Birithivy Yogaratnam
Stories (42/0)
Love
Love, luminous, lovely, love. Lavishly luxurious, loveably learned. Look, lovers. Love loves love. Love likens learners. Love likens luminance. Love loves liberation. Love leads, linked like larks. Love launches limitlessly. Luxuriously lenient. Love lives long, love longs like labyrinths. Love liberates lives. Love loves love.
By Birithivy Yogaratnamabout a year ago in Poets
Sunlight
Serenading sunshine sprightly shines shores. Some sparkling shiny sun, showering shimmering soulful sunlight southbound. Sumptuous, stimulating, seemingly sparkly. Societal's serendipitous smiles sweetly savoured some sun. Successfully soothing, so succulent, so sensationalistic. Shimmery sunlight, so super, so sweet. Sunlight, synergy splendidly sustained.
By Birithivy Yogaratnamabout a year ago in Poets
Thrill
Thrill time. Thriving thrill takers take tasks tenaciously. Thankful thoughts thrive. Tall tasks trailblazing, through trials to tribulations. The totality together, tirelessly taken. Time to try, time to take tomorrow, today. Thrilling thrillers, tough to transform. Though, treasure the thrill. Tis time to take the thrill, triumphantly, trying to take the trophy to thrill.
By Birithivy Yogaratnamabout a year ago in Poets
Fiery
Fiery flames flung forward. Fire fights fearlessly from floccinaucinihilipilification flames. For few fellows, fire flashily formed. From fundamentally focused feuds, fortuitous fortune formed. Fervent fantasies fueled fire, for fire fueled formidable foes.
By Birithivy Yogaratnamabout a year ago in Poets
Perfect!
Please, perfect? Plausible? Possibly! Paramount possibilities! Palatable panacea, perpetual progress. Paradise, perhaps. Problems petered past. Perfection pleases people. Perfection propagates poetry. Phenomenally peaceful, particularly passionate. Pivotally poignance, placidlly picturesque. Philosophically praiseworthy, persuasively polite. Perfection, perfection, perfection. Perfectly prophetic, purely perfect.
By Birithivy Yogaratnamabout a year ago in Poets
The Broken Reflection
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. I saw it, in the mirror. It was in the old house on the abandoned side of town. Everyone in this suburb left in a hurry, some chased away by the costs of them, some because of the distance from the city that they worked at. But the main reason was more sinister: there was a serial killer that was shot dead in one of the homes. It was a huge scene: the cops surrounded the home of what was going to be the 66th victim of the serial killer, who was dubbed "The Night Shadow" by social media. The killer resisted arrest, and was promptly shot down by the squad of cops. The ongoing fervor from this situation was not helped by the rising cases of people going missing in the neighbourhood. Within 5 years, this once thriving neighbourhood was now unofficially quarantined off, restricted by anyone and everyone around the suburb. No one would even dare drive 5 minutes away from there. It was astonishing, really. There was an urban legend that had risen that said that The Night Shadow killer was still alive, or that the soul of the killer presided in that home. Mysterious things began to happen to people who went to the open houses for the home, or for those who trespassed and wanted to catch a thrill by exploring the haunted home. Some of the urban legends said that people drove themselves insane, disappeared, changed mentally and physically, and would lose their senses after visiting the home. Some even said the mirror that was left in the room where the killer was killed was haunted. Me and my friends didn't believe so, so we went to check ourselves.
By Birithivy Yogaratnamabout a year ago in Horror
Fly Over
My life has been simple: be given a message, tied to my leg, and I fly to my destination to deliver it. Ever since I can remember, I've always been doing this. I've seen the world more than anyone else probably. The way I just fly over the land, observing what goes down below, and how things change over time, amazes me. Like my fellow birds, I get to see from above. I get a perspective and viewpoint that very few get to see. It is something that I thoroughly enjoy.
By Birithivy Yogaratnamabout a year ago in Fiction
Another Moment Of Love
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. In this world, they say the purple clouds brings back the souls of our loved ones once a year. Once the colour changes, their souls go back to rest, disappearing until the next year the phenomenon decides to happen. No one knows how this occurs and when it decides to. But no one has ever tried to find out. It seemed as though people just wanted to have solace and comfort with their loved ones, and didn't need any explanations or scientific reasoning behind it.
By Birithivy Yogaratnamabout a year ago in Fiction