Invictus

Poetry

Out in the world, ruthless as hell,
Beaten and battered on and on,
I thank my parents the most,
For teaching me how to thrive.

In a bloody soup of all problems,
I’ve learned to stay afloat,
Under all sorts of crisis,
I’ve cried, yet never gave up.

Besides this world filled with hate,
Love, in the purest form, exists,
And I shall make my momma proud,
For she made me who I am.

It matters not what shall come,
How crazy life can get,
I’m my daddy’s little warrior,
I’m the ruler of my destiny.

NaPoWriMo Day 5

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Warm Winters & Cold Summers

Poetry

It’s the same roads we’ve driven,
More times than I can count,
The icy trails just add on,
To the warmth, I feel within,
I felt so safe sipping my coffee,
With you right by my side,
Always smiling, yet so cautious,
Ah! I felt the warmest…
On winter drives with you.

But fate played such a twist,
For on the same roads that we drove,
You were snatched right before my eyes,
Now, the roads are forever red,
Stained in your blood,
And even the summer breeze,
Makes me feel cold,
Ah! I feel the chilliest…
On summers without you.

For NaPoWriMo Day 4

Featured image & inspiration:

Dubiety of a Chaotic Mind

Poetry

I’ve got this way with words,
Is it a blessing or is it a curse?
To feel everything so deeply,
To be shattered so gravely,
Ah, a curse it must be, I say.

But then I fly so high,
Feel euphoric in the smallest joy,
Hope never leaves my side,
Even when despair takes over my life,
Ah, it’s a blessing, I admit.

Only to be swallowed whole,
Into the depth of darkness never seen,
Yet I rise again, every time,
I smile, and I fly,
I laugh, and I cry.

Oh, I’m tired!
Pour me some wine,
Let me relish the high,
And ride the chaos,
For I am, and always shall be,
The QUEEN!

For NaPoWriMo Day 3

Featured image by: Vlada Karpovich from Pexels

A Fulfilling Choice

Poetry

A dilemma I faced in the days of yore,
Between a path laid out for me,
And chasing my heart,
I took a step with my trembling feet,
As I crushed, what set me apart.

Long I walked, with my head held high,
As my soul withered like the autumn leaves,
Soon there was nothing left,
I survived on pills,
Marching towards my ruination.

That’s when I heard a frail call,
More like a little girl’s rebellion,
And I took a bold step, did a 180,
Claimed back the reins of my life,
Solo, I rode away.

There were dreams shattered,
Faith dwindled,
But I ran, and ran, and ran,
Let my heart lead the way,
Until I was finally free.

Sometimes I still wonder,
How different life would have been,
Would it be easier?
But I made a choice,
My soul is satisfied.

For NaPoWriMo Day 2

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A Trippy Trip

Poetry

You huff and puff,
Then, gulp, gulp, gulp,
Cigarettes and whiskey,
Taking you up, up, up,
You trip and you fall,
Then, you slur, slur, slur,
Tripping high, falling low,
Everything’s slow, slow, slow,
You think you rule,
But world’s cruel, cruel, cruel,
So, you huff and puff,
Then, gulp, gulp, gulp,
Cigarettes and whiskey,
Taking you up, up, up.

For NaPoWriMo Day 1.

Featured image by: Anni Roenkae from Pexels

Batteling loneliness to finding life long romance

Poetry, Writer life

When nobody held my hand, poetry held my heart. Amid the depth of pain and hoping for a change, words became my forever friend. I don’t even remember the exact year but what I know is that I wrote every time I felt a strong emotion and had nobody to express it to. I used to write on the last pages of my notebooks, only to throw them away in fear that anybody would read them. I didn’t want anybody to read my words, for they contained my deepest and darkest secrets. But then the internet happened!

The internet felt like a safe place. I could easily create a pen name and post anything that I want. Nobody would know that I wrote it, and yet I would be heard. That’s how I started posting my writings on Wattpad. Those were the days when paid stories were still not a thing, so, I would spend literally hours on the app. I read to escape reality, and I wrote to vent. That’s when I decided I wanted to be a writer.


But writing is easy, being a writer not so much. Damn! It’s tough. Especially if you have a writing job, it’s really difficult to find some words for yourself after work. So, when I started this blog three years ago, I posted a poem and forgot about it until almost 2020.


2020 was crazy! By 2020, I mean the end of 2019 till a few months into 2021. This was the crazy rollercoaster ride that I’m still somehow surviving.

2019 was great. I had an amazing job, I wrote ads that played in movie theaters, and I was finally with my parents. Then, I quit my job hoping to pursue a master’s degree, and that’s when the pandemic hit. So, I was jobless and had nothing to do and I remembered that I had created this blog. Thanks to all the meaningful connections I made here, you made 2020 bearable.

Besides awesome WordPress friends, 2020 was bleh. Jobless and stuck at home, I found the cure to boredom in sad poetry. And I guess that’s when I wrote a book, a poetry collection to be more precise. This book wouldn’t have been possible with each and every encouraging words by fellow writers and readers on this blog. So, thank you so much for being a part of this journey.


Valentines Day of 2021 was when my book was supposed to be released. A perfect book for single people. 101 emotions that they wouldn’t have to feel. But then life happened, and procrastination happened, shifting the release to April 1st. It seemed like a perfect date. A book dedicated to everyone who has been fooled by love, releasing on April Fools Day.

But damn! Kindle Publishing is not as easy as it seems, not for first-timers anyway. I’m definitely going to talk about all the unexpected things I came across.

You can find the ebook version of Chronicles of a Broken Heart at https://www.amazon.com/Chronicles-Broken-Heart-Reasons-Fall-ebook/dp/B091CGFFPZ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=chronicles+of+a+broken+heart&qid=1617208714&s=digital-text&sr=1-1

And yeah, I know it’s published two days prior to the planned date of release but I have an explanation (more like a rant) for that too. For people who prefer the feel of paper, the paperback version will be available soon. Most probably, within this week itself.

To people who’re trying to make sense of the blog title, it’s writing. Writing is my one true love, my lifelong romance.

While I can’t make any promises, I really am hoping to be super regular and follow the NaPoWriMo 2021 prompts.

Much love,
Shreya Joshi

Get well soon, kiddo!

Poetry

I hear his scream,
And I rush to his room,
And I see him,
Trying to move. 

I offer him a hand,
He shakes his head,
As he tries to stand,
And get out of the bed. 

He winces at every step,
And my heart just breaks,
He lets out a yelp,
And my insides crack. 

I wish I could help,
Take away all his pain,
But all I can do is stay,
And watch in vain.

Featured image by: Ivan Samkov from Pexels

Not worth loving

Poetry

Free-spirited soul, happy & glee,
What a beautiful lie she weaves!
Ambitions she has, that she chases,
But that’s just one of her phases.
Every moment, her colour changes,
She pretends to be perfect,
But in reality, she’s deranged,
Her insecurities run deep within,
She trusts no one, not even herself,
Her mind is a pool of negativity,
She’s filled with toxic insecurities,
So, she cuts herself to get rid of it.
And you say you love her,
Like she’s the light of your life,
But how can she light up anything,
When her insides are rotting?
How can she give you anything,
Besides headache and miseries?
Oh, darling, you fell in love,
With a girl not worth loving.

Featured image by: Uus Supendi from Pexels

Lost.

Poetry

I’ve had my heartbroken,
And I’ve shattered a few,
I don’t know what life has for me,
I’m lost without a clue,
As fickle-minded as I am,
I change my direction every time,
Going round and round in circles,
I’m dizzy, life seems like a circus,
I have no idea what I am doing,
Nor do I know where I am going,
But I want to stop for a while,
Rest my heart and close my eyes.

Featured image by: Ryanniel Masucol from Pexels

If my ribcage were a wishbone…

Poetry

If my ribcage were a wishbone,
To give a second chance,
To my battle scarred heart,
Or I had some magic potion,
To heal all my bleeding wounds,
I would be tempted to use them all,
To once again, feel new and whole.

But I would fight past my temptations,
And wear my battle scars with pride,
As blood drips down my battered body,
With bullet holes and arrows hanging,
I shall hold my head high,
For all the battles, I valiantly fought,
I survived, and I thrived.

It would be easy to forget it all,
Patch up the scars and wear a mask.
But why would I ever choose to pretend,
When I have a glorious story to tell?
I don’t need magic to heal me,
I’m magical, and so is my journey.

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