Poetry frees the soul and this freedom tastes like flowers: wild and blooming, beautiful and growing. Join me as I free my soul by reciting my poetry and prose.
Freedom Tastes Like Flowers
Claim This Podcastby Ashka Naik
19 episodes
Updated Daily
Accepts GuestsHas Sponsors
Podcast Overview
Poetry frees the soul and this freedom tastes like flowers: wild and blooming, beautiful and growing. Join me as I free my soul by reciting my poetry and prose.
Language
🇺🇲
Publishing Since
6/18/2020
1 verified contact email on file for Freedom Tastes Like Flowers
Pitch yourself as a guest, propose sponsorships, or reach out directly to the host.
Recent Episodes
March 2, 2022
Summertime
<p>I've been trying to feel the way you would feel things: </p> <p>Unafraid of building homes in people, </p> <p>until they begin to feel like roots that hold you down. </p> <p>Restlessly making goals without plans, </p> <p>and goals without plans are just dreams, </p> <p>so that's what I have: just dreams. </p> <p>Your love for meals half-cooked, </p> <p>and fights half-fought </p> <p>follows me into every new life I step in. </p> <p>I'm writing songs for my plants in your absence </p> <p>just in case you're watching, </p> <p>because I want you to know: </p> <p>I'm living the life you left behind in me. </p> <p>But just in case you think </p> <p>I can't love anything anymore without thinking of you, </p> <p>I want you to know that right now we're close to summer, </p> <p>and the flowers keep blooming in my front yard </p> <p>as relentlessly as the ringing absence </p> <p>of your apology when you left, </p> <p>and they're making it hard for me to think of things </p> <p>as complicated as sadness and anger and you. </p> <p>But I've been trying to feel the way you would feel things, </p> <p>so I suppose it's okay if I take a moment and rest, </p> <p>because I know I'll fall in love again </p> <p>come every summertime... </p> <p>like you. </p> <p>© Ashka Naik</p>
December 22, 2021
Alone on a Park Bench
<p>This evening I sat alone on a park bench, Clair de Lune pouring into my ears, rain breeze softening as she leaned into the curve of my neck. </p> <p>I sat looking unintently at the trees stretched out far beyond me, leaves swaying in grace as though Clair de Lune was pouring onto them too. </p> <p>I sat unintently as the big birds flew home, followed by the small ones, and everything was music. Everything. </p> <p>And I wondered for a second if I was finally comfortable with this overwhelming feeling of being alone in the universe. Of being one with the universe. But then I noticed the empty space next to me. If you were here, this would be perfect. Wouldn't it? No missing pieces. </p> <p>Mother says I pay too much attention to the details. That this is how I pluck misery off of the unwitting tree of existence, and stuff it in a drawer to rot. Because that is what misery is: a dying wish. Irreversible. Malignant. Perpetual. </p> <p>Mother doesn't know the details are an art. The details are the only reason to stay alive in a world where everything is measured in categories. </p> <p>But this evening I sat alone on a park bench, Claire de Lune pouring into my ears, rain breeze softening as she leaned into the curve of my neck. You weren't there but the piano notes sat next to me curved into the shape where you should be. Everything was music. Everything. </p> <p>I can't wait to go home and place this evening into my drawer.</p>
November 13, 2021
Maa: From Woman to Sacrifice
My mother has a habit of stopping and stooping over to mourn every smashed flower she sees on the sidewalk, and if you try to ask her why, she will purse her lips and stand up with a sharp inhale, open her mouth twice, and quickly walk away, giving you your first lesson in how to be a perfect stranger : never say anything that ends with a question mark. My mother still owns every single pair of baby shoes that she spent her youth chasing with her dainty, friable feet. She says that they remind her that the smallest of things in life are the only things that matter, and the only things that fade as quickly as time fades, and in the end, you are only lucky if they leave a few memories for you to curl up with in the night. My mother stopped buying expensive diaries the night my brother was born. Her lips are bruised with the weight of sleeping novels that gather dust inside her mouth, but she'd rather spend all her nights singing lullabies to help her baby sleep, than writing poems to help herself sleep. My mother raised herself to be an artist, but now she strays away from the paint section in stationery shops and pretends to not know the difference between red and crimson when I ask her what color the dying sky was the evening she wed my father. She shakes her head as though it wasn't just the sky that died a crimson death that day, it was the artist inside her too. A mythical legend that only colors inside the lines now and walks like her feet are stuck within a stencil. A thing that ends with a question mark. A smashed flower on the sidewalk.
19 total episodes available
Deep-dive analytics for Freedom Tastes Like Flowers
Frequently asked questions
Have a different question and can't find the answer you're looking for? Reach out to our support team by sending us an email and we'll get back to you as soon as we can.
- What is Freedom Tastes Like Flowers?
- How often does this podcast release new episodes?
This podcast updates daily.
- Where can I listen to this podcast?
This podcast is available on 4 platforms including Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and more. You can also use the RSS feed directly.
- Does this podcast accept guests?
No, this podcast does not typically feature guests.
Legal Disclaimer
Pod Engine is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or officially connected with any of the podcasts displayed on this platform. We operate independently as a podcast discovery and analytics service.
All podcast artwork, thumbnails, and content displayed on this page are the property of their respective owners and are protected by applicable copyright laws. This includes, but is not limited to, podcast cover art, episode artwork, show descriptions, episode titles, transcripts, audio snippets, and any other content originating from the podcast creators or their licensors.
We display this content under fair use principles and/or implied license for the purpose of podcast discovery, information, and commentary. We make no claim of ownership over any podcast content, artwork, or related materials shown on this platform. All trademarks, service marks, and trade names are the property of their respective owners.
While we strive to ensure all content usage is properly authorized, if you are a rights holder and believe your content is being used inappropriately or without proper authorization, please contact us immediately at hey@podengine.ai for prompt review and appropriate action, which may include content removal or proper attribution.
By accessing and using this platform, you acknowledge and agree to respect all applicable copyright laws and intellectual property rights of content owners. Any unauthorized reproduction, distribution, or commercial use of the content displayed on this platform is strictly prohibited.