Without losing you! 

    There’s frustration here,

    Tucked in the stitches of sadness.

    Folded in to the hems of hasitation,

    Sewn into the armscye of apprehension.

    There was once a time when 

    You would speak to me

    And mean what you said.

    It is all so ambiguous, now,

    So nebulous.

    I am making assumptions where

    I ought to be making connections.

    I am holding my breath when 

    I ought to be losing it.

    I am looking for understanding when 

    I ought to be seeing it.

    I do not know where you went as 

    I do not know where you came from.

    I do not know how to be rid of you.

    Without losing you completely. 


    નરેશજીની ગઝલ 💖

    સ્પર્શની સાથે તું તારી જાત મારામાં મૂકી ગઇ

    યાદનાં નામે સળગતી આગ મારામાં મૂકી ગઇ
    વાંઝણા લાગે દિવસ ને વાંઝણી છે રાત મારી

    ઝંખનાનો કાયમી અહેસાસ મારામાં મૂકી ગઇ
    કાયમી મારે પ્રતિક્ષા નાંમની પીડાથી લડવું

    એક ચાતકની નજરનો ભાવ મારામાં મૂકી ગઇ
    જે કદી મટશે નહી એ દર્દ આપી ગઇ મને તું

    સર્દ મૌસમમાં મજાનો તાવ મારામાં મૂકી ગઇ
    પ્રેમ તો સૌ કોઇ માણસ કરતાં રહે છે આ જગતમાં

    માત્ર તને ચાંહું એ ફરમાન મારામાં મૂકી ગઇ
    સાવ પાસે સૌનું ચાહી તું વસે એ સૌને ગમશે

    તું નજરથી દૂરનો વસવાટ મારામાં મૂકી ગઇ
    જ્યારથી તારો સહારો પ્રેમનાં નામે મળ્યો છે

    શબ્દનાં સાથી રૂપે અંદાજ મારામાં મૂકી ગઇ
    ક્યાં એ ભવનું માંગણું છે કે “મહોતરમાં” મળી ગઇ

    સાત દરિયા પારનો સહચાર મારાંમાં મૂકી ગઇ

    -નરેશ કે.ડૉડીયા

    If we were strom! ⛈

    img_0696If we were strom, you’d be thunder and I’d be lighting,

    When it rains we’ll always be closer to each other,

    You can see me and I can hear you,

    Whalen it’s raining  one forty four in the morning,

    You wake up because of the sound of the rain and out of no where your room lights up from your window,

    Just for that brief moment,

    You’ll be surrounded by me.

    Moments later I hear the thunder cracks..

    And I know it’s you, proclaiming your love for me!

    You’re my thunder honey and I am your lighting!

    Summers-Springs

    🌾We sat under an old thorn-tree

    And talked away the night,

    Told all that had been said or done

    Since first we saw the light,

    And when we talked of growing up

    Knew that we’d halved a soul

    And fell the one in t’other’s arms

    That we might make it whole;

    Then he had a murdering look,

    For it seemed that he and she

    Had spoken of their childish days

    Under that very tree.

    O what a bursting out there was,

    And what a blossoming,

    When he had all the summer-time

    And she had all the spring..

    #she #shero #iphoneclick #shotbyme #underthornbranchandtree #meera

    The Good Girl never Wins.

     
    “Hide your eyes darling, people can see your heart through them.” ~ Unknown

    Sometimes it seems like the good girl never wins.
    For now, let’s put away the insurgence of opinions about girls versus women because it doesn’t matter which term we use. Whether it’s women or girls—the good ones, it seems, are often found at home with broken hearts.
    We believe in hope and in love, and so we conduct ourselves with a purity of passion and the belief that if we love as we are meant to, then eventually that love will be returned.
    We are good.
    Not because we aren’t a little bad from time to time, but because there is an innocence about us that keeps us doing the right thing even when no one is watching. We give all that we have, and then some. We smile for others even when inside our hearts shudder with pain.
    When we believe no one is watching, we let our eyes flood with all of the feelings we are too scared to speak of. We don’t like to cause others pain and it seems, inadvertently, we find ourselves hurting from the task of being too good. 
    There’s no drama or inconsistency with us, as we are as loyal and committed as they come.
    We don’t need someone else to fill us up or to reassure us of our place in this world and so we seem like we are always okay. We let others keep thinking that if they left, we will be just fine—because it seems that we always are.

    It’s this badge of falsified self-sufficiency that ends up being our downfall.
    The good girl loves wholly and fully.
    Unabashed in her divine feminine energy, she doesn’t wish to play games or to pretend that she doesn’t just love—but she feels. She kisses the sun and spreads her legs for only the moon, smiling for even the chance to be the light for someone else.
    She’s good—and she’s fine.
    Yet, somewhere in between it all good seems never good enough. It’s overpowering, possibly overwhelming in its essence of unconditionality because it’s often easier to disbelieve in the magic of love than it is to believe in its reality.
    The problem is that she’s become too good at pretending.
    By placing everyone else’s happiness above her own, and spreading her energy so far that she herself becomes drained, she finds herself never being able to actually ask for the one thing that it is she wants. Someone to see that it’s her goodness that is the most tender aspect of her heart. Although it seems steadfast, the reality is, it needs protection.
    The good girl is just hoping one day someone will want to protect her from the very thing she fears the most—getting hurt.

    I Hope he loves you like this 💖

    I hope he calls you in the morning

    after a night of sleeping in a big, empty bed

    Just to say good morning

    Just to hear your voice

    as it is the only wake up call

    he needs.

    I hope he cooks you breakfast

    Knowing how you like your eggs

    how you take your coffee

    how little or how much you wish to speak.

    I hope he cooks you dinner, too

    For no reason at all.

    I hope he holds your hand proudly

    as you walk through a room

    of people you don’t know.

    I hope he builds you up

    until you are standing on a pedestal

    of your own creation.

    I hope he encourages you to make art

    take risks

    travel the world

    be alone—

    always knowing that you’ll be back

    home in his warm embrace

    as long as his heart is open.

    I hope he wears his heart on his sleeve

    and is not shy

    to adorn yours

    as well.

    I hope he is the kind of person

    who, when presented with the ocean,

    will not shy away

    from diving in

    to ride the waves.

    I hope he is all of himself

    unafraid to own

    his stories

    no matter how dark they may seem.

    I hope he can see that all of you

    is in the stars

    poking through

    the dark sky

    of your past.

    I hope he is not scared

    by your ability to choose growth

    your ability to not be held hostage

    by the person you were yesterday

    last week

    last year.

    I hope his attention span

    is as long as every word

    that exits your mouth

    your heart.

    I hope that he hears your truth

    and meets it with gratitude

    for your vulnerability.

    I hope he loves you

    in a way you didn’t know love existed.

    For you have only seen love

    in other places

    with shaky ground that fell

    beneath your hopeful feet.

    This is who I hope

    for you—

    Because you are worthy

    of being loved

    by a heart so bright

    the sun blushes

    in admiration.

    I hope he loves you like this!