Like strawberries crushed To sweeten marmalade A heart pained Is shred to bits Bitter sweet memories Ruddy peels in jelly mush Sitting still in fragile jars Lingering fragrance Myriad flavors on the lips Fingers now sticky with Soulful tales to spread!
Even in the blazing summer The world has frozen over Splattered with blood Of swindled innocents Loss of generations Unconsoled lamentations Our souls so cold Hearts so numb; When Gods are at war Men matter no more? Just marionettes, petty In the playbook of destiny!
Books were bought with care and cherished; not hoarded into digital spaces because someone recommended the next best-seller. Reading was not competition; it was relaxation.
I have a Rumi Pocketbook in my desk, since more than two decades, and once upon a time it gave me much succour. That was before the age of the madness of devices. It moved around with me one house to another, packed in boxes. Then, it lay quietly in a drawer, waiting, holding words of wisdom in it’s bosom, until my 11-year old son retrieved it and asked if it was age-appropriate for him to read! My heart overflowed with joy!
It is important to have books in the house – hardcovers, paperbacks; diaries, 📒 notebooks and stationery – little treasures, waiting to be discovered. Let your children unearth the bounty, find solace and refuge in the power of the written word. My son writes in his little Harry Potter themed journal or blogs only after jotting down ideas in a notebook. He loves glitter pens and gel pens, and no batch of bookmarks🔖 or post-it notes are ever enough. We share our love for stationery and to his credit I have introduced him to the indulgence. I blogged about this earlier also.