Left with her wings

I have this little angel. For me she left her wings.
She has no idea how much happiness she truly brings.
She brightens up my days with her smiles and her laughs.
She helps me to remember all the blessings that I have.

Her face, it is so perfect, she’s sweet and soft and pure.
Sometimes she can be willful and sometimes she is demure.
She tries her very hardest to please and do what’s right.
She gives the greatest hugs from morning until night.

Every person that has known her sees this light within her soul
I know that in this whole great world, she has a special role.
She’s helpful and considerate to everyone she knows
This light in her shines brighter as my angel grows.

When she sees someone is sad, it opens up her heart.
She wants to do all that she can; she wants to do her part.
She’ll squeeze away the sorrow and make me forget about my pain.
She shows me where the sun is when we’re hiding from the rain.

I know that God must love me, He showed me with His Grace
I knew just how completely when I saw my angel’s face.
And in that very moment when she came into my world,
I knew that she was so much more than just my baby girl.

She would be my sunshine, with a sweetness that won’t end.
And when she grows up one day she would be my closest friend.
She would be the reason I would always try my best.
For my little angel baby girl would be my greatest test.

When God entrusts to you an angel, who has left her wings for you.
Encircle her with love with everything you do.
Let her know God made her, and that He trusts you with her care.
Be sure to make time for special moments with her to share.

And when at night she finally says her prayers and goes to sleep
I Thank Him for my angel, and ask for him to always keep
A watchful eye and hand to protect her from this world.
Protect my little angel;
Protect my baby girl.

© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source-www.googleimages.com

Hope’s Gleam

The flower that is given little light tastes not enough of joy and cannot thrive,
then fades away like dusk into the night.

The soul who struggles just to stay alive much like the flower wilting in the dark,
tastes not enough of joy and cannot thrive.

How can a fire be lit if there’s no spark?
Without hope’s gleam, the soul will waste away,
much like the flower wilting in the dark.

This is the plight of one whose world is grey:
Though others say a paradise exists –
without hopes gleam, the soul will waste away.

A man upon this earth who tastes no bliss is like a soul brought low who droops his head,
though others say a paradise exists.

How sad that someone rather would be dead!
The flower that is given little light is like a soul brought low who droops his head,
then fades away like dusk into the night.

Winking to the soul dream of dreams ,
Together we can build a future palace one without fear and pain
Destiny will be eternities,shooting arrow.

Do you hear still the melody
to the most beautiful song playing
Warmly exploring deeply touching tunes
Covering the bed with rose petals

Music plays a heartfelt chant sighs,
I miss you dearest flower forever more,
just like the desert misses rain
Whispers held on a cloud of breath beautiful.

© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source-@Bijoy singha photography

Writers are Paranoid

writers

Pre-Script:

We, writers, may be well known and respected for portraying our thoughts in words but there are few secrets that every writer keeps to himself. Now, I may be exaggerating but these are my worst fears and to be honest each of it is a byproduct of paranoia.

Writers are Paranoid

From the moment we pick up our pens,
till we start with the first letter on the page,
we are afraid.
Afraid about starting the thought our
mind has instigated & what will be the best way to begin?

From the first chapter’s completion,
till the transition of next, we are afraid.
Afraid that if we fail to write again
and live in our real world,
we’ll get exiled from the world we created.

From the introduction of the protagonist,
till the elevation of events, we are afraid.
Afraid that our imaginary friends may leave
us high & dry in the middle and
our story would never proceed.

From the triumph and the climax,
till the final verdict of the book, we are afraid.
Afraid about any plot holes we may have
left in our world.
The story we invested everything in.

From the forming of another plot,
till the publishing of current,
we are afraid,
Afraid if we can even live long enough
to tell the world our stories by our pen.

I agree we are paranoid,
but we’re the fuel.
We’re the ones who remember,
the tellers of truth & tales.
We’re the thinkers and the ones
who never give up even after rejections.

It’s because we know our worth.
It’s because we know we’re writers.


©The Honest Fabler
©Handwriting credits – @theartisticmess

Post-Script:

The past few weeks were buried under academics and extra-curricular activities. I almost forgot the feel of blogging, but it’s really great to be back♥ Wish you guys a great week ahead!

Magical Embrace

As the seconds pass…
We look back…
Of what our lives have held…
As the minutes pass…
We see what fell through the cracks…
Parts of our lives we withheld…
As the hours pass…
We think of what we learned…
What we have taught…
What we have forgot…
As the days pass…
We wish a lot could be returned…
We wish we would of never fought…
You hope they forget-me not…
As years pass…
You stand alone…
They have all grown…
Married and gone…
Or on their own…
As your life passes…
You stand proud…
Looking how well they raise their own…
You did well…
Live on…

If at times you feel you want to cry.
And life seems such a trial.
Above the clouds there’s a bright blue sky
So make your tears a smile.

As you travel on life’s way
With its many ups and downs
Remember it’s quite true to say
One smile is worth a dozen frowns.

Among the worlds expensive things
A smile is very cheap
And when you give a smile away,
You get one back to keep.

Happiness comes at times to all
But sadness comes unbidden
And sometimes a few tears must fall
Among the laughter hidden.

So when friends have sadness on their face
And troubles round them piled
The world will seem a better place
And all because you smiled.

My best friend is a book
that doesn’t give me a weird look.
It is like a golden door
that takes me to the land where I have never been before.
It tells me the tales of fairy
that take me to the land full of merry.
You can never go wrong with a book
Because a book is like your friend
And a book as you know never comes to an END.


© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source-  Wide Wallpapers

Invigorate thy soul

soul

From one soul to another.

Every person fights a battle.

A battle fought for a reason you’ll never know.
A battle whose victor you’ll never predict.
But one thing I tell you:
This battle is the sole reason that makes a person the way they are.

You remember that happy guy you always see across the hallway? Maybe he’s still fighting his war and losing. Yet the reason he’s happy could be his will to be strong, the only thing that keeps him going.
Or maybe he has finished his wars and came out victorious.
But how ironic that you’ll never know since you couldn’t go up to him and ask, “How are you?” Rather than staring at him from a distance.

For another instance, have a look at that other girl who goes unnoticed. You wonder why she’s quiet? Because her friends are more popular than she is. Because you didn’t care enough to look past her friends and ask her how her day was or even, where she came from. But that doesn’t bother her. Yes, I repeat, it doesn’t bother her.
The only reason it happens is because her war is much intense. There are victories she wants to celebrate, defeats she want to feel sympathy for but there’s no time. The wars in her head never stop.
Or maybe that’s since she needs you to just ask her “How are you?” Rather than where her friends are.

It could all be this simple, just ask. Because in the end even you have a war to fight and alone, the nights are darker and days longer.
Stay strong, my friend. You’ll get through this.


©The Honest Fabler

©Image Source – Google Images

Prismatic Life

As clouds express their sweet refrain
And we are blessed by morning rain.

When rainbows form in misty skies
Clouds present treasures for our eyes.

There is a rainbow in my world today,
With every word you write my way.
Colors of emotions flow in harmony,
as they spread across the sky in unity.
Wrap me in your red, orange and blue,
fill me with the purple passion of you.
You make the sky shine after that rain,
softly your soul pushes away the pain.
In every luxurious line that you say,
you are the rainbow in my world today.

Colours of life

White, as far as the eye can see snow had finally arrived to every place but me..

Black, Shadows lurk the streets strikes fear into my heart and finds the soul he eats..

Green,eyes never ending in that one shade rare but findable frightening but lovely a creation in which evolution has made..

Blue,the ocean has a calm and safe feeling an Unstoppable full of emotion you look and see it will never stop seeking..

Red,Flames lightning up one by one heat fills the space as well as hate close your eyes and hope this will be undone..

Yellow, illumination covers my site the colour has blinded my view and I am the only one to witness this light..

Purple, my own realistic fantasy a dream where the world is different and I am forced to see..

Orange, and year of happiness is now here energy flows through me until the power is surrounding us everywhere.

Everywhere we see the passion in these colours of life we embrace.

© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source-Myself

Call from Home

call from home

Call from Home

“Fetch me a home.” He said.
“Home?” I chuckled.

“Yes, some place, where the walls offer solace and the rooftop soothes me,
when I lay beneath it” His eyes seemed lost.
“You already live there, darling.” I slipped my hand into his.

Bewildered he gazed at me.
So I continued,
“If home were some bricks stacked
upon each other and some concrete piled up,
I would forever be a vagrant.
But I reside, here under this skin.
My soul plays in the gaps of my veins.
My body is my home.

I’d decorate it with the fabric of love and
pierce my flesh with utter emotions.
Cleanse my blood for the dirt of the times long gone.
The phenomenon of home is restrained to an enclosed space
or a hundred paged book or some person or some memory you decide to live in.
Shed that cloak of pretense. Accept the home you were born in. For once.

The melanin in my skin shall be the glittered sky you wish to see from your window.
My dull hair shall be the rooftop encasing the miracles and the energies in it.
My skin shall contain my space.
Home is me, honey. It is me and it is you.
Wherever I reside, my home shall be.”


-Luna❤🌙(@inked_illusions)

A lunatic moon lover and a writer with a perfect choice of words! Also, she dances like water! Let me introduce you my friend— Divya Thakur!(@waackoholic)

Be sure to check out her instagram handles for more beautiful write ups and dance videos!

©Image Source – Google Images
©The Honest Fabler

TRASH THE ASH

TRASH THE ASH

Who says being a quitter is a bad thing?

I have been strong for far too long, can’t keep the pace now.
I have been carrying on ,driving down the same old roads, I am losing faith, starting to lose face.
Seems it’s the same every day, seems nothing ever changes. I have nothing left to lose, there is nothing left to gain. There isn’t anything left to say.
These pills only kill the pain for just so long, just one more line and I will be able to go on. I have run out of cigarettes to smoke, I am down to my last shot of whiskey. I know that if I keep up this lifestyle, it will kill me .

Hold me close,do not let me go,I find myself becoming my own worst enemy.Hold me tight ,don’t let my mind take flight .It is getting harder for me to breathe.I need a helping hand ,someone to save me from myself ,because I do not think I can and I do not know how much more I can stand. I feel I have lost my mind,all concept of time,I go to extreme just to unwind .

I am sorry if my words have brought you down ,it seems like you are always around,for the good and the bad days,when I am feeling crazy,a touch of insane.You get it all ,the best of me and the worst of me ,now that I am down on my knees,crying please.I realise it’s you who whispers to me calmly,soothing away the misery.It is you who makes me want to straighten out and get clean.I know there is a better way to ease my pain ,I do not need drugs to make myself feel sane .I have you brighten those darker days .


©The Honest FablerPooja Mukherjee
©Image Source – Google Images

END OF REIGN

reign

End of Reign

“Death is inevitable. A reign that is created, must fall apart.”

The body will decompose or fly. The phony sculptures and mighty architectures will not stand still. One day or the other, it will atomize into soil and sand. It’ll worth nothing more than blowing dust. The power, we are fighting for, will fall. The dog tag of the religious illusions will melt. No culture, no belief, no faith will hold us together.

Pseudo brotherhood will die in vain.

The only fact of time-and-space is true. Evolution is just a word. Space between two-time periods is evolution. Cosmic energy that was travelling through space has given birth to this beautiful universe. From nothing all emerge. And after billions of years we took birth with no religion, no greed and no ego.

The experience we gathered, the knowledge we shared and the space between us has given our identity. The starvation and security forced us together. Later, pleasure and power overrun our judgment. Nationality, language, colour, habit, religion, circadian rhythm have bifurcated the freedom of living. And as we progress through time, one after another the light of Mesopotamian civilization, Indus valley civilization, Macedonian Dynasty, Maurya Dynasty, Roman Empire, Ottoman Empire, Mughal Empire, British Empire went off.

The rise of renaissance buried the social abuses and slavery. A new global awareness and care is spreading. Information and education, vision and ambition, rapid creation and destruction are erasing the myths, customs and traditions that don’t pace with time. Old must die, and new finds its place. And when it will reach its pick. Sooner or later the overexploitation and injustice towards this globe and automation will eventually destroy mankind, a new era will take place.

History will repeat itself. Same as dinosaur were once completely erased and we took their place. And eventually this planet will also end once the sun burn out all of its energy. Everything that we know today will turn into nothing.

The Death is the Ultimate Truth.


©The Honest FablerPooja Mukherjee
©Image Source – Google Images

Send me a man.

send me a man

Send me a man.

Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man, who’s not a creep,
One who’s handsome, smart and strong.
Who loves to listen long,
And think before he speaks,
Send me a man who’ll call and not wait for weeks.

I pray he’s gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, he won’t be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who’ll make love to my mind,
Knows what to answer when I ask
“How big is my behind?”

I pray that this man will love me to no end, And always be my very
best friend.


©The Honest Fabler Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source – Wallpaperswide.com