16 Literary/Writing-related terms every writer should know

Once the world was perfect by Joy Harjo | Poetry

Once the world was perfect, and we were happy in that world.

Then we took it for granted.

Discontent began a small rumble in the earthly mind.

Then Doubt pushed through with its spiked head.

And once Doubt ruptured the web,

All manner of demon thoughts

Jumped through—

We destroyed the world we had been given

For inspiration, for life—

Each stone of jealousy, each stone

Of fear, greed, envy, and hatred, put out the light.

No one was without a stone in his or her hand.

There we were,

Right back where we had started.

We were bumping into each other

In the dark.

And now we had no place to live, since we didn’t know

How to live with each other.

Then one of the stumbling ones took pity on another

And shared a blanket.

A spark of kindness made a light.

The light made an opening in the darkness.

Everyone worked together to make a ladder.

A Wind Clan person climbed out first into the next world,

And then the other clans, the children of those clans, their children,

And their children, all the way through time—

To now, into this morning light to you.

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Angora goes in search of the red diamond | Toodles Meaning | Learn Throu...

Thousands of years ago, there was an enchanted forest. Within the two sections of the forest lived two clans – one water clan and the other fire clan. One day the prince of the fire clan, Angora fell in love with Mimisiki, the princess of the water clan. But both Mimisiki’s and Angora’s fathers were against their marriage. The two fathers carved a boundary line in the forest so Angora and Mimisiki could never meet each other again. Drenched in deep sorrow, Mimisiki stopped eating food and even drinking water. She couldn’t enjoy her life anymore. She sat all day at a foothill watching sunrise and sunrise, refusing to meet anyone. On the other side, Angora too was spending his days in pain and anguish. He would spend his days in the battleground, often exercising his muscles beyond his threshold so that he ended up with bleeding and wounds on his body. Seeing the intense suffering of both lovers, their moms tried to convince their fathers to allow them to marry each other. Finally, Mimisiki’s father agreed to allow their marriage but on one condition. Angora had to visit the dark forest of the dead and bring the “red diamond” from the cave of this forest. Angora agreed to bring the red diamond. Before he left home, he walked to the boundary line to see Mimisiki. Teary-eyed, he said to her, “Toodles!” She smiled and replied, “Toodles!” The word Toodles means “see you later.”

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Boulevard of Broken Hearts | Poem by Neha's Notebook

 

A teardrop trickles down my eyelash

And adds a trail of glisten on my cheek

As I remember the way we used to be

Enchanting paradise, unlike this moment bleak

Never did I think

That one day we would be apart

That one day, we will spend our days

Living in the boulevard of broken hearts

 

I have loved the season of rain all my life

But never did I think, one day it’d be the rain of tears

My body grew into an adult, and I changed

But I never knew the change could mean burying our love under medleys of shames and fears

Day after day, the heartbreak turned us into frozen mannequins

The crusty pieces of which, keep on collapsing and falling apart

Making me recall over and over

That I am living in the boulevard of broken hearts

 

All that remains of a primal fantasy

Is a droplet of cold, empty darkness

I cannot even comprehend where did the gravity vanish

And how we ended up in such a mess

How we vanquished our own flames

And landed in buggies loaded with dustcarts

Why did we never question

That why are we living in the boulevard of broken hearts

 

Often times as I shuffle through

My old boxes of pintucks, crayons, and paper clips

A fond memory emerges from the velvet casket

A crumpled paper scrap reminds me how you used to scribble funny poems about my rosebud lips

How you recited the poetry of Tagore and Rumi

into my sweet slumberous sleep

And how Amazon’s CEO

gifted us dozens of jewelry boxes after we saved his rainforest jeep

But soon after the twilight, a wizard stole our light

And we became living lifeless pieces of plastic art

Our wells of ebullience and passion leeched barren

And our land discolored into the ashy boulevard of broken hearts

 

Tethered like strangled beasts

We waddle and trod angrily inside buckets of human skin

There seems no ray of light in the dark

Unless we find a way, or a djinn

Gone are the days of laughing under starry nights

Now, we are just piecharts of heartbreak from finish to start

Lest we find each other once again

Which seems impossible in the boulevard of broken hearts

 

Maybe that’s the way life is supposed to be sweetheart

 

Maybe we are all supposed to spend our lives

Living in separation inside this boulevard of broken hearts

Or maybe there is a way, no one knows

Of becoming alive and healing the boulevard of broken hearts

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Woman Gets Angry At Her Servant | Nincompoop Meaning | Learn Through Sto...

In the story “The Bishop’s Candlesticks” by Norman McKinnel, the bishop’s sister named Persome gets angry at her house maiden named Marie, because Marie keeps on responding with “Yes Madam” to whatever she says. In an enraged mood, Persome commands her to stop talking like a parrot and calls her out by the word “nincompoop.” Nincompoop means a “foolish, stupid, or halfwit person.”

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Lola Wants Grapes | Malcontent Meaning | Learn Through Stories #stories

Once Lola cat visited a shop and asked the shopkeeper for some grapes. The shopkeeper said he only sold oranges and didn’t have any grapes. She walked away only to return to the shop again the next day. This time she again asked him for grapes. The shopkeeper felt puzzled. He repeated that he didn’t have any grapes and he sold only oranges. Lola walked away but reappeared at the shop the next day. This kept on going for several days. Finally, the shopkeeper took Lola to a grapes shop and bought her a box of grapes. As he extended the box towards her, she squirmed her nose and said, she would prefer oranges instead. The shopkeeper clenched his head in frustration at the malcontent cat. Malcontent refers to someone who is not satisfied with the way things are, and who complains a lot and is always unreasonable and difficult to deal with.

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The Christmas Song 🎄🌠🎅 | Poem by Neha's Notebook

Mind my absence but I was too busy

Loading Santa’s bags with gifts and goodies

Fleets of Rolls Royce and Ferraris

And zillions of glittery green tinsel trees

In one bag, I tossed dozens of Cheetos and chips

Not to forget freshly grated blocks of mozzarella cheese

 

For girls I added velvet boxes of Tiffany’s bracelets,

Bangles, earrings, and diamond rings

Don’t tell the dentist but I also packed

Hoards of candies, cookies, and chocolatey things

Bouquets of fresh flowers are also there

For those who wish to have an early spring

 

In case you’re wondering what will happen

To your thighs when you eat all these fries and sweets

Let me tell you that this year Santa will also bring

Treadmills and dumbbells for Gen Alpha and Gen Zees

But as far as the Christmas cake is concerned

Don’t skip it I beg you please

 

Then I couldn’t stop myself from placing

A casket of emotions and a book of John Keats poetry in Santa’s buggy

Calling out all those who like to have

Love-filled Christmas evenings huggy huggy

Logs to light the fireplace and ornaments clinking and jangling

With all these presents, I hope you won’t act snobbish or sluggy

 

Lastly what’s most astonishing is Santa’s last sack

is not a Rolls Royce, a box of choco-chip cookies or some antique thrift

Instead within this giant sparkly purple pouch

I hopped and placed myself as Santa’s gift

This sack is for the lucky one who wished for me upon a Christmas candle

I am curious to see the look on their face when they notice this twist!

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Kiara's Mole | Wabi Sabi Meaning | Learn Through Stories #stories

Ever since she was born, Kiara had a mole on her cheek. This mole often caught the attention of some of her classmates who made fun of her, oftentimes humiliating her in front of the entire classroom. Most of the days, she would come home crying. Over time she started hating school. She would make excuses to avoid going to school. Then one day, her mom sat down beside her, and told her something. She opened a drawer and pulled out a scrapbook that Kiara had crafted during her school’s summer vacation. As she flipped through her scrapbook’s pages, she told Kiara to pay attention to how its pages were decorated with nothing but scraps and waste materials. Dried leaves and flowers, ripped paper pieces, old fabric scraps, buttons, empty refills and other materials. She said the scrapbook wouldn’t have been as beautiful as it was with these scraps. She told Kiara that just like these scraps, the mole on her cheek made her uniquely beautiful. Sometimes, it’s the imperfections of life that make life beautiful. This is called “Wabi sabi,” which means “flawed beauty” or “embracing the imperfections of life,” “seeing the beauty in imperfections.”

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Aimless Love by Billy Collins

 

This morning as I walked along the lake shore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.

In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.

This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.

The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.

No lust, no slam of the door—
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.

No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor—
just a twinge every now and then

for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.

But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.

After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,

so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.
I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone.

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