Tag: goodbye

I Want a Divorce

by Ninagracia, posted in Quiet Verses

A Smile in Rhyme

Welcome to A Smile in Rhyme—a collection of gentle, rhythmic poems inspired by everyday life. Here, peaceful moments meet musical flow, and simple experiences become bright, lyrical reflections—always with a hint of warmth and a smile. Settle in, take your time, and enjoy the rhythm.

There is always something to celebrate each month. April highlights a variety of global events aimed at raising awareness. The National Couple Appreciation Month encourages taking time to cherish romance and companionship. Similarly, on April 18, couples observe Husband Appreciation Day through simple gestures. But why celebrate twice when we can both celebrate these occasions together? 

On the other hand, if you’re in a relationship and wondering where all the romance has gone, and you’re no longer enjoying each other’s company, relax and have a bit of fun in a light-hearted and enjoyable way, just for a laugh.

Originally written as a university assignment, this poem has been revisited and reworked with extra cheek and playful spirit, and just a hint of mischief. It delivers a humorous list of complaints–some petty, some exaggerated, all recognisable to anyone who has loved long enough to be annoyed. Despite its dramatic title, it’s all in good fun–mostly. Not to be taken seriously or meant to offend anyone, but–ouch!! Sorry if we hurt your feelings.

I Want a Divorce

From the series: A Smile in Rhyme

Here’s a list of many things collected over the years with you
Thirty years I’ve worn this ring—and still, you’ve got no clue.
You’ll be pleased (so don’t be pissed), I’ve trimmed the harshest bits
So, let’s just kiss and say goodbye before you read my list:

For a start—whenever you eat, there’s a tuneful little moan
The crunch of crispy fries rings out in quite a piercing tone.
That juicy steak? A roaring sound—you’re in a world of your own
Are you choking, passing wind—or putting on a show?

Your playful baby talk is sweet—but also irritating
You pick your nose and flick your hands—completely nauseating!
And when you fart, it sounds as though a bomb is detonating
Your snore? A rolling thunderstorm—relentless, aggravating.

Tell me, am I seeing things—I sometimes count you two
Your jeans are feeling tighter now, ease up on beer and stew.
You’ve grown a little softer—yes, I’m talking about you,
And all those trips you make to the loo—I’ve noticed those things too.

And if you try to read my mind, don’t hover near my face,
Unless you’ve brushed your teeth—or rinsed with something with a taste.
I saved the “lust” for last—my final, winning case
But now it’s gone completely—please, give that whine a rest.

It’s not me—it’s truly you, so now we say goodbye,
Don’t be shy, and please don’t cry—have chai, my honey-pie.

Thanks for reading! Did this poem make you sincerely smile? If you’ve ever silently judged someone’s snore or a “tuneful moan, “you’re in good company”.

Till next time.

Cheers,

Images from:
https://www.nicepng.com
https://www.cleanpng.com

A Gentle Goodbye to 2025

by Ninagracia, posted in In the Margins, Writing

In a few hours, 2025 will come to a close. Some of us go through the usual rituals of reflecting on our achievements, setbacks, and regrets. We don’t just look back; we consider the lessons we’ve learned, the habits, and the beliefs that no longer serve us.

As we wait for the dust to settle and the year comes to a close, I softly bid farewell to 2025, without drama or resentment. I find myself looking back not with urgency but to recognise what it taught me, what I got wrong or messed up, what I got right, and what I experienced.



Dear 2025

You didn’t arrive with fireworks or a dramatic shift. Instead, you fitted into the background of our everyday life, quietly through familiar routines, sharing meals, having small chats, and the presence of family. At that time, it seemed ordinary, but as I stand on the brink of a new year, I understand your purpose. You came without shouting your lessons, which were hidden in its stillness. You taught me a lesson about being patient, about learning to wait for things to open up without force, because growth is sometimes about staying, enduring, and being at ease where you are.

As I leave and finally say goodbye, I am not taking everything with me. I will go with gratitude for what you have offered, and for what you withheld, and quiet hope for what lies ahead. Some burdens have been carried long enough — they can now be laid down. What I will bring forward is gratitude for those ordinary days that quietly wove themselves into something steady and reassuring. For a year that asked little of me yet gave me space to breathe. 

This isn’t a dramatic farewell, but a gentle closing of a chapter—an appreciation for a year that offered quiet grace instead. I move into what’s next, not reinvented, but softly realigned, lighter than before, and quietly hopeful.

I’m not starting over—just carrying on, a bit lighter and a little wiser.