been given a celestial mother
A blazing star in their skies .

Mother’s love is infinite.
A child can’t outgrow it and a mother can’t conceal it.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, The Book of Maxims, Poems and Anecdotes

I wrote this poem for the Winter Writing Workshop hosted by Reese @ Blogging with Reese! The prompt was to write a winter poem in less than 125 words. It was inspired by Coco Cola’s 2020 commercial. Watch it below! It’s a lovely commercial!

Thank you so much for reading!



  hours  minutes  seconds




(please click here to view this post on the site along with the podcast)

Reborn | Poetry Random Specific Thoughts

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.
― Emily Dickinson

The sun has set 
On yet another opportunity.
His last rays
Igniting the dying embers
Of hope and faith.

The shadow of this
Certain uncertainty has left
Us all rotting
In a void of non-existent knowledge
In blissful oblivion of what follows.

Misplaced faith and hopeless hope
Drown in 
Their own regrets, for
A past wasted,
The present lost,
And an elusive future.

The sun rises and sets everyday,
Each ray renewing
Hope that once ceased to prevail.

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.
― Pablo Neruda

Previous post:
Nocturnal Luminosity

(Featured image by Artem Sapegin on Unsplash)