#antique

147 posts
  • sayurisingh 25w

    Typewriter, Love

    Our love is like an old typewriter..
    Antique in this century yet gratifying in its own way....
    My soul writhes in your love, like a finger slides over its Keys..
    Broken with the dilemma of our differences like tapping sound of its synchronised pressed buttons...
    The way it embrace it's ink on the paper my body covers you in between those sheets....
    The tenderness of emotions that spread through my body like a contentment of sliding it's Carriage to the left for starting again...
    How we slide together in depth from tender to elder age like it's Ribbons grab the strength to pull....
    And how we put the effort of keeping it sane from driving deep into the madness of love like its Levers holding on its system.
    ©sayurisingh

  • royalqueen 33w

    Transmitted genes
    Of the passing generation,
    Oldest temple standing still,
    Is our cultural foundation.
    Great father is still alive
    In the tick-tick of the walking cane.
    His words engraved in the diary,
    Anchor of our future life.
    Grandma's remedies gifted long life
    Decaying ancestral home,
    Covers us under its warmth.
    Slippery grinding stone in the corner,
    Antique wall clock counting years,
    Demonetized old coins,
    Torn silk sarees in the wardrobe,
    Blended into our routine.
    Heritage in me,
    Heritage around me.

    #heritage #wod #pod #antique #ancestor
    @writersnetwork @mirakee

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    ©royalqueen

  • missdubey 57w

    #justforfun#mood#flirting#antique#proposal#lol��������# now a days marital proposals be like....��

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    Dil lekar aaya hun dehleez pr tumhari , ❤️
    keh dena uncle ko unki rajkumari ab hamari....
    ©missdubey

  • the_starry_mind 75w

    Rare words:

    Rue: Regret
    Row: Moving a boat
    Floundering: Struggling in water
    Current: The flow/direction of a river
    Sinking: Going deeper into a surface (here, drowning)
    Unuttered: Never uttered/said
    Kalopsia: The delusion of things being more beautiful than they truly are
    Burying: Hiding underground
    Conscience: A person's moral sense of right or wrong
    Owe: An obligation to pay back or be responsible
    Striving: Making great efforts to achieve something.

    Simplified explanation:
    'Worth' is a poem that explains how important it is to accept the present and know the difference of when we should keep holding on and when we should let go.
    It starts off with talking about the moment, when a person is yet holding and living another day full of regrets. He thinks that in life, which has been compared to a river, his actions or his paddles were too smart or independent enough to swim to wherever and at whatever speed he wanted, but which is clearly false and not possible. Because if we don't accept the flow of life and try to go in ways we personally want to, then all we will actually be doing is struggling in its waters uselessly which shall make it even harder for us to continue and move on in its flow again.
    Going deeper into believing that things were much more beautiful in the past is an act of foolishness because we are sometimes blinded to look at things and assume them to be more beautiful than they actually are. And we would know that for sure because thinking about such things would make our heart beat sadder and slow. The heart knows what our mind doesn't, and it understands that our true happiness doesn't lies in what we thought it does in.
    Perhaps some things and some decisions simply weren't meant for you. And if that's so, then still it is absolutely alright; it's not like you are the only one responsible for it or there's any fault in such decisions. All that you need to know is that some moments, some decisions and some people are worth running after and working hard for while for some, we should simply accept that they aren't meant to be a part of your life. Because while striving for your goals is important, letting go of things that are not meant for you is just as crucial.
    .
    @writersnetwork @mirakeeworld @mirakee #pod @clifton2 @meghasharma @whisp3rs @laughing_soul @geraldine_mary @readwriteunite @ayushsangwan #childhood #tangy #antique

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    Worth

    Yet another day of rue,
    For paddles were never too smart to row.
    Floundering against the current,
    Only makes it harder to flow.

    Sinking in an unuttered kalopsia,
    Always makes the heart beat slow.
    How long shall truth be denied,
    While burying the conscience deep low.

    Perhaps if some things didn't belong,
    Then you have nothing to owe.
    Some moments are worth striving for;
    And some are worth letting go.
    ©the_starry_mind

  • sweet_reminiscence 83w

    It's not the scars that you hide for years,
    But the change that has played its part
    To heal your wounded heart.

    It's not the door that you lock,
    But the air that's running through an open window
    To set yourself free from sorrow.

    It looks like the joys and griefs of our lives,
    Come briefly with the thieves inside your brain.
    Or a rustle of leaves on the first day of spring,
    Makes you wish to had a time machine.

    You said it's as cruel as the girl whose sister is a famous poet,
    The girl you met in the downtown, where you played her as fool and pledged her nothing,
    While she gave you a fistful of hope and tears:
    Cause that's all she had.

    And you got it wrong.
    For falling faster than the Falco, but fleeing from the fight.
    Thought, that's how you face the reality,
    Yet, that's how you lost the girl.

    Dear,
    There's always a reminder to be grateful:
    And that's the true antique.


    #Mirakee #Poetry #Antique #June2020 #Dan #Pisces

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    The True Antique

    ©sweet_reminiscence

  • nehahemaraj 90w

    Penchant for saudade,
    Hankering to backpedal ages,
    Domiciled in the era,
    Deprived of technology,
    Palpable nostalgia stirs the life,
    In the wake of contemporary needs,
    Sparkled, antiquated typewriter,
    Motionless on the corner ledge,
    Etching its dreadful epitaph,
    Chanting silent dirges,
    Levitating in the greyish memories of past,
    Yearns to reach,
    Undeniable end of the tale.

    ©nehahemaraj


    @mirakee @writersnetwork #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod #mirakee_reposter #ceesreposts
    #poetry #thoughts #love #modern #antique #typewriter


    Image credit to the right owner.

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    .

  • in_fragments 91w

    "You pass under the wooden threshold into
    a quaint and tiny room, greeted immediately
    by shelves upon shelves of books, all kinds,
    from any given era- tomes of geography, culture, sport and religion, bound in leather, enveloped in velvet or clasped closed with rusted metals. Their spines have survived
    the violence of time and tide to find rest in a Southern library.

    The curator, an old and well-traveled man, shows you the special way of pulling one out;
    not by pulling at the top of the spine, as we do with modern covers- but by pushing in the books around it, just enough to get a healthy grip
    on these frail yet powerful pieces of artistry.
    You pick up a heavy 15th century codice,
    off white and worn but meticulously preserved, with thin pages of authentic Latin passages written in ink dark enough to have been penned last week. You turn the pages tenderly, their energy strong, sensing the mental wealth in languages long dead, and a silent eminence on the shelves you will never understand. Ghosts of the past and its zeitgeists, alive between the curves of unreadable words.

    The overwhelm floods the top of your head
    like warm white light, and suddenly, you figure you know what god-fear feels like; complete humility and inadequacy before such utter unseen sovereingty. You hold the codice like
    the body of Christ at mass, drink up its sight like his blood. You close it and put it back in its resting place, almost feeling unworthy of holding it any longer.

    Across the floor was an 18th century Japanse manuscript no online translator could do justice for. Housed next to that, a medieval book on chess. Hand drawn medical logs Victorian students used to study from, with drawings of skulls, reproductive systems
    and surgery tools inside. A two-thousand page medieval bible, and a prayer book smaller than your palm. You soak up everything like a sponge and listen to the curator's life stories,
    of travels to England and Egypt and Africa and Asia, Irelend, Switzerland, India, Afghanistan- he seemed to have traversed
    this globe 500 times over, along his way collecting priceless gems disguised as ink and paper.
    This library, unlike any other library-
    booklets and volumes alike created to last,
    not something to be tossed away for a newer model- the recognition of something uniquely special, like a soul. This library has a soul,
    you believe, and a heartbeat that humans
    are unable to measure.

    You exit after a few slow hours, back into
    the fast pace of today... with a new appreciation of art and history and beauty, and the unfathomable experience of holding time capsulses in your hands. You are thankful for finding this little pocket of the world, revealing a larger, different realm, one where you're allowed to travel to wherever- and whenever- you want."
    ©in_fragments

    ~~~~
    I tried to recapture the feelings of the day I went to visit one of these libraries last November. How did I do?��
    #narrative #history #learning #library #books #past #antique #pod #thoughts #mirakee #writerstolli @writersnetwork

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    Antiquarian Library

    ©in_fragments

  • theunknownscribbler 92w

    A guy who knows no limits when he loves his partner. Knows what all things he has to do to maintain the relationship. He does everything he can and is still heart broken by the Love of his Life.

    What do you expect him to becomes?
    A person who thinks a thousand times before trusting someone.
    A person who hides the pain behind his smile.
    A person who is so better at faking things that even his friends cannot make it out.

    A person who has been hurt knows how hard it is to trust people, to trust someone to Love. And to keep smiling even in the bad times!

    #lover #love #life #poetry #writersnetwork #antique #thoughts #love #life #thoughts #poetry #diary

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    An Antique Lover!

    An old fashioned Lover hurt so bad, it turned him into an Eccendentesiast!

    ©the.unknown.scribbler

  • surajnsm 99w

    Time Machine

    There's a time machine
    In the city where I live
    With archaic infrastructure
    Old utensils
    Antique television
    With decades-old shows
    Corroded metal furniture
    Used by senior bosses
    Debating about topics
    From the 80s
    I feel like I drift back
    Like a time traveler
    To a time where
    I'm yet to exist
    Everything I possess
    Is yet to exist
    Where there's nothing for us but
    Everything for them
    It's a time machine.



    ©surajnsm

  • moclan6114 138w

    INFERNO

    In the blood lies royal gold
    Swaying in the linens of silk
    In the hand is a sceptre of authority
    Power in the hand to sideline
    Anyone who go against orders
    Drowned in power lust
    Corrupted is the vision of hope
    Pregnant with greed and pride
    Guide by the serpent wisdom
    Wills shielded with metal
    Controlling men at will
    On a throne of thousands bones
    Drinking in the skull of others
    But the joy is brief and scared
    Divine is righteous with sword
    And heaven's blessed to revive
    ©moclan6114

  • moclan6114 138w

    RAIN

    In the summer lies the frail
    Soft on my glowing skin
    Swift the scorching heat go
    Earth aches for it's splash
    And its texture excitement flow
    Now its smell greets farmers
    Cruel tools on back mount

  • moclan6114 138w

    LAZY SONG

    The morning glorious rays strike the shutters of the window
    Its pierce through the curtain beamed on my face
    Struggled with sad locks on my face to hide from it
    Awakening rays but my bones to stiff for a move
    To the bed all chores executed before sight
    I feel not my legs nor my hands loose
    Groaning soberly on my spine that reject support
    Singing on how to move but all efforts to the grave
    And the days glide pass my dropped eyes
    ©moclan6114

  • the_starry_mind 138w

    Non fiction
    This is the cutest pieces I've penned so far. ����

    I still remember, when, almost 8 years ago, when I was 6, I would run through the whole house in a denial to eat anything and my mumma would run after me, singing silly songs like: "Koi jaldi se aa ke kha lo warna koyal ud jiya ga" (Someone quickly finish up this bite or the cuckoo will fly away��), and I would gradually slow down because I didn't wanted the cuckoo to fly away. And then, she would catch me, and the magical warmth of her embrace would calm me down and just at the right moment, she would slip in a tasty rice ball in my mouth and feeling betrayed (although I loved the taste��) I would start running again.
    In today's time, my mumma's usually at her workplace, and I would quietly go, heat up the food and eat. Though something like that happening now would be really weird�� but those memories are very precious to me. There will also come a day when I would forget how I used to feel and these heart warming memories would go extinct.
    So I penned them down, my true emotions, so that they would live in the hearts of the people who read them and feel the same as me and live for eternity.
    .
    Thank you so much for reading!!!
    .
    @writersnetwork @mirakeeworld @mirakee #pod @clifton2 @meghasharma @whisp3rs @laughing_soul @geraldine_mary @readwriteunite @ayushsangwan #childhood #tangy #antique

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    Our jubilation's antique

    In the symphony of her silly songs
    I stumbled round the verandah
    Even though my young mind knew
    Of how I was destined to be caught
    In the warmth of her embrace
    And how the spell of her heart beats
    Would enchant me
    And cease this resistance
    While she would surreptitiously slip
    A tiny golden rice ball
    Through my soft lips
    And how the bitterness of betrayal
    And the mellowness in my mouth
    Would make my little feet
    Run in this chase once again
    Oh Mother
    My thoughts bleed
    Through the ink of my pen
    And so I'm penning down
    These tangy moments
    To be our jubilation's antique
    Because every second passed
    Is a memory
    And emotions, too,
    Can go extinct
    ©the_starry_mind

  • moclan6114 138w

    BEAUTY CRIES

    Beyond the facial beauty it cries
    Gifted to rule men's heart with lies
    Sneering look to it fancy admirers
    This command an army without general's name
    Like a seducing flower at dawn blooms
    Its all about it and its alone knows peace
    Believed to hold out the fate code
    Eyes fleeting in starry night of stars
    With charms that heals the wounded heart
    Its tormenting red lips and black buggy eyes

  • smi_vaid 139w

    There was truly amazing about this antique shop.I walked through the doors and I could not believe my eyes

    The dim light gazed over the old table
    Focusing on a stone labelled
    A piece which we took from a shore 
    Keeping within our palms,  the love we swore
    You said not to ignore it as a paltry act
    And handed over to me as a symbol of your heart
    You left me far, promising to come back
    Leaving me in solitude , dying as an insomiac
    Blaming you , my soul found solace in eternity
    But never knew about the love you preserved silently
    Stone in palm, saw your tears drenching your cheeks
    Felt your heart's silent shrieks
    My soul gasped
    Seeing ' my beloved 's heart ' written on stone's leather strap
    ©smi_vaid


    #antique #solitude #paultry #mirakee #writerstolli
    #rayaan #dds

    @danny_a @njram6 @birajv @odysseus @laughing_soul @vickyprashant_srivastava


    Please turn on the post notification to read my posts

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    ©smi_vaid

  • kinzak 139w

    That earring

    Part three


    I quickly turned the up plug came back in the lounge. My coffee was got cold so I just left it there and went to room. This is the time when I was a university student and came for year end holidays. Unfortunately my parents were not there and went for London tour to meet up their business partner year end grand party. I was alone in solitude that night with two servants who went to their quarter after finishing their work.
    I felt uneasy and tried to sleep, I was tired so soon fell asleep.
    I found myself in the same jungle in my dream where I went for hiking and camping with my university friends. I saw that I lost my friends, somewhere I found that earring, when I picked it up, I heard a girl shouted at me in a hoarse voice, 'don't you dare take it', at once I woke up from my dream, I saw it was morning.

  • heenajoshi 139w

    Antique Emotions

    There was truly something magical about this shop. I walked through the door and I could not believe my eyes. There were all dead emotions showcased over there. True love, lifelong loyalty, selflessness, gratitude and generosity.

    Neatly wrapped in skeleton shaped, transparent cases, just to give the feel of being alive and perhaps also to inform those, who were from today's generation and were absolutely oblivious to these antique emotions existance. After all it is 2080, the much more technocratic generation.

    I was still in awe with the spectacular view and suddenly the thought struck, "how this person could get these remainants to treasure?"

    "Woaaah, this one looks hillarious- lifelong loyalty. So things like such were real. I thought it's just a fantasy mentioned in our airbooks (yes books can be read in air now. Not like the old, heavy hardbacks to hold.) So uncle, I think I did a good thing by taking a stroll out and landed here. I am thinking to buy this funny thing. How much for it?" Asked a hippy, who had accidentally came to the same shop to amuse himself.

    "I am sorry sir. But these are very rare antiques. Probably no other shop has these. And these are keepsakes of old century. These are not to be sold." Said the antique shopkeeper.

    "Bullshit. Why the hell this shop exist then, if we can't buy the antiques? And Mr. Antique, look at you. Do you even think yourself to be loyal enough for the people who visit this shitty place of yours, when you are not ready to sell those. Huh." Having said this, the hippy snarled and stormed out with a loud stomp on the floor.

    As soon as the hippy crossed the enterance and moved on footpath, a fading light emerged where he stepped last and another ribcase came out, just like the other packs in which the antiques were wrapped. The ribcase flew in air, and started taversing towards the same showcase and set itself.
    Before my eyes could come back to their sockets out of shock, another antique appeared out of blue, with the label of "respect".
    ©heenajoshi

  • infectiouswordspoetry 139w

    #antique #solitude #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod @writersnetwork @mirakee


    A memorial to ancient times.


    There is something magical about this about this antique shop. I walked through the doors couldn't believe my eyes. I saw there was a huge gramophone besides the wall omitting a melodious song of my poetries. Fixed ,in the hustled business, I saw my memories fighting for it's new breathe. The business was simply for the times when I was gone & no one approached me seeking to retrieve my soul.
    In a corner of darkness I saw my forlorn heart deeply intensified for a lover's charm.I also, in a quiet place saw my antique miniatures version of my study place, caged unknown within a case.In a mirror of the royal times, I saw ,me & my solitude have totally become restless ,hearing the same new gens taunts .
    The new CDs,DVDs placed me on shame ,how misery you everyday see, being 'so out of the game '.
    Cassettes, hymned in peace, for they were the boss,
    For they always thought, it's a right time for me to doss.Everyone purchased everything, whether old or new.. But i was still an idol who never became a customers affair. I was accustomed then, to shedding of blankets, when the seller called it a day.
    I recollect & rethink now ,have I being so unconvincing to just be shattered though?

    ©anandarupa_chakrabarti

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    Perhaps recollecting my past, at present.
    Which I don't think, matters to you,
    Any more.

    ©anandarupa_chakrabarti

  • scintillatingsolitude03 139w

    There was truly
    something magical about
    this antique shop.
    She walked through the doors and couldn’t believe her eyes.
    As many articles
    as the eye could see
    With even more history behind each
    A sentiment, a story
    Stored under one roof
    for another to experience as well.

    ©scintillatingsolitude03

  • vicki_73 139w

    #antique
    #tod_wt #writerstrolli #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod #angika_singh #thepoetrycommunity
    #MirakeeWorld #ceesnewbies #sanjay_kumar


    An Antique Wish

    I always knew that magic was real
    From wishing upon stars to
    Blowing out the candles on my
    Birthday cake.
    I especially loved losing myself
    Within the books,
    For they were the most magical of all.
    Till that faithful day I stepped foot into the ol' antique shop.

    For I looked into windows I drawn from "there was truly something magical about this antique shop I walked through the doors and couldn't believe my eyes..."
    For all of my wishes,
    For all of my dreams,
    From the past, to the present.
    Truly hard to believe.

    She never knew what she entered
    Such magic I possessed
    The beauty within her she'll know
    Before she leaves here that
    Those wishes were hers
    For she truly is an Angel in disguise
    All she has to do is believe
    Then the real magic will
    For that's how this ol' antique shop
    Works and my magic flows.
    Through the believers
    Whom wants to move through this
    Universe and make it a better for
    She's a true a remarkable person

    For all of my wishes,
    For all of my dreams,
    From the past, to the present.
    Truly hard to believe.
    "There was truly something magical about this antique shop I walked through the doors and couldn't believe my eyes..."

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    An Antique Wish

    I always knew that magic was real
    From wishing upon stars to
    Blowing out the candles on my
    Birthday cake.
    I especially loved losing myself
    Within the books,
    For they were the most magical of all.
    Till that faithful day I stepped foot into the ol' antique shop.

    For I looked into windows I drawn from "there was truly something magical about this antique shop I walked through the doors and couldn't believe my eyes..."
    For all of my wishes,
    For all of my dreams,