Poet living in North Wales
World. Deactivating . . .Us. Transitioning . . .World. Hoping . . .Us. Transforming . . .World. Regrouping . . .Us. Reinventing . . .World. Traumatizing . . .Us. Elevating . . .World. Thriving . . .Us. Listening . . .World. Finalizing . . .Us. Dying . . .World. Resurrecting . . .Us. Surviving . . .World. Everything.Us. Everlasting.@cathdavies
In year zerodata is the only evidencewe ever existed.The frozen news feed. The faded profile pic. A deactivated worldwhile life starts again. But even ifwe know from experienceonly dystopias come true,then indelibleis every life on Earth.If this present comes true, our pasts are truer. For every wordmouthed in remembrance, memory is not blank,despite a blank screen.@cathdavies
Control leads to chaos,chaos demands control.@cathdavies
Wild Woman of Flintshire
She longedfor the Ordinary Worldof Duran Duran. Trips to Viennaby Ultravox. Instead, the old bluesplay across Halkyn Mountainas she walks.Like A Prayershe is Wuthering Heights. Her life is a song title. The Pandemicis a rubbish name for a band,but the B sides are wild. @cathdavies
This is a Normalhauntedby ghosts.Memory standstoweringover the streetlights.Over the streetlights,the deathof innocence.Death of the innocents.But as we stepinto empty footprints,we neverhappened.It was always them,shadowsvanishingunder the young sun.©cathdavies
I raised my eyes to the sky,before the rain,the lost rain from a forgotten placetook the prayerof an entire civilisationand answered it.@cathdavies
Toughness made us tough.But compassion made us tougher.@cathdavies
Life challengeslike a kick in the teethsometimes.But loveis there to pick up molars.To straighten the jaw.Thank God.@cathdavies
A Year On
A year on,the March daffodilsare still yellow. Feet still pass them,and commenthow beautiful they are. As words retreat,all they needis the sun and rain.The sky feeds them. A year on, there is no less of them.It is like they growoutside the life spansof anything else.And a year ago,this poem would endright here. But for the feet,a year on, mourningthe less of us.©cathdavies
Okay. So I'm deviating from the continuation of the last three letters, because I don't want to miss a chance to write to Mirakee. ❤️❤️❤️@mirakee This one's for you.You can find the rest of the letters at #wbltsagent 2021.02. 18Written rights : ©a_gentilischi #Ltcmc#mirakee #writersnetwork #writersbay@mirakee @writersnetwork @writersbay @lovenotes_from_carolyn #love #thoughts #writing #wbltsagent
-The fourth letter, to Mirakee with love-
. Dear Mirakee,
When I was a kid, I used to write a lot. Stories about toys that came alive, exploits in boarding schools, and on one memorable occasion (this is embarrassing), a saga about a pig called Dave, who had an affinity for surfing (yes, you read that right!).
But as I grew older, the light went out of my words. They became a strained whisper, manifesting in the careless, hurriedly scribbled monologues in journals.
And after a few years, I stopped.
I stopped writing.
I lost my voice.
A few months ago, a friend recommended Mirakee to me, and I joined the forum on a whim.
And my life changed.
There I met the most beautiful community of writers in existence.
One of my favourite things about Mirakee is the sheer diversity. The differences in language and cultures provides a refreshing vitality. All of a sudden I was typing sentences in Hindi, Spanish and Italian on Google Translate, simply to understand the posts. I found it to be a truly exciting experience.
After all, each language is an echo of history and culture and they are all beautiful in their own ways.
The community itself is so supportive and kind on a whole. The daily prompts are amazing.
"A prompt a day, keeps writer's block away"
(I just made that up)
I've had the pleasure of meeting so many wonderful people of all ages and from around the world. It's been such fun.And I've learnt so much in these few months. About history, culture and of course, writing. My thirteen year old self wouldn't believe that I'd be trying to write sonnets in seven years! But here I am learning and growing. I'm sure that it's the same for others as well.
Mirakee has been the BEST thing that ever happened to me.
I can't thank you enough for the amazing work you do, mirakee .
And how can I go on without @writersnetwork writersbay and Carolyn ma'am? You guys take this writers' paradise in to a whole new level of awesomeness.
So this is me, raising a glass to your continued success.
Thank you Mirakee, for helping me find my voice.
A girl who is no longer silent.
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 areIs good enough. ©writers_paradise
@mirakee @mirakeeworld @cathdavies @writersnetwork @positively @theonesidedthoughts @bouncy @_harsingar_#writersnetwork #writersbay #pod #tales #poetsofindia #relatable #mirakee #latenightthoughts #love #life
Coz I know, it will always give me the strength ©pari_paromita
This is the landI die hereIn the final restI lie hereThis is itNothing elseAll of itWhat elseThe old soilThe new treeIf I die hereI am freeOrphan childHard manWe live hereWe canThis windThis hillThis graveWe fillOur bloodOur sweatBelongs hereDon't forgetTime goesTime arrivesThis definesOur lives-KKB©gladiator001
You throb inside my words like heartbeats. ©Asma KhanBg credits - Pinterest
I'll fall, but I'll never stop rising.I'll fail, but I'll never stop trying. I'll grow weary, but I'll never stop moving forward. I'll cry, but I'll never stop laughing. I'll loose, but I'll never stop winning. I'll be down, but I'll never stop hoping. I'll miss you, but I'll never forget you. I'll not have you, but I'll never stop loving you.©markie
#oblivious #writersnetwork #mirakee #pod
L imited and
I mpaired my
I ncognizant to
O bvious truths
U naware, I never
S aw it coming
No true dream ever dies a painless death.
That's the thing about dreams. One day they are there. In front of your eyes. So close, so real.The next day, they are not. They don't disappear, of course. They lurk, in a corner of your heart, you haven't opened in a long time. In a part of your brain, where the memories are gathering dust. But they are a mirage.You don't have fingers, strong enough to grasp tight. You don't have a soul, brave enough to hold on. And it slips away. One second at a time. One day at a time.- Avitaj
"DandelionDrum, drum, drum, drum, The beating of her heart, The air dense with fragile breaths,Dandelion.Drum, drum, drum, drum, her heart knocks behind thick walls, the fearThe camouflage for the chill Air, static that can kill a flyIn one step. Dandelion. A chilling sky, Clouds of snowflakesTo bury any things, to harm, To blast her everywhere, To make her crumble, To die, Dandelion.Emulating the empty vessel,The palpitation, the thicknessOf the blowing air. A drum of defeat,Dandelion. Leaving her in one pieceTo dwell in the dark and unknown©tomorrow_is_amazing
Treasure all your failuresand sell them as success stories. Its only a matter of time and undying dedication to make the impossible possible.©alluring_tulip