Mirakee
यत्र योगेश्वर: कृष्णो यत्र पार्थो धनुर्धर: |
तत्र श्रीर्विजयो भूतिध्रुवा नीतिर्मतिर्मम ||७८||
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atd
3w
Read Moreभगवद गीता १८.७८
yatra yogeśhvaraḥ kṛiṣhṇo yatra pārtho dhanur-dharaḥ
tatra śhrīr vijayo bhūtir dhruvā nītir matir mama
Translation
Wherever there is Shree Krishna, the Lord of all Yog, and wherever there is Arjun, the supreme archer, there will also certainly be unending opulence, victory, prosperity, and righteousness. Of this, I am certain.
Image: ©atd -
art is serene
an answer to every
inexplicable emotion
©atd -
atd
27w
Most things are to be left behind
In order to move forward in life
©atd -
atd
27w
Why?
What's your 'why'?
Surely it isn't
Someone else's happiness
Someone else's desires
Someone else's time
It's all yours
It's your 'why'
©atd -
atd
28w
focus is the best distraction
©atd -
atd
29w
Time might just be
short of a dimension
but music surely isn't
©atd -
Shadows we lived in
The ocean waves in navy blue
Flowers that blossom with spring
The breeze cold mornings blew
Memories of me and you
©atd -
atd
30w
I loved those days
When I wrote what I felt
Not what I wanted to become
Not something I never was
©atd -
Wings of the clouds
Born out of the pink skies
Dissolve into the scarlet winds
©atd -
In the end, all we're left with, are the echoes of our own voices.
©atd
-
Every art expression is rooted fundamentally in the personality and temperament of the artist.
- Hans Hofmann -
stark19
41w
Democracy
In a democratic country,
without a strong opposition,
a ruling is always proved to be failure.
©stark19
7July. 20 -
therightkindofmisfit
5w
Read MoreI used to think that art is a profession people choose when they have nothing more concrete on their agenda
Till the time I realised that people choose anything but art when they have nothing on their agenda.
I used to think that art is a solution to monotony
Till the time
I realised that for some it is a treatment, a therapy, a medical prescription, a coping mechanism, a necessity, a compulsion.
I used to think art is dressing up in red for your date
Till the time
I realised that it is falling off the terrace of your lover just to catch their glimpse on your way down.
I used to think art is well behaved rain that falls so immaculately on your window tip
Till the time
I realised that it is the acid rain which drowns entire cities.
I used to think that art is what people make on papers, on canvases, on stages
Till the time
I realised that it is that poet who died when he drunkenly attempted to grasp the reflection of the moon in the still waters of a lake.
I used to think art is like buying the entire stationery to create art
Till the time I realised that it is Vincent Van Gogh drinking yellow paint to make sunflowers.
I used to think art is knowing when exactly to stop writing a poem when it reaches the crescendo
Till the time it became metromania- the compulsion to write poetry, marking the atlas of my existence with crosses of fire.
@mirakee @writersnetwork #pod #art
..
-
samridhi_tripathi
42w
Read MoreEmbrace me as the wind,
Flowing through you,
Embracing you
And stopping around you.
Read me like those books,
With treasures hidden
Asking you to grab them
Before anybody else.
Watch, with your eyes gazing at mine,
Mine at yours,
Staring at a wonderful sight
That cannot be missed.
Take your hands around,
Your arms adoring my presence
Your breath feeling mine,
And reaching the core of heart.
Scar me, with your love,
With the same intensity
As my heart pounds,
Finding you over me.
Hear me, as the sobbing child
Who's deprived of care.
For that hard is my yearning
Searching for healings
In your love.
Disclose me as the secret
Hidden for ages,
For I reveal in front of you
My feelings.....
Give me love......!!!
- Samridhi Tripathi
Pc - pinterest
#give_me_love #love #desire
@writersbay @writersnetwork•Give me love•
|piece in caption|
©samridhi_tripathi -
samridhi_tripathi
41w
Read More
I keep secrets and hide a lot from the world by just pretending with a smile that says 'i am fine'.
#innerself #secrets #mirakee
@writerbay @writersnetworkI am the ocean with its core hidden from the world and the sky with constellation you can barely fathom the deeper you'll reach the shallow it becomes and then you'll end up drowning into my Soul. It's the depth of me keeping me alive.
©samridhi_tripathi -
samridhi_tripathi
4w
Read More
Wrote this some months ago (don't know exactly how much) but finally posting here!
Also,
Thankyou for reading:)
#wishes #poem
@mirakee
@writersnetwork
@writersbay//Wishes//
I wish I were an artist
Could draw your heart
Wish I were a writer
Could write your part
Like those remarkable writeups
I could publish my art
On the pages of your intellect
Could imprint them like the stars.
The moon I could show
Portray its thousand scars
Could define of its weakness
Could speak of its flaws.
The verses I could bleed
Could heal your aching heart
The lullabies I could write
Could sing in your nights for hours
Wish I were an artist
Performing all your favourite tasks.
Could tell the difference between
The end and the start.
©samridhi_tripathi -
diyabedi
42w
Read More. A
drop
of drizzle
dances on the
music of thunders.
Falls quitely over the
marmoris ocean, deeply
absorbing the sediments of
benthic sea. The yellow speck at
the centre of ocean stares the pri-
stine blue sky. The raindrops bou-
nce back to another world after
reflecting. The amaranthine sky
is melting, quenching the
thirst of earth and soil.
Perfuming the pink
and white bloss-
oms.
Reviving the
scars by the fa-
lling rain
Drop- lets
Reminising the
old era.
The float-
ing Boats
in the muddy
water that
Hides Seve-
ral wis- hes of
pure he- arts.
The
handprints
made by the
drops on the
diaphanous glass
effacing those imp-
urities. Ripples
incarn- ate the
circular droplets
to the rhythmic
rhapso- dies.
The gentle
fog invades
along with
the petrich-
or. The sand
mixed with
natural elixir
and the won-
drous sun
gives life to
those dorm-
ant seeds.
The lightn-
ing acco- mpany
the rain to glisten
its trail to another
new wor- ld. The thu-
nders peeping from the
clouds shake the hard
cumbe- rs to purify
the lon- g tracks
adoring them w
ith the serene,
silvery dew.
©Diya
It is way too messy but just a try to concrete poem. Ooff!
Oh my god!! Thankyou @writersnetwork @mirakee for the kind repost. ❤❤
I can't believe but my second POD ��❤ This made my day.
@mismagical @jeelpatel @branthan @alisdaire_ocaoimph @libertine13 @philosophic_firefly @writersbay
#pod #dds #ceesreposts #tod_wt #bob_201 #6_11 #atd #blue_raindropthoughts #writerstolli #writersnetwork #mirakee #mirakeeworld #yaish_ #amaranthinec.
©diyabedi -
alankrita3
35w
Maybe you don't have to fit in.
Maybe you have to follow your own path.
Even if you're the only one on it.
Maybe being whoever you are
Is good enough.
©writers_paradise -
thenaturepoetess
45w
Rainy Day
I used to hate the rain.
I hated the phantom of clouds who showed up to torment the sun
And how the rain spat furiously against my skin
Like I deserved it.
I hated how my wellies sloshed with its icy liquid
How the park became saturated with puddles,
And how the sky lost its luminol blue hue.
But the soil is enriched by the scent of petrichor
And the lime grass smells sweet and dewy.
Webs glisten admist the fields,
Flowers burst open into lush symphonies of colours,
And the dulcets of songbirds increase.
I used to hate the rain.
But now,
I love it.
©thenaturepoetess -
therightkindofmisfit
45w
Read More
I used to think that art is a profession people choose when they have nothing more concrete on their agenda
Till the time I realised that people choose anything but art when they have nothing on their agenda.
I used to think that art is a solution to monotony
Till the time
I realised that for some it is a treatment, a therapy, a medical prescription, a coping mechanism, a necessity, a compulsion.
I used to think art is dressing up in red for your date
Till the time
I realised that it is falling off the terrace of your lover just to catch their glimpse on your way down.
I used to think art is well behaved rain that falls so immaculately on your window tip
Till the time
I realised that it is the acid rain which drowns entire cities.
I used to think that art is what people make on papers, on canvases, on stages
Till the time
I realised that it is that poet who died when he drunkenly attempted to grasp the reflection of the moon in the still waters of a lake.
I used to think art is like buying the entire stationery to create art
Till the time I realised that it is Vincent Van Gogh drinking yellow paint to make sunflowers.
I used to think art is knowing when exactly to stop writing a poem when it reaches the crescendo
Till the time it became metromania- the compulsion to write poetry, marking the atlas of my existence with crosses of fire.
@mirakee @writersnetwork #pod
.A R T
I used to think that art
is something
that hangs on white walls
of high end galleries,
which rich people with
empty eyes, observe.
till the time
I saw you write poetries
for free,
even when nobody was
reading them, on edges
of the newspapers
with Bukowski
like obsession.
(Rest in caption)
©therightkindofmisfit
