Today’s Prompt: Where did you live when you were 12 years old?
Today’s twist: pay attention to your sentence lengths and use short, medium, and long sentences
I have had Photoshop lessons. And that introduced me to a feature called content-aware. This post seems to be a full-blown account of writing with awareness about the content and this is what goes through my mind when I read this. And I have a personal twirl on Today’s Prompt. An experience that I had when I was a 12-year-old nerdy kid. It was a competition for which I had been chosen to participate in. It was a national level competition and I had to travel to New Delhi (close to 2500KM or 1550 miles). The qualifying round was actually simple. The round involved a multiple choice question answer quiz about computers and such. The unexpected was getting selected. There were brainier kids in my class, not to count for the brainier classes nearby.
Continue reading Day 11: Memory Lane
Today’s Prompt: Tell us something about your favourite childhood meal.
Today’s twist: Tell the story in your own distinct voice.
Continue reading Day Ten: Happy Times
Today’s Prompt: Write about a loss: something (or someone) that was part of your life, and isn’t any more.
Today’s twist: Make today’s post the first in a three-post series.
In No Sense of Innocence
I seriously don’t feel like writing now, but I’m going to get this done.
Anytime at all, for me, writing and creating will always be fun.
I wanna write about the loss of innocence
Continue reading Day Four: Lost in Thought (Part 1/3)
A feeling that we behave without an inner sense.
I am leaving my school, where others can find
Memories of mine, which I leave behind.
I first came here at the age of three
An age when everyone is careless and free.
As my childhood days slowly flew,
My standard of studying also grew.
My friends and I had regular Monday morning blues,
We are now remorseful for wanting to avoid school.
Laughter caused by the jokes we cracked,
Class tests in which marks we lacked,
The playgrounds with cricket bats,
And stage plays in which we got to act,
Have all become completely abstract.
I used to think that the strict teachers were really bears,
But now I realise that they were the ones who really cared.
We used to run out at the stroke of the bell,
Running out thinking that we were escaping hell.
But now that all of us have become alumni,
We don’t have the heart to say goodbye.
They say that school is one’s second home,
It is with that thought that I finish my poem.