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Freelance Work

Hello dear readers and fellow bloggers, I have decided to try my hand at freelancing. Till now I didn’t have the time to freelance since I was focused on Mechanical Engineering, but now since I’ve decided to pursue my career in teaching, I have free time at my hand. Here I am sharing my ad, please feel free to give me tips on how to improve it (something I should add, subtract or is the price too high? too low?) as this is my first time posting an ad for anything ever! haha. Also, if you or someone you know wants to have a creative writing piece tailored to their needs, you can get in touch with me, I’ll be honored.

Here are the links to my ads: LINK 1 LINK 2

Featured post

Poem: September heart-to-hearts

A September evening at Upper Lake, Bhopal
“a generation lost in spacewith no time left to start again” – Don McLean (Miss American Pie)

Nine kids are playing and having fun,
sunkissed from September Sun.
A man comes and says to one:
‘Nine are the letters in September, son!’
Kid-one counts with his little fingers and his one little thumb
‘Old man, are you done?’ says kid-one.
‘It is my favorite month, little one’
says the old man with a grunt
‘It is mine too, it’s my birthday month’
says kid-two pointing her toy gun
‘Oh yes little miss it’s a popular birthday month
but, that’s not the reason why it’s my favorite one’.
Kid-three falls free from a tree and
sticks out his tongue,
pretending to be killed by the toy gun.
Kid-four, feeling bored, rummages in his little bag;
finds a cookie and says
‘Oh yeah! A cookie, I love my sweet mum!’

Old man’s wrinkled cheeks spread into a big one smile,
kids can fall from trees
kids can eat many (mum’s) cookies
and they can run miles.
Kid-five paddles his shiny red bike
flashing the sinking red Sun.
Kid six, the tiniest of all nine
trails behind his elder brother,
racing to outpace the shiny red bike;
failing, but trying.
”Oh, and there we were all in one place,
young and fine.
Like you kids,
we were also a group of nine.
Just a little older than you are,
we were in our prime.
We had dreams and we had time.
It was a September evening like this one
and the Upper River was as red as wine.
We were sitting on its bank
and having a heck of a time.
When one of us, Adam, abruptly started crying
Others fell silent at once, ‘cuz you see
Adam was all about the fun and energy.
He was the joker of our group you see
and that’s why I thought he was doing it mockingly.
After the sobs became more punctuated
by quick breathes and his chest inflated and deflated
and the Upper River grew louder in silence
Then the eight of us grew worried about Adam’s mental health
and wondered if he belonged in an asylum
because he did break the silence
but with the lyrics of a song by Don McLean
“We’re a generation lost in space,
with no time left to start again!
There we were all in one place
a generation lost in space
with no time left to start AGAIIIIN!’
He sang it over and over again until he began to cry again.
Like in class during a lecture
when someone farts and
even after the teacher scolds you kids
and tells you to stop
you can’t stop laughing,
that day, kids, Adam couldn’t stop crying.”
‘The old man stops and starts coughing’

‘Why was he crying,
was he dying,
I feel sad for Mr. Adam’ asks Kid-7,
with an almost adult frown upon her pale face
with no trace of any childish smile.
Kid-8 on the other hand,
buries his face in his hands.
He, apparently still hasn’t gotten over
that fart joke made by the old man.
”No, little missy, Adam wasn’t dying.
Though he said, in between sobs,
that he once had tried
‘to put an end to the misery, that is, his life
and I thought to myself
the Adam the eight of us (his closest friends) knew,
the Adam who mocks everyone in sight,
the Adam who makes awkward jokes to make a situation light,
the Adam who is fine,
has been replaced
and that, this new Adam is a whole new person
like a twin from another dimension.
So, he recited the lyrics again
and we listened to them the third time;
in the dying sunlight,
the river bank was deserted
and the sky was grey with spots like coffee-blights.
What was eating our old Mr. Adam was the fact
that eventually eats all living kinds
The fact that we are dying.
The fact that, even though we were young
And in our prime,we didn’t have all the time.
The fact that,
Our dreams will remain dreams till the end of our lives.
Mr. Adam thought he had lost
by choosing all the false solutions in his life.
And now he had no time to start over,
he couldn’t turn back time.
It was September the ninth.
I like to think of it as the best date in the whole calendar of 1979:
The day Adam turned our little gang of twenty-year-olds
into Adults.
Kids, the law knows nothing about being an adult;
people like Adam do.
I sympathize for Adams of the world.”
Kid-9 turns to the old man
and recites a rhyme
‘Old Mr. Adam was not feeling fine
so he whined and whined and whined and WHIIIINED!’
All the kids joined in
and the chorus made the old man chuckle.
Kids don’t fear the tomorrow
and they don’t have buckles between their mouth and tongue.
Being a kid is to live in the moment
and recite your mind out loud in the Sun.
‘Okay kids now you know,and I hope you’ll not forget
that being a kid is a blessing and also that you met
an old man who was dressed
in old-man-clothes
one September evening,
who babbled about September
and how it’s his favorite month,
who babbled about another old man,
some Mr. Adam,
I think you’ll understand Mr. Adam more
as you’ll get old,
and will remember
the old man who was dressed in old-man clothes
one September evening,who babbled about September
and how it’s his favorite month.’

                                    Dedicated to the Adams of the world

This was my first time writing a long poem. I care very much for the old man at its center. In a way he reminds me of my grandfather who now rests in peace.

I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it 😊
Lots of love ❤️



If you enjoyed the post don’t forget to like, comment and follow!

– © dixitmrityunjay, 2020. September heart-to-hearts.

Featured post

Horror Haibun: Waiting | Scifaikuest

Dear readers and fellow bloggers, the Contributor’s Copy of the Scifaikuest Print Magazine: 2021 Halloween Edition, arrived in the mail today. I’m so happy!

I didn’t receive the free contributor’s copy in 2021 due to some unknown reasons and I didn’t notify this problem to the editor or anyone else either, I just accepted the payment and forgot about it because I think I didn’t really care for it at the time. I was going through a rough patch and was thinking of dropping poetry altogether; really.

Things are looking up now, touchwood, and I’m pursuing my calling. So, 2 weeks ago, I dropped a message to the editor who accepted this piece at that time and requested them to send me a contributor’s copy if it’s available and affordable. I also told them that it’d be great to have my first-ever printed poem with me as I start my journey as a creative writer.

She was very supportive, and she obliged. Thus, the magazine arrived today. It’s full of other great horror haiku and haibun too, so it’s a bonus!

Haibun by M. Jay Dixit

I live alone in the dark land where time is just a myth and the Moon is my Sun, the clock of my timeless land, looking over me and my kind with its potent shine making our thirst stronger, a red hunger, as we lie in our silent bed places with cold comfy pillows and good dark all around, biding our hunger till it is at its full, Harvest Moon, the humans call it and how very veracious that is.

When the sun leaves the sky bruised and bloody and a red Moon like a drunkard’s eye rides the night piercing its darkness with silver knives, when the witches in forests sit by the fire to do moon magic and the scared children gather garlic buds in red cloths, we fly off from our centuries old coffins dressed as bats and crows. We never look back for our huger is ripest, blinding red stars shine in our eyes; they’re the last stars these delicious little humans see before blackness bites them with its sharp and hungry teeth.

hungry autumn moon
eats the east in its wide mouth
a big bat flies free

© M. Jay Dixit, September heart-to-hearts, 2021 All Rights Reserved

The Number Rhyme

Lovely woman, you're my talisman 
Eerie Januarys, worries and damns 
Ended, you revived dead passions
Naturally with your love again.
A divine fate, lucky friend. 

© M. Jay Dixit, September heart-to-hearts, 2023 All Rights Reserved


  • No more than 5 lines;
  • No more than 5 words per line;
  • You get points! Numberhyme points are calculated thus:
    • Every word that rhymes with any other word: 5 points;
    • If two rhyming words occur at the end of adjacent lines: 5 points;
    • The maximum possible: 145 (the idea is to maximize your points)

I came to know about this awesome little form of poetry through David’s blog. He’s a very creative fella who keeps experimenting with forms of poetry like crazy! Initially, I thought this form must be a well-known one, seeing it looks so professional and fun! But actually, Sangeetha of Mindfills is the creator of this awesome form! She and David have created lots of forms and poems together. Do check them both out if you haven’t already!


An acrostic poem is the one in which the first letter of each new line in the text spells out a word or message. So, my dear friend’s name, ‘Leena’ is hidden in that poem. This is the second poem I’ve written for her, to read the first one; please click here

Cover of Eminem’s Stan

Dear readers and fellow bloggers, I invite you to listen me sing/rap my all time favorite song.

I am a huge fan of Marshall. The first time I heard this song was when I was in class 7th, my uncle brought a CD and told me and my little brother to listen to it. That 13-year-old me would’ve never believed that one day he will be able to rap this good and tape over a karaoke of his favorite song in 1 take.

I love to do karaoke when I feel bored or stressed out, I’ve recorded the karaoke using my mobile mic, I haven’t used any music studio software to edit the audio either, I just played the karaoke on my stereo and started to sing/rap. The video is edited using Openshot Video Editor. It’s free and open source. I have included some of my own photos which I thought fitted the theme.

I hope you’ll enjoy my performance, feel free to leave comments!


My tea's gone cold. I'm wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window,
but I can't see at all.
Even if I could, it'd all be grey,
but you're picture on my wall.
It reminds me that it's not so bad, not so bad.

(Eminem as Stan)
Dear Slim, I wrote you, but you still ain't callin'.
I left my cell, my pager, and my home phone at the bottom.
I sent two letters back in autumn; you must not-a got 'em.
There probably was a problem at the post office or somethin'.
Sometimes, I scribble addresses too sloppy when I jot 'em,
but anyways, F- it. What's been up, man? How's you're daughter?
My girlfriend's pregnant, too, I'm about to be a father.
If I have a daughter, guess what I'ma call her?
I'ma name her Bonnie.
I read about your Uncle Ronnie,too. I'm sorry.
I had a friend kill himself over some chick who didn't want him.
I know you probably hear this everyday, but I'm your biggest fan.
I even got the underground stuff you did with Scam.
I got a room full of your posters and your pictures, man.
I like the stuff you did with Ruckus, too. That guy was fat.
Anyways, I hope you get this, man. Hit me back, just to chat.
Truly yours, your biggest fan.
This is Stan.

(Repeat chorus)

Dear Slim, you still ain't called or wrote. I hope you get a chance.
I ain't mad. I just think it's SCREWED UP that you don't answer fans.
If you didn't wanna talk to me outside your concert you didn't have to, but you coulda signed an autograph for Matthew.
He's my little brother, man. He's only six years old.
We waited in the blistering cold for you.
4 hours and you just said "No".
That's pretty crummy, man. You're like his favorite idol.
He wants to be just like you, man. He likes you more than I do.
I ain't that mad, though. I just don't like being lied to.
Remember when we met back in Denver, you said if I write you
you'd write back. See, I'm just like you in a way.
I never knew my father, neither.
He used to always cheat on my mom and beat her.
I can relate to what you're saying in your songs,
so when I have a crummy day, I drift away and put 'em on
cause I don't really got nothin' else
so that stuff helps when I'm depressed.
I even got a tattoo of your name across the chest.
Sometimes I even cut myself to see how much it bleeds.
It's like adrenaline. The pain is such a sudden rush for me.
See, everything you say is real, and I respect it cause you tell it.
My girlfriend's jealous cause I talk about you 24/7,
But she don't know you like I know you, Slim. No one does.
She don't know what it was like for people like us growin' up.
You gotta call me, man. I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose.
Sincerely yours, Stan
P.S. We should be together, too.

Repeat chorus

Dear Mr I'm-Too-Good-To-Call-Or-Write-My-Fans,
this'll be the last package I ever send your @$$.
It's been six months and still no word. I don't deserve it?
I know you got my last two letters.
I wrote the addresses on 'em perfect.
So this is my cassette I'm sending you. I hope you hear it.
I'm in the car right now. I'm doing 90 on the freeway.
Hey Slim, I drank a fifth of vodka. You dare me to drive?
You know that song by Phil Collins, "In the Air of the Night"
about that guy that coulda saved that other guy from drowning,
but didn't, then Phil saw it all, then later at a show he found 'em? That's kinda how this is. You coulda saved me from drowning.
Now it's too late, I'm on a thousand downers, now. I'm drowsy' and all I wanted was a lousy
letter or a call.
I hope you know I ripped ALL you're pictures off the wall.
I love you, Slim. We coulda been together; think about it.
You've ruined it, now. I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it
And when you dream, I hope you can't sleep and you SCREAM about it.
I hope you're conscience EATS at you and you can't BREATHE without me!
See Slim,(backround screaming) Shut up, slut! I'm tryin' to talk!
Hey Slim, that's my girlfriend screamin' in the trunk,
but I didn't slit her throat. I just tied her up. See I ain't like you cause if she suffocates she'll suffer more , then she'll die too.
Well, gotta go. I'm almost at the bridge, now.
Oh shoot, I forgot. How'm I supposed to send this tape out?!

(car tires squeal, CRASH, a brief silence, A LOUD splash)

(Repeat chorus)

(Eminem as Slim Shady)
Dear Stan, I meant to write you sooner, but I just been busy
You said you're girlfriend's pregnant, now. How far along is she?
Look, I'm really flattered you'd call you're daughter that.
And here's an autograph for Matthew. I wrote it on the Starter cap.
I'm sorry I didn't see you at the show. I musta missed you.
Don't think I did that stuff intenionally just to diss you.
But what's this you said about you like to cut you're wrists, too?
I say that stuff just clownin', dogg. C'mon, how messed up is you?
You got some issues, Stan. I think you need some councelin'
to help your butt from bouncin off the walls when you get down some.
And what's this about us meant to be together?
That type of junk will make me not want us to meet each other.
I really think you and your girlfriend need each other
or maybe you just need to treat her better.
I hope you get to read this letter. I just hope it reaches you in time before you hurt yourself. I think you'll be doin' just fine
if you relax a little. I'm glad I inspire you, but Stan,
why are you so mad? Try to understand that I do want you as a fan.
I just don't want you to do some crazy stuff.
I saw this one thing on the news a couple weeks ago that made me sick.
Some dude was drunk and drove his car over a bridge and had his girlfriend in the trunk, and she was pregnant with his kid.
And in the car they found a tape, but they didn't say who it was to.
Come to think about it. His name was... It was you.

Songwriters: Marshall B. Mathers, Dido Armstrong and Paul.Herman

Villanelle: Wednesday Walk

I walk streets of Bhopal, a child 
Smiles at me, right at me and waves. 
So innocent and orange, wild 

Colors of spring sunset, pile 
up in crazy patterns and waves. 
I walk streets of Bhopal, a child. 

An electric scooty passes me, very quiet-
-ly the Moon greets the Sun, she waves 
So innocent and orange, wild. 

Dad holding his twin daughters in each hand, mild-
-ly irritated, in their loving weight, he waves. 
I walk streets of Bhopal, a child. 

By the Royal Enfield Showroom, I 
See hairy dogs in sweaters, joyous waves, 
So innocent and orange, wild. 

A man on the horse, smiles 
As he passes a red city bus and waves. 
I walk streets of Bhopal, a child 
So innocent and orange, wild.

© M. Jay Dixit, September heart-to-hearts, 2023 All Rights Reserved

What is a Villanelle?

A villanelle is a poem of nineteen lines, and which follows a strict form that consists of five tercets (three-line stanzas) followed by one quatrain (four-line stanza). Villanelles use a specific rhyme scheme of ABA for their tercets, and ABAA for the quatrain. The first and third lines of the first tercet function as repeating refrains, which alternate as the final line of each subsequent tercet and appear again as the two final lines of the concluding quatrain. Although villanelles often do use meter, they don’t have to use any one type of meter in particular.

I fell in love with this form when I read “Mad Girl’s Love Song” by Sylvia Plath and “Do not go gentle into that good night” by Dylan Thomas. 

Wednesday Walks

A/N: I went for a walk yesterday and just wrote about it today in the morning, I love this form, this is my second Villanelle. To read my first one just click here.

I am thinking of making this a series, like I’ll write Villanelle every Thursday morning about my Wednesday Walks. Let me know if you think it’s a good idea?

also posted over at dverse: open link night

Tautogram: Give Peace a Chance

Prioritize peace! Pretty people,
passionate people, polite people
paranoid people, pessimistic people,
persistent people, petty people,
popular people, political people,
philosophical people, plucky people,
pro people, powerful people,
private people, perfect people,
procrastinating people, posing people,
poetry people, painting people,
precious people, potion people
problem people, prepared people,
proud people, pale people,
phenomenal people, puppet people,
police people, peaceful people.

© M. Jay Dixit, September heart-to-hearts, 2023 All Rights Reserved


The tautogram is best explained by its Greek root words of “tauto” meaning “the same” and “gramma” meaning “letter.” Basically, all words in the poem begin with the same letter.


As I said in my first post this year, “After all, the new-year-resolutions are for children who don’t know any better.” So, when in today’s dverse prompt, Punam kinda consoled us to not let ourselves down just because we couldn’t hold true to our “resolutions” past January, I decided to write about my only promise to myself this year. It’s to keep peace a priority. ☮️✌️

I made this for my Insta blog. Give Peace a Chance!

Featured art uploaded by Suzzane on Pinterest and made by Liza Oxley.

My favorite rockstar already had the answer!

Blogging on LinkedIn

Life Update: With blind luck, I landed an interview in a Health & Fitness app startup company, they needed a creative writer and a blogger, so I applied. After 3 interviews and a task they’ve shortlisted me for the final task which they’ll give tomorrow. Now, I thought to myself, what if, I sent my task to the CEO of the startup directly?

The CEO is also the same age as me and I’ve checked his social media out (it’s not stalking if the profiles are public!) he seems like a decent fella. So, after reviving my profile on LinkedIn, uploading my samples, writing a post, I am finally ready to send him a request and if he accepts it, then, I’ll send him my task.

In past couple of days, I’ve learned about blogging more than I’ve learned since I started blogging in 2020. Pooja’s website was a big help. She really gets it. She knows how it is for people like me, total noobs, to steer through the jungle of SEO and Meta Tags and Keyword Density and Site Audit and BLAH BLAH BLAH!

She’s doing god’s work, people. Go there and learn. Her posts are like gateways to this complex maze.

What I also learnt was that LinkedIn itself, provides bloggers like us, the connections with potential employers and clients. So, check that out too, if you’re interested in learning more.

I am new to this LinkedIn stuff, so if any of you guys can clue me in and give me suggestions please do. I would really appreciate it. Also, please check out my first LinkedIn post. It’s a modified, updated and crispier version of an old post of mine, Advice for Students on How to Stop Procrastination, those of you who read it, you really motivated me to write more like that. So, today, I’ve done it. I would always be thankful to this community for the spark it gave me, love you guys!

My LinkedIn Profile:

A poem for you, boo.

'Preciate me, I deserve respect! You selfish pudding! 
Opened my heart and lost my mind on you, moon. 
Enough with the evil tones, my sunset. 
Torture, torment, twist and turns, turn me on. 
Rainfalls and cold winds are kind of our thing 
You, my darling, are a sadist and I'm in love with you.

Acrostic Poem

An acrostic poem is the one in which the first letter of each new line in the text spells out a word or message.

© M. Jay Dixit, September heart-to-hearts, 2023 All Rights Reserved

M. Jay Dixit, March 2020

A/N: I wrote this poem a few hours after attending my grandpa’s funeral. This is the first poem I wrote for someone. Up until that point, all my poems were fictional/inspired by muses.

Song Cover: Bob Dylan’s ‘To Ramona’

Dear readers and fellow bloggers, I invite you to listen me sing: To Ramona by Bob Dylan

I love this song very much, I think it is underrated. I couldn’t find any karaoke for this song on YouTube but I didn’t let that stop me, I used an AI to separate the instrumental from the official audio of the song and then I sang over it by watching the lyrics on Bob Dylan’s official website.

I love to do karaoke when I feel bored or stressed out, I’ve recorded this audio using my mobile mic, I haven’t used any music studio software to edit the audio either, I just played the instrumental on my stereo and started to sing. I hope you’ll enjoy my performance, please feel free to leave comments!


To Ramona

Come closer
Shut softly your watery eyes
The pangs of your sadness
Shall pass as your senses will rise
The flowers of the city
Though breathlike
Get deathlike at times
And there’s no use in tryin’
T’ deal with the dyin’
Though I cannot explain that in lines

Your cracked country lips
I still wish to kiss
As to be under the strength of your skin
Your magnetic movements
Still capture the minutes I’m in
But it grieves my heart, love
To see you tryin’ to be a part of
A world that just don’t exist
It’s all just a dream, babe
A vacuum, a scheme, babe
That sucks you into feelin’ like this

I can see that your head
Has been twisted and fed
By worthless foam from the mouth
I can tell you are torn
Between stayin’ and returnin’
On back to the South
You’ve been fooled into thinking
That the finishin’ end is at hand
Yet there’s no one to beat you
No one t’ defeat you
’Cept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad

I’ve heard you say many times
That you’re better ’n no one
And no one is better ’n you
If you really believe that
You know you got
Nothing to win and nothing to lose
From fixtures and forces and friends
Your sorrow does stem
That hype you and type you
Making you feel
That you must be exactly like them

I’d forever talk to you
But soon my words
They would turn into a meaningless ring
For deep in my heart
I know there is no help I can bring
Everything passes
Everything changes
Just do what you think you should do
And someday maybe
Who knows, baby
I’ll come and be cryin’ to you

Copyright © 1964 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1992 by Special Rider Music

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