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  • alxita 1d

    Update 3

    Hello! Welcome back me. Once again, I apologize for being very inactive lately. School is still ongoing, along with their onslaught of projects. Thankfully, it is only more than a week left before we finally see the blue sky.

    So I may post a new poem around tomorrow or the day after, and try posting regularly as early as this week; otherwise I still have to continue with my projects.

    Thank you! Happy writing and have a great day.

    ©alxita

  • alxita 2w

    "bloom in the ice" is another old poem here on Mirakee which I remade! I do desire to remake more of my old poems soon, and I also want to read everyone's posts, but I cannot find the proper time right now due to ongoing projects.

    Anyway, good day & happy writing. ��



    #alx_poems #mirakee
    @writersnetwork

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    bloom in the ice

    White winter-kills of March
    Blue, numb fingers today;
    Prose in my mouth faded
    Into the snowflakes of gray

    Trees naked with no hands
    Warm enough to thaw the cold,
    Weeping as the ghosts at night
    And as no golden rays behold

    Grass suffocated in demise,
    Critters burrow back to darkness,
    Nascent beings go back in time
    To fall off the cliff's unsteadiness

    Pale voids of the vision,
    Conifers dress up in snow,
    Breaths turn into thin smoke,
    And silence as we know

    And dangers flock out for prey
    'Til midnight hushes the landscape;
    A body lingers in the haze
    Of snowstorms as we gape

    Where shall you dwell long
    Having the Winter betray you?
    In the permafrost of frozen time,
    Shall it be a miracle to prove?

    Where shall your spirit go
    Having been astray long enough?
    In the palest voids of eternity,
    An unhappy flower blooms rough.

    Poem no. 42
    3.29.21
    ©alxita

  • alxita 2w

    "forsaken" is an old poem here on Mirakee which I remade! I will be remaking my old poems with my current tongue ❤

    It is a one-week vacation for us, but hell it still is to have 3 more projects to work on! Good luck me...


    #alx_poems #mirakee
    @todayis @writersnetwork

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    forsaken

    Beauty shrills quiet by the road
    Where rusty vehicles avoid;
    The land bided much to erode
    Across the view destroyed.

    The heavens talk no more,
    Filaments of the past meadows,
    Dry as the eyelids O' before
    When a fantasy he bestows

    Tonight, only and will be one,
    Tasting as coffee extra bitter,
    Treasured clouds are now gone
    From here in my tattered sweater

    No more flowers by the side
    And in crevices of no asphalt;
    You are alone in your ride
    Along the woods of no halt

    Tonight, merely a coincidence
    It is to limn our wish once more;
    Closed gates and truths then,
    Forsaken are we as folklore.


    Poem no. 41
    3.28.21
    ©alxita

  • alxita 2w

    Inactive once again :]
    So today is gonna be ONE year since I first started in Mirakee. Wow! Time flew by fast... I made so much friends here and I made sooo much poetry that I am proud of (I am not deleting them ❤)

    I gotta say, the app changed quite a bit, but I am still grateful to this app and the community, for if I have never stepped on this wonderful land, I would've always been in my solitary bubble.

    Anyway, here are some of the great lines that I have made (not all are included tho...)

    I am still busy today! Honestly I cannot srite with all this homework! Have a great day everyone ❤❤❤

    - alxita

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    [anniversary post]

    "Pass the infected water,
    For which lies were stirred better."
    - Pass The Blame [Mar. 26, 2020]

    "Say me bad, heart aches
    Treat me bad, heart breaks
    Tears flow out, it isn't normal
    I feel like I could, at anytime, fall."
    - Fragile Heart [Mar. 26, 2020]

    Rhythm lacked, dissonance hacked
    The normal systems of my everyday tracks
    - Dissonance [Apr. 11, 2020]

    The tears flowing out aren't the same
    And here I am again, feeling hopeless and lame
    As if the transient time is stepping above me
    On the floor facing that dysfunctional me
    - Dysfunctional Me [Apr. 27, 2020]

    Crass attitudes, insecure attitudes
    Secure when together, broken when never
    Fly like feathers, dry in the deserts
    Use when better, throw away bitter
    - When The Rivers Would Flow [May 1, 2020]

    Society is unwavered, as they fool themselves
    With erroneous ideas they'd gratefully yelp
    - Indoctrination [May 3 ,2020]

    When nowhere's presence persists, failure exists gladly
    - Maze [May 15, 2020]

    And the house with its emptiness stands still
    Lying undisturbed as the winds continue its deep shrills
    - Windy Day [May 25, 2020]

    The monotonous petals gather as the orchestra
    Chanting the encomiums for the tears in dystopia
    - Petals I've Shed [May 27, 2020]

    But, reality has moved on, we haven't moved on
    We should change our principles as our old skins begone
    - We All Bleed [Jun. 4, 2020]

    Sobriquets sing a seraph of somnolence
    Etiquettes and erred epitaphs of evidence
    Pragmatic prides perfervid of posterity
    Talismanic tides tenebrific to the truancy
    Embellishments effervesce and effloresce
    Moments make milestones all in masses
    Bepainting bohemian beaks that're back
    Elating with echt euphonies that we enact
    Relating and realizing rectitudes we react
    - 9.4 [Jun. 17, 2020] My favorite poem!

    When ink stains gold, values decay
    Gold stains ink? Truthful and they stay
    Arrogance blooms in the stale wine
    - Gold and Spilled Ink [Jul. 2, 2020]

    I can't afford to invest my effort in someone that will never pay back the gratitude.
    - Wish you six feet down [Jul. 30, 2020]

    Dear oh dear! The stone paths down the road, soused by the transparent raindrops, it has all dried by the time the final rays of vermillion sunset shone.
    - Kaffeeklatsch [Aug. 12, 2020]

    I regress to the oldest centuries
    Just like photos saying we
    And an exodus comes hitting me
    - Exodus [Aug. 24, 2020]

    Am I another self, for glass came black
    When caves have spoken near my senses drowned
    Till dawn and dawdled, lores when I came back
    All felt a tingly shade bedaubed with frown
    - Am I Another Self [Dec. 2, 2020]

    Somersaulting to the ends of the year
    When we've held our brittleness more dear;
    - air of ambrosia [Jan. 1, 2021]

    Off my mossy fauteuil
    Auburn hair so Byzantine
    'Tis the season of the quill
    To utter Da Vinci whilst keen
    - dice and shooting stars

    O stiletto from His limb,
    Akin to the most Arctic vale;
    Trust thee 'til I grow numb
    To the caravansary in ail
    - the last winter would be you

    I told the past that
    He made me the one
    To be the soul walking now;
    In the indescribable upon,
    I told all of my selves
    That each has a value of itself
    In spokenness we avow
    - infinity in one time frame

    And I, swallowing anvils of my own,
    I know nothing could've made him go
    More than His will to claim what he sowed,
    And I'm a frail ghost town waiting
    For his arrival once more, whilst alone
    - ghost town

    Like a story book flashing dreams;
    Birds of memory having owed
    To the nest of quaint fragments
    Dormant evermore in the abode
    - your story (Favorite stanza EVER)

    ©alxita

  • alxita 3w

    a world without books

    Closet flames dormant
    Black, balmy poison tonight
    Stolen lyrics of clinquant
    In the unhappy night.

    No more words uttered
    Closed doors and steel walls
    Wishes echo no better
    Than a feather in the squall

    Dirty letters left bemired
    Wounds left bleeding more
    Tears clogged in the gyres
    Of angry tides in the core

    Unspoken dreams left fading
    In the lulls of emptiness
    And poignant feelings dulling
    Under the weather of illness

    A world without books
    Would be trapping the mind
    In the dark room where time
    Stays by the line

    A world without books
    Is just a face without feelings
    A dream without meaning,
    And darkness without knowing

    They are the gateways of freedom
    The comfort of our pain
    The paths of finding reasons
    Within our littlest reign

    They are the ink of our life
    Easing the darkness inside
    Our very lyrics as rife
    As the doves' azure they fly

    The world would be illiterate
    Without literature no different
    Than the very spirit of our mind
    Society will only ever find


    Poem no. 40
    3.21.21
    ©alxita

  • alxita 3w

    hushed wells

    The well full of knives hurt;
    Isn't it a stream of burning words
    Clawing against the burrow
    Of fragility unheard?

    Bells and whistles on front,
    All behind and it must be their grunt
    Seeping in the glass atmosphere
    Where I never cohere

    Yet a mood dangled this night,
    Hollow heavens of emptiness,
    Sweet mizzle of dusty frights
    Glazing while naked in frailness

    It hurts even if no blood remains,
    Swallow fire in disdain,
    Gulping the guilt of another
    Having owed no verdict to theirs

    Deep blues in your corridor
    And a soul quivers in folklore,
    Those little marks on the bark
    Led nowhere in the fars

    I was led by a winding fairy
    Only to get more lost than before;
    Must it always be my inner tree
    Lecturing me by the core

    And I rest no assuringly,
    For my wells won't speak back
    I ailed for nil pennies,
    Counting none in the shack

    Therefore I submit to the south
    With the weight in my mouth.


    Poem no. 39
    3.20.21
    ©alxita

  • alxita 4w

    This follows after "ashes" ♡
    "phone number" is a metaphor for a cherished bond.


    • phone number •

    Drove past the busy boulevard,
    Your bardic remains sit in my car
    Scenting of woeful seas going dry
    In these blurry city lights we drove far

    Sharp blades of withered grass
    Running down the unpaved path;
    It's still not you with your hand,
    Ne'er grand as I fade by the sky's wrath

    Your corpse weathers day by day
    Coated with mild flowers and hazels;
    Rivers tasted no bitter once more,
    Ever so caged in the citadel

    And a faint memory echoes back,
    It says his one phone number in paper
    Has lost grip by the unhappy winds,
    Having bereft of all letters

    Yet I failed once more to leave
    And accept you as a history
    That marked its ink into my pages,
    Now roaming in black roses' story

    Ever was your lost phone number,
    Can't I call you again wherever you are;
    I'm now just one spirit in my car
    With a quaint corpse, as I drove far.



    #alx_poems #mirakee #pod
    @todayis @writersnetwork

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    phone number

    ©alxita

  • alxita 4w

    Still busy with online classes! Only a month and a half left but with so many work to be done ♡.


    • ashes •

    Black ashes of his souvenir
    Having docilely surrendered
    To the wind's hegemony,
    Yet she raked out of kilter
    Within clouds for pale answers

    She opened the viny door
    And her heart to the salty drops
    Coated with blue devils' glaze;
    She'd query for periods to stop,
    Letting their hands off her top

    She perceived with an eagle's eye
    For his whereabouts and hers'
    A vintage mirror she has mislaid,
    Now having moseyed all over
    Beyond frames for a stranded lover

    She's found no more than a trace
    And her heart wavering in the meadows;
    Rusting legs and old, prickly roses,
    But no excuses were they to know,
    In nightfall she goes

    And as the wind whispers pity
    To her ears way behind her eyes,
    She utters no proper response
    As her chest hurries a single sigh,
    Never glancing behind her sight

    At last, her debts to the lands' barrier
    Forth the souvenir of a lost lover!
    O dear ashes always astray,
    It had led no more in the winter
    Other than the grave of his letters.




    #alx_poems #mirakee
    #pod @todayis @writersnetwork

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    ashes

    ©alxita

  • alxita 5w

    A similar one to my last post, except this is more focused on a general scale. (Still busy ♡)
    Happy Women's Day ❤


    CERULEANS OF FREEDOM

    Where are you, dear shards
    Weaved into a promiscuous showpiece,
    Who have strayed past the rigor
    Of the double-faced conquerors
    Of power? Ever if you
    Are not so worthy to
    Another frame's standards,
    Are you still considered
    HUMAN?

    Having blotches and scars stroked
    On the silky, utopian skin, and
    Flowers inundating the cyan oceans
    In our heads, are we still always
    Humans born with organs,
    Abstract feelings and
    RIGHTS.

    Are you still walking
    On the rusty spikes and
    Splinters of a retrograde platform,
    Constantly avoiding them
    For no end? Will you remain
    Biddable to be in the same room
    You have been filled with the
    Choking, flowery phrases,
    And bound by the endless
    RHYMES?

    Find your light!
    It is your right to find
    Your own happiness amid the tempests.
    Are you no longer a human...
    When you wear the skin
    Most despised?
    When you wear your clothings
    Most abhorred?
    When you wear your identity
    Most detested?
    By the everlasting ego of a supremacist
    Nurturing his fracture no less
    Than standing high amongst the
    "LOWEST".

    Do you really desire for a change?
    Have you now decided to break free
    From the chains of rigor and fly high
    Once more in the ceruleans of
    FREEDOM?



    #free by @mirakee
    #freeverse #wod #alx_mind
    @todayis @writersnetwork @samswan @tamanna3

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    freedom

    ©alxita

  • alxita 5w

    (The chastushka is in the bg. Have a peaceful day/night ♡)

    IT IS BUT YOU

    O great minstrel of the Stygian world!
    Abiding in the mossy crevices
    Of cobblestone paths cease not
    Your mighty words to
    Emanate in the reigns of no sun
    And of no God.

    Yet his calendar stating
    "December" on a quaint March night
    Aches the nerves of
    Endless streams of movies, blasting
    A maelstrom of angry standards.
    Despite their razing, raspy rhythms,
    Echoing as the tsunamis of
    A quiet river, it concludes nothing
    But a pen's glory
    Residing in its own pace.

    It is but you! A transient blossom
    Except a rare angle of
    Winged metaphors, blind only to
    The opposers' hurricane. It is
    Merely you, a stranded man
    Who has traversed the rhymes
    Of the wilted, thorny roses.
    It is simply you, an expression limited
    To the mind's deep resonation
    Of tones feeling lost in its own room.
    It is purely you, to write
    Your own destiny amidst the
    Recurring crests by a force of
    No God, and heed not in the times
    Where you would forever be
    In the tsunamis and hurricanes
    Dousing and ripping your identity
    Forever.



    3/7/21

    #chastushka by @mirakee
    #alx_mind
    #wod #mirakee
    @writersnetwork @todayis
    @samswan

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    3.7.21

    ©alxita