Storytelling

Nothing but Hope

In the turbulent tides of time,
The ebb and flow of the fortune, that is,
What holds me in place is
Nothing but hope.

In the pitch-black nights,
The darkness of misdirection, that is,
What serves me right is
Nothing but hope.

In that corner of my heart, where
Words weigh more than memories, that is,
Passion and compassion meet, I have
Nothing but hope.

In contrast with how much I take
That source continues to give, that is,
A soul that is burning forever has
Nothing but hope.

Inquisitive, as ever, as my self is
For the world that continues to unfold, that is,
Full of surprises, I can only hope to have
Nothing but hope.

Into the untraveled destinations as I step,
I am apprehensive yet committed, that is,
Of a belief that I have
Nothing but hope.

After you became one with the One,
And merged yourself, that is,
I wish you to be there with me, after all, I have
Nothing but hope.
© Suyog Ketkar

From Micropoetry to Tech Comm: Connecting the Dots

There exist some common threads for micropoetry and technical communication, after all.

She’s that Inspiration

It is easier to decide on your inspiration than to become like one. Still, here’s my inspiration…

What’s Your Writing Prompt?

What inspires you to write?

Pretty. Simple.

A poem for Spruha. She turns 3 today.

What Writing Means to Me

Writing is that folklore that records, refers, and rekindles life. It is that act of play where you are both the actor and the audience.

What a (Father’s) Day

As far as my memory goes back in time, I don’t recall participating in any such event with my father. This event was special for me for that reason, too. I can’t thank Spruha enough for this. But, I can express this by showering her with my already limitless love.

Wayfinding My Writing

Words don’t convey anything until you give them the required context and structure. This means you must permit for their association (with either action or empathy).

The Delightful Life

Beholding the sunrise, As I trace the ocean’s footprints on sands, The drenched shore slips from under my feet, Life becomes a delight. Trailing through the woods, As I listen to the rustling leaves that Share with me the recitals of the Summer, Life becomes a delight. Humming that old song, The forgotten lyrics of which I happen to effortlessly sing, Life becomes a delight. Looking out of the window,

The Day Tour of Cambridge

I didn’t cover everything. I couldn’t. But then, I realize that if I cover everything in one visit, what will I plan the next visits for? Considering that I meant business when I flew into Cambridge, the city has intrigued me enough to shift the target of my next visits. As I head back home, I remain a travel bug hungry for more.

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