Image courtesy: the writer

A short story

The pandemic is taking a toll on our mental stress; hence we opt to look for different avenues to safeguard our mental sanity. For me, the indoor plants, the outdoor walks, or book-reading are still doing the trick, I guess.

Last week, after a long time, I stretched my legs to take a stroll in an adjacent park and refresh my eyes with the outside scenery. The roads were empty, not many movements on the walkways. So it was not that difficult for me to keep the distance and walk without the mask for most of the time.

Hence, when…

“Growing green inside.” Image credit: the writer.

So, I decided to capture their wonderful charm, a difficult job to attain.

Every morning, when I wake up, the sun rays poured down through the window, shading lights in my home. It makes me feel wonderful. What truly makes a difference in the mornings is the green spark, reflecting the sunlight’s glow on the plant.

My home looks like a little piece of heaven. The plants’ soothing and calming tone transformed our house entirely if we compare before plant and after plant decorated rooms.

These houseplants became my green friends, my fellas to calm me when stressed, and an occasion to walk around the house, take care of them, and feel their…


And associated verbiage to utter stolen moments

Photo by Scott Szarapka on Unsplash, poem title added by the writer, created in Canva (Link)

I ditched the clouds of dust on the road I left behind
taking a frozen breath of the stolen moments
I stand in front of the gusts of wind
recollecting the thoughts of reversed luck that
screamed before, now locked inside an iron box
closing misconceptions of reality

carried away notions stumbled to reasoning
and cleared the air
of the gripped reality
my electric soul sounds like a guitar
tuning to the rhythm of life again

me, if I could sail to the Bahamas now slipping through the blue sea passing the city of wonders and the lighthouse somewhere illuminated…

Stardust, believing in simplicity of life

Image courtesy: this ‘About Me’ writer, taken by the writer’s spouse. T-shirt showing that there might be 47% of the life remaining at that time (t-shirt courtesy: NasDaily)

I’m putting my place in the universe into perspective. I’m stardust. I’m golden brown. I’m just one small bit in a vast expanse.
— Holly Goldberg Sloan

When I thought of writing about myself, I couldn’t ignore the fact that I’m stardust (or, probably, a sprinkling bit of it), just like others on the vast horizon of the ignited Universe. I’m the earth’s resident, residing on a tiny part of the Milky Way galaxy, just another amongst the billions of that kind.

Paper Poetry Bi-Weekly Connect Letter, for the timeline of April 4 — April 17, 2021

Photo by Jill Heyer on Unsplash

Hello everyone,

The outside is smiling in blooming nature, although humans are going through a struggling period of their history.

The difficulties placed by the pandemic are pushing us to painful emotions and loss. Like many other families, my extended family is experiencing unbearable sorrows and pain, especially in the last couple of months. Lives lost and suffering is prolonging for long!

Hopefully, time will heal the wounds; it always does.

Meanwhile, we will evolve by dealing with the pains, learning new ways to accommodate, and eventually rising to the challenge to proceed to the next steps. Poetry and storytelling…

‘Hey, you!’ A bit artwork version of the snapshot. Image courtesy: the writer.

Free Verse poem

A collective Project of photography and poetry combination in Film Shooters Collective

Photography courtesy: Shaun La. Main image link. Instagram. Photographer’s website.

the lights off and on
in the passing subway stations
I take a glance,
one more station passed by
one more to go

the speed steps into motions
placing a blurry image outside
an animated show circling back and forth
connecting the stops, I didn’t step in

passing through the tunnel hole
lights emerge
darkness disappears
my stop is yet to come

am I already into it
the train being the stop
or just a vehicle
taking me on an unknown journey
in the land of the American dreams

embraced hopes in measured dreams from the memoirs bringing into lights…

Hence goes my words alone

Photo by Jairo Alzate on Unsplash

in the deep night sleep where
my senseless eyebrows sleep in peace, but
the dreams remain absent inside to search
a good night sleep

ssshhh, quiet

paralyzed thoughts can’t march
just utters some hopeless words, circulating
around my mediocre membrane

a drink is yet to take
the poison to inhale
unholy wraths wait, even after the sleepless night

dreams dried out beforehand

a mantra, some holy smoke
clasp me close to hang tight for another day

my open eyes
close for a while

and take a chance when the daylight touches
shinning on my forehead, cursed out and damned

Suntonu Bhadra

Human ▪ Travel storyteller, photographer, history enthusiast, poetic scribbler ▪ Editor of Paper Poetry ▪ Insta: sbpoetrymedium

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