Ten years ago, on my way to college, I got on my regular bus, which was fortunately not crowded and had a few vacant seats. I sat by the window and started reading a book that they were teaching in my Literature class, Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. At the next stop, a girl got on the bus and sat next to me. She noticed what I was reading, then smiled at me and asked, “Is that by Daphne du Maurier?” That was the conversation starter. The route to my college usually takes about 30-45 minutes, depending on the traffic. The entire time, we chatted without a pause. We talked about all the books we enjoyed reading, the authors we love, and I cannot forget the enthusiasm with which we would laugh and agree if we both named a book that we mutually enjoyed reading. We also talked a bit about our personal lives, I guess, but I don’t remember much about that. All I know is that her name was Hannah. I did not meet her again but the joy that I felt while talking to her was surreal. I usually dislike and dread conversations with strangers as it makes me very uncomfortable. I do not like small talk, I do not like listening to random people rambling about their life. But with Hannah, it was a two-way conversation about topics of similar interests that brought out the best version of ourselves.
It is strange how we can sometimes connect with strangers, while there are certain people with whom we can spend a lifetime together and still be uncomfortable showing our real side.
Myths, Doves, Tears, and the Rest by Martin Boško
Poetry | Love | Emotions | Mythology
Myths, Doves, Tears, and the Rest is a collection of admirably written poems by Martin Boško. It takes you on a journey inspired by Greek mythology while also tugging on the heartstrings with feelings of love, betrayal, and longing.
This book is a collection of poems assembled by the author through one calendar year. The use of imagery, powerful expressions, and moving poems give us an insight into the inner workings of the poet’s mind. The author has shared some of his most intimate moments, emotions, and intentions that make each of his poems memorable. The rhyming nature of the poems was an absolute delight to read and made me want to keep going on and on for more.
When sadness comes as a raging river– Martin Boško
I reach into my trusty quiver
To pull out the Arrow made of honey
And heal the wounds that are fresh and bloody.
The book has four sections as mentioned in the title: Myths, Doves, Tears, and the Rest. Even though my knowledge of Greek mythology is quite basic, I still found the poems hard-hitting and extremely pleasing to read. The poems on love capture the heart and soul of the feeling of being in love. As I progressed further, I could not help but feel like I was experiencing heartbreak along with the poet through his poetry. There were many moments where I empathized with the poet and wished for a turnaround in his life. Overall, I highly recommend Myths, Doves, Tears, and the Rest for all those poetry lovers who wish to be taken on a journey of imagination and emotions.
Also, read my review on Reedsy.
A Walk Down the Street
A narrow unevenly tarred road.
Every day I walk on this street, hurriedly, trying not to attract too much attention while also silently observing the variety of events that happen on it every single day.
A woman washes clothes on a stone slab outside the door.
A man wearing a checkered lungi stands on the terrace brushing his teeth.
A tiny naked girl with uncombed hair is crying near her mother while the mother inattentively washes dishes.
A man is sitting on the bike with his friend standing beside him, smoking a cigarette while staring at people/women/me making us uncomfortable.
A small tailor’s shop has a bright yellow public phone booth. The shop is empty most of the time but there is always someone on the telephone. I wonder if the tailor listens to everybody’s conversations.
There are many small cement and brick houses on this lane which are painted in awkward bright colors – mint green, psychedelic purple, electric blue, some are not painted at all, and some houses are so old that the paint has faded and chipped off years ago.
In the midst of these fractured buildings, a tall apartment with a massive gate is randomly positioned breaking the entire rhythm. A little ahead is an open ground which is used by buses and truck drivers for parking but during the day it is usually empty.
A temple around the corner fills the street with the smell of marigold flowers and incense sticks. As I get closer, I hear the sound of bells and prayer chants.
I take a right, reach the main road, and disappear in the crowd of a busy street.
Cozy on the Edge
It can get pretty scary up there. But finding a cozy cabin house after a treacherous journey on the edge of a mountain cliff will feel like being reborn.
To make it a heavenly experience, drink tea by the window and enjoy the view.
Walking in Dunes
The sun is setting,
The walk is long,
The dunes never ending,
But I must go on.
You ask, what is so magical about a tea room?
Like a secret passage,
You need to bend a little to enter this small and warmly lit room.
You will be welcomed with a soft and busy murmur.
Sometimes, a whiff of floral aromas of jasmine and dried flowers,
Will pleasantly surprise and enrapture the senses.
The other times, sweet fragrances of herbs, spices, and earl grey,
Will mildly linger in the air.
Now and then, the sound of pouring liquid,
The crackling of wood in fire,
Will gently calm and get you settled in.
On the table beside,
A gentle clank of a kettle lid.
Sugar cubes plop – one, two – into the tea.
Teaspoons clink against the sides of the tea cup.
On the other side,
The soft slurps of satisfied lips,
As they relish the delicious flavors of their favorite tea.
The simplicity, the calming ambience, the relaxing sounds,
The warmth and the pleasing sensations,
Are some of the things,
That make the tea room so magical for me.
PS: Try it in the comfort of your room and make it magical with a cup of tea!
Long endless road
Rising sun on the horizon
I drive towards it.
Dusk was falling rapidly.
Air was getting colder.
Path ahead was lonely.
No one there to hold her.
A Cab Journey
He sat there by my side.
Losing his grip.
He clawed his bag with impatience.
I sat quietly beside.
With no movement.
Staring hard into my book.
Hours went by in silence.
Then came the time for him to leave.
He left me hanging.
Handsome, random, cab partner!
The curiosity never seems to end
The greed only begins to increase
Never will there come a time
Until we are wholly satisfied
So why the guilt?
Keep on with the journey of experiences.