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Noctuaries

Hello Readers! A little about this blog - The name of this blog is Noctuaries. The word "Noctuary" means - "The record of a night's events, thoughts or dreams". And true to to it's name this blog is a record of thoughts that flood my mind in the later hours of the night.

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Poetry : Tell me why...

on October 13, 2021

Critical Poetry Poetry

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Poetry : Fun

on October 13, 2021

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Poetry : Smoke

on October 13, 2021

Poetry Positive Poetry

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A long evening (Short Story)

on October 05, 2021

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Poetry : Hey there traveler!

on October 04, 2021

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Poetry : Waves

on October 03, 2021

Poetry Positive Poetry

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Poetry : Are we free?

on October 03, 2021

Critical Poetry Poetry

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Poetry : I hope that

on October 01, 2021

Critical Poetry Poetry

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Poetry : Creation

on September 29, 2021

Poetry Positive Poetry

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The Uninvited (Short Story)

on September 28, 2021

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Poetry : The curious case of little old Cassie

on September 25, 2021

Poetry Positive Poetry

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Poetry : Sunlight

on September 21, 2021

Poetry Positive Poetry

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Raja Ravi Varma, Goddess Saraswati

on September 20, 2021

Art Interpretation Article

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The Best Way to Memorize : Active Recall

on September 19, 2021

Article Personal Development

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Habit Formation

on September 18, 2021

Article Personal Development

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5 Brilliant Productivity Tips

on September 17, 2021

Article Personal Development

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What truly brings me joy?

on September 16, 2021

Article Personal Development

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Arathi Nayak

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Art Interpretation
Article
Critical Poetry
Love Poem
Personal Development
Poetry
Positive Poetry
Random Musings

Popular Posts

The Uninvited (Short Story)

Anisa opened the door and let the familiar stranger in. He made himself comfortable very quickly as she hurried off into the kitchen to make tea. Anisa had never been able to hold a conversation with the man. She only knew how to cater to him and watch him make himself home in her quiet little space. For the past few months, the man had been visiting her every day. Every day he would come to move things around, make a mess & steal her possessions. Sometimes she would watch him, and sometimes she would stand silently in her bedroom. The man had drawn on her walls, & torn down the living room wallpaper numerous times. He had thrown away her trophies and medals. On a few occasions, the man had burst firecrackers in her bedroom. He had torn up the clothes from her closet, her bedsheets, pages from her diaries & her certificates. Sometimes, the man wrote in her diary, modified her entries by adding or removing adjectives & words from them. Anisa would always clean up after t

How to write poetry?

How to write poetry? Why write poetry? First and foremost, why even write poetry? As I mention in my poem : Why Write? , you write to release your creative energy. You write to express yourself. And the written word is very powerful. You can write for yourself or you can write for the world. It is very important to keep this in mind, as it makes all the difference. Writing is very therapeutic. You can declutter your mind and make sense of your thoughts through writing. Poetry specifically allows you to express yourself it in lesser words, than say a story or an article. I personally enjoy the mental health benefits of writing on a daily basis. It has been extremely therapeutic during the global pandemic. Moreover, writing poetry will challenge you tremendously. It is an exercise for your mind that will enable to think outside the box and think creatively. You can also improve your hold of the language that you choose to write in. Poetry challenges you to look at the world in your own

Poetry : Road Of Dreams

Road Of Dreams On the blurry road of dreams I've seen strange things I've reached unexpected places I've done uncharacteristic deeds What will I get in the end? What I desire or something else altogether? Something better? Something worse? Something I want or something I need? I think there's more to come And I may or may not be ready I only aim to live without regret May I be steady... may I find balance...

What truly brings me joy?

What truly brings me joy? Whenever I ask myself, "What truly brings me joy?", I find myself with many potential answers. I use the word "potential" because throughout my adult life I have taken many routes in the pursuit of happiness. Some I believed would make me happy because it made others happy. Some I was told would make me happy because they were society’s approved markers of happiness. But recently when I truly gave it thought through a different perspective, I got an interesting answer. When I was a kid I used to sit on the living room floor and solve jigsaw puzzles while listening to the early 2000s band Bombay Viking. "Woh Chali" played in the background as I diligently worked on constructing Mickey Mouse's face, my brows furrowed in concentration. The movie "Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham" had a popular song - "You are my Sonia". This used to be my favorite song and I would play it on loop in my cassette player and dance for

Poetry : Lost

Lost Sometimes I need to remind myself That I exist, that I have existed I've lived, I've dreamt, I've had fun Cause it's very easy to get lost... Lost in the things that don't matter Lost in mundanity, trapped in the rhythm

5 Brilliant Productivity Tips

5 Brilliant Productivity Tips Here are some brilliant tips on productivity that might help you utilise your time better : The Speed Hour Basically, a speed hour is just an hour of fast and focused work. The idea is to give yourself one dedicated hour to do whatever task you need done. And that one hour is all you will give yourself. If the task is something that can be accomplished within one hour then well and good. If not, at least you would have made one hour's worth of progress. Another way to use the speed hour is to use to knock of short tasks that can be finished quickly. So set aside one hour and start knocking off these tasks from your to-do list rapidly. It will clear up your to-do list and make you feel less overwhelmed about all the things you need to get done. Remember to work fast. Try not to stop. Just finish tasks as fast as you can. Block Schedule A block schedule means that you have to replace the one really long list & instead create several smaller to-do

Poetry : Nilgiri nights

Nilgiri nights Drowning in the radiance of the Nilgiri night Makes one question what is lacking in life The starry sky sparked a fire in the watcher Lot to reminisce in such peaceful weather Creatures orchestrated the night's symphony Many hungry, many deadly, but most sleepy A warm blue Razai provided needed warmth Butter chicken & ghee parathas completed the mood

Poetry : Existence

Existence I've realized that I've never existed I've never existed in reality I've never existed in the physical world I've never lived in the story The story that has taken place so far The one people call the story of my life Everyone who has met me Everyone who has watched me I've never existed with them I've never lived in their reality I've merely participated in this reality Letting time fly by Letting things happen Caring only just so Caring just enough to keep breathing To keep the body alive In motion, moving ahead While I've existed is elsewhere In a place which is both real and imaginary In concepts, in stories, in ideas, in thoughts In music, in darkness, in sunlight, in silence In quiet moments, in fiction, in madness I am not this reality, this reality is not me We are twins born attached, yet separate Will this realization bring peace? Freedom? Confusion? Chaos?

Poetry : Smoke

Smoke They say I need smoke to have fire I must befriend this grey creature Because there are things I need to burn But its hard because we've been enemies My blood does not pretend to be wine It remains thick and bleeds with truth I've fought hard to keep the smoke away To be real, honest, bare, naked and true But I must try, I must try to tell this lie The way of the world as they all say Smoke and fire - best friends forever Smoke, grey smoke, hiding my fears

Poetry : Insomnia

Insomnia Unrested eyes stare blankly at the well-lit screen It finds the ceiling interesting at 3 in the morning The smooth clear white paint is deafeningly mute I am utterly incapable of making myself fall asleep A full night of sleep is a luxury I've only rarely tasted The morning light starts to peek through the blinds I'm still nursing the headache I've had all night long It is painful to think and it is agonizing to try to sleep Insomnia is an excruciatingly distressing limbo I would not wish it upon my most spiteful enemies

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