A white horse (Rudraa’s story)

This is so beautiful. I loved the warm feel of the story. I am really blessed to be surrounded by such loving and caring people who not only read my words but also go in depth of my mind. It is a treat to Eyes. Go and read this amazing story.


Sorry. No blabbering for tonight. Here is the story instead.


Shop’s bell rang.

„We are closed.“ The bartender said from behind the wall, but she hasn’t listened.

Rudraa took a seat by the bar and watched at her reflection in the mirror stacked full with bottles. She ran her eyes over the selection of branded drinks like she was looking for the strongest one, something that hasn’t passed her lips yet.

„We are closed. What part of that you have trouble understanding?“ The chubby, bald bartender asked and flipped his white rag over the shoulder.

„I’d like a double Jack please.“ It was almost a whisper she used to address to the man whose shadow passed her by.

„You are one of those, huh?“ He smirked for a second when she looked at him and saw a big TV on the wall – broadcasting news.

For the thousandth time…

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Starry nights, glistening Eyes

Amid the reflection of moon on the bottom of lake.

Stars were moving as straight as hawks 

Curving out at the edge to carve the beautiful evening 

Frail and fair, so delicately balanced the air 

Lumbering upon a thrown of pearl 

Beside the lake, beneath the trees.

The path etched with pebble stone were leading through the velvety petals.

Entangled by lights all around and enlightening to the place that I long to be 

To the bridge, undisturbed by winds where twilight gleams 

Like a melody in Tristan 

Foaming and gurgling into unwavering cavern

Like the shooting stars, whispering and champagne.

Invokes with twinkling eyes and fleeting desires.

A divine touch with magical aura thrills the brain.

Beautiful, enchanting and sublime 

Like a sinking sensation and mellow fantasy.


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Bloggers support bloggers


I hope that you all are doing well.  I am greatful to all of you for your continuous support that has encouraged me to expand my horizon. Also, I have started my blog last year in the December itself so just 17 days are left in One year Blog Anniversary. Today, I want to share the efforts made by one of my friend and a fellow blogger to get published his work. One of the member of our WordPress Community has started his own website. He has achieved the biggest milestone as it takes all the determination and hard work. So, let’s show some love and support to him. Help him to get published.

Join the Dronstad Project ( Patreons Account) and become one of the Patreon to get all the daily updates and fresh stories made just for you by your design. Illustrations, poems, stories and novel snippets are waiting for your eyes. Through it you can also go through the step by step process of carving a story curated by a brilliant illustration and vast imagination. So, have a look at the Dronstad Project and show some love and support to our fellow blogger.

You can also have access to all the Audio stories made by Shawn at Dronstad Project (YouTube) and for more information you can also visit on Dronstadblog

Bloggers support Bloggers. As this is the last month of 2018 so Let’s lend a helping hand to all the bloggers. You can also share your blog link or your latest blog in the comments section that you want to get reach to maximum people.


Thank you

Love and Peace



The mist in the winter is awning of snowfall,
Snowflakes scintillates the pathway,
Walking in the snow feels like a needle in a haystack,
With uncertainty of the path where it would lead you, one must enjoy the view.
Such beautiful time comes once in a year.
Surroundings gleams and new perspectives leads towards a new path,
Traveling to a new path feels like a new brush sweeps clean.
It’s a vacillation of mind whether to accept and embarrass new perspective of life or to delve in the past,
That is painting your world blue in the midst of the winter.
It’s a creation of an artist that leaves the readers pondering over the notions of a verse and entertain young readers.
Tranquil dreams paints an aura full of expressions and strokes entwine the palette of neutral colors,
Choreography of notions are forming a way towards future,
It’s a soul of a wanderer, a seeker and a writer who is seeking the key to unlock the door,
To pull out the artistic side and pour the colors of winter on the blank canvas.
A layer of tendril trail is the reflection of the future.
Such dilemma is filling up mind with pessimism.
Whether to move forward or wait for the snow to clear the path.
Caught in cold, slowly and passively it is drifting away,
Layers on layers on layers,
Spindled deep in the layers ,
A ray of sunlight is retreating the pathway
Opening ripples inside the hues of pale blue horizon,
It will not remain the same anymore, this hues are changing into bright colors.
This sea of horizon seldom occurs,
And this pathway soon would get covered with sheaves of leaves,
Leaves on leaves on leaves
Leaving behind the darkness, beckoning the bright days, long hours.
Threading the way out of dreary days
Seconds on seconds on seconds,
Making every nanosecond, worth a while.

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He is like a whimsical formed line across the sky.

He is like a shore of horizon turning into a shade of mulberry. 

Oh so luminous and illuminating

Like the extended banks of cloud that grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of periwinkle nuance.


Sometimes like a stray wisp of formed hues giving a dazzling view.

Like a choreography of notions.

His mere glance makes a reverberation dance.

Oh, so enlightening and sublime.

Drowning in the depth of his mind is like the waves of ocean and tides that allows free flow of thoughts. 


He is like a stroke of brush that embellishes a sheet of canvas and make it the most enchanting painting ever.

He is a loophole of lively memories that makes everything glow and gleam.

Oh, so lovely and heartwarming 

Like a soul made up of sunset, champagne and kisses. 


Sometimes he moves like a sibilant waves, sometimes like frantic waves.

Or the confined air that makes me lose my way into him.

Twirling into his trail of expressions and fluttering with childlike excitement.

Holding him wildly and adjusting myself  into his arms 

Makes me feel that I know him since sky begin to grew darker. 

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Sky as the poet and sun as his poetry are enlightening the surface of clouds with the golden hues

Opening the ripples of spectre grey hues.

Redecorating and rekindling the cloudy canopy.

And painting the memory of old beautiful autumn days.



Yet, the fallen leaves and blossom flowers are welcoming the season of frost and rime.

The mist upon the leaves is the awning of winter.

Spindled deep in the frost morning.

Like the string of lyre, 



The vacillation of mind is filled with the full hearted song of joy.

And the sweet melodious voice arose among the weakening eye of Day.

Yet, the lights and shades of dawn were fading away.



While, the dew upon the trunk of a tree is glistening the horizon 

Beneath the winter dregs 

The dazzling display of stars crisply whispered to night. 

Flew to and fro, shadows danced upon such rhyme.



Yet, the flames of fire beneath the fireplace were providing warmth.

Behind it the invisible net of tender night crunched among the soul.

All of a sudden the long extended clouds rose upon the horizon.

And yet again sky as the poet and sun as his poetry whispered to soul.

Image Source: Instagram


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