109 posts
  • seraiah_smiles 8w

    #CA(T) #CAT #CA

    Ca(t), Can't, CA, California/Cat, Can

    CA can mean California, which then can either mean 'Land of Calafia' or 'Land of Promise'.

    What does cat means?
    5Ws 1H

    Written and Published on:
    8 Oct. 2021

    This is a creative nonfiction, a real-life story of mine.

    333rd post


    Read More


    I'm walking on the streets, and I saw a stray cat.
    My emotions were stirred for it was the opposite of very fat.
    I fed and pet and took it home to let it feel somewhere it belongs.
    But how sad that when from my bosom I laid it down to the floor,
    It quickly went outside the gate for it was scared to enter the door.

    I'm sorry I couldn't make this house the place you feel belong.
    Maybe I too was hasty, that I brought you down and you felt it's strong.
    It's different from what you wanted.
    Also, that I have a tom cat, mom sternly forbids...
    I think that's why each of them eventually leaves.

    I had to let you go and roam where your feet take you.
    Still, in my memory and heart you have a place—yes, you do.
    I haven't, couldn't speak with my mouth about comforting words;
    So I thought-fully wished that they do it—they, the angels.
    "Live.... LIVE WELL," Wherever I am and wherever you are, my only request of you is this.

    Maybe next time, we'll meet;
    And maybe that time, Mother will permit.
    But for now as I couldn't make you stay,
    Then for you I greatly and faith-fully pray.

  • _lostsoul___ 13w

    We the youngsters of this merry book
    Overwhelm at the pace of an abyss crook.

    We see, we trust,
    We joir every moment as such...
    But what's left is a broken trust in touch.

    We play, we dance,
    We stare every moment at a glance...
    Leaving us with the sweet memories and bitter experiences at ance.

    We stand upright in oneself's grief and stands still when others cry...
    What we get in the end Is that u didn't even try... 

    Oh my my 
    My heart cries for all these lies 
    I said to myself anay...

    We write, we speak 
    Without any insecurity or creak.
    We bow in front of them as I speak...
    Without any boundaries,
    Lavitating at our peaks.


    @miraquill @writersnetwork
    #youngsters #memoir

    Read More


    We the youngsters of this merry book
    Overwhelm at the pace of an abyss crook.

  • __esprit__ 19w

    I heard a decade old jiggle that transported me to simple times. Where almost everything was roses and sunshines and nothing could cloud the teenage glee and optimism about the life I have had.
    I feel proud of my teenage self who saw the best in everyone always had the courage to never give up.
    When I look back I think my teenage self would have never thought how life was going to turn out the way it turned out to be funny enough I am sure that teenager would have lived it to the fullest no matter how life turned out.
    That 13 year old would have stood up and fought back with chin high and straight shoulders never showing how terrifying it was

    Read More


  • bananidaschowdhury3_9 21w

    oN souL recoRd . . .

    There's something mysterious
    about your soul

    It knows it all

    It records it all

    Your this very being's memory
    is limited to a time slot

    But the soul has
    its own memoir framed

    The language is so mystical

    You might not comprehend it
    at the rational level

    But this language is deep

    This converse of the soul is
    more of what you can feel
    as of a hunch

    An unanticipated conviction

    Your soul's holding on record
    wisdom of lifetimes

    Learnings and lessons

    Experiences and Memories

    All of it inscribed within

    All you need to know
    would come to you
    as you align with your soul

    All you need to follow
    in the course of
    your spiritual journey
    through lifetimes
    as well as through
    different planes of existence
    would be guided in
    as the awakening
    of your soul happens in

    Stay aware
    Be conscious
    of your real self !


  • the_sweet_summer_child 29w

    Someone ...
    Is describing you in their own words!!


  • that_muser 48w

    Memoir 12/17

    thankyou for last night.
    i've replayed those moments often in my mind. yet to see them come to life baffled me enough to go speechless.

    its been 3 years since you left.
    we were good. until i realized our hearts saw it different. we were the parallel lines that were never destinated to meet.
    i remember crying that night. i wanted the new year to embark a new us. but you lost a friend. and i lost my heart.

    to see you waiting by the pavement wrenched the void where my heart used to be. i held it together as i watched you walk away. too far away from my sight and hold.

    i know its been 3 years but could i say i could get over you? i know i couldn't speak. i know i couldn't smile. i know you didn't see me. i know i didn't want you to see me. and i knew that was the end of a beautiful chapter.


  • bidyaa 51w

    Dear love,
    I saw you and I was confused,
    Whether to shake hands,
    Or to hug you.
    Or to remove only one mask or the both of them.
    The one that I wear to prevent COVID.
    And the other one that I use to cover the ripples inside me; the smile I mean.
    I was confused whether to hold the overflow of emotions,
    Or to let them go out through my eyes.
    But then, I chose to do the thing that was bold and wise.
    I gritted my teeth and stood still until you passed by.
    I don't know whether you secretly read the memoirs of our love that I write and weep as I do.
    But I am sure that the ripples of our memories has its effect on you too.
    I am saying this because you staggered as soon as you saw me,
    Perhaps you were trying to control yourself the same way I did?
    You are a stranger now; I had almost convinced myself ,
    Just because you perceive me as one.
    But then, "a person who knows you so well is a stranger?" My heart asked.
    And here I am, confined again inside these four walls,
    Writing another memoir of our love.
    And wondering if things would be the same if they were up to me and not you.
    Maybe I don't need an answer for this.
    Do I?


  • metaurelius 52w

    Arm Tan.
    Not the consequence of an hour out the shade. But a half-Thai half-something.
    He (for he was a he) swallowed me hungrily. Devoured me like he'd never tasted Bloke before. And he might not have, to be fair;
    for among the neon-lit detritus of a city built purely to inhale sterling, there dwelt the ever ubiquitous face of the whore whose eyes cut you in two. And she looked like a woman.

  • alxita 65w


  • sayurisingh 67w

    Devil's snare

    High up in the mountain range where we speak of a devil snare lives my memory of your life,
    How we reached to the point of moonless night and you smiled your last grin,

    You anthropomorphized me with a hug to the angel's den,
    You broke your promise of not falling for me, the truth danced in its nude form showing the actuality of what you fell for,

    I'm sorry I had to push you down I saw the lightening struck in your eyes, I'm still not aware about the shock on your face,

    Was it the truth that I revealed or was it the fact I let you die, still people talk about this devil's snare where I'm the queen of all the Succubus you spared.

  • aswatha_victor 68w


    Sacrifices mislay when it comes to you,
    Written to fade away onto the tip of the
    Artist's paintbrush, and get lost in the
    Art of Abstracts.
    Changing whole self into a fictional character,
    In your daily day dream and wander by those,
    rivers in the midst of nowhere leading my path in maze.
    While mind and soul synchronizing, with the cool breeze,
    From the withered leaves and fallen blossoms,
    With eyes full of thoughts rushing from the small
    strand of hair flowing like a trail.
    Which leaves a salty memoir in your canvas,
    And stay in front of your eyes as a sketch
    From your own imagination whom you,
    Never understood.....

  • prettyproses 79w

    My mother asked me
    Why do I write?
    Why do you poets exemplify things?
    Things that seem normal to one's eye
    What is so special your poem brings?

    Those adjectives you use
    Exaggerate all the simplicity of moments
    Metaphors at every line you infuse
    Your quill don't spare even sunsets

    Ah! That stroke of apostrophe
    Filling all those spaces between letters
    You start hiding your negativity
    Colouring pages with shades of weathers

    At times if you feel short of verses
    Filling hands with roses and their fragrances
    You start binding words around promises
    And decorate stanza with serene sentences

    She acts weird
    I don't know what's got in her
    Sometimes she hates my writeups
    Other time she recalls my memoir

    Where I described her Beautifully
    Those Roses curled in her hair
    When even my words stare
    How I weave my proses into Poetry

    #poetryoftheday #poets #poem #prose #mother #adjectives #moments #metaphors #sunsets #quill
    #Apostrophes #letters #weathers #verses #roses #fragrances #promises #sentences #memoir #beautiful #poetry #proses

    Read More



  • autumnbreeze 84w

    When l emerge into yester land,
    faded smoke of rigidity inhibit in my system.
    Switched patterns of nurturing,
    decay perception as a friend.
    Blurry vision of empathy,
    treasure sleep by tender touch of agony.
    Figurative usage of abuse,
    cast a doorway for anxiety, miles away miles.
    High aspirations of companionship,
    hinder upon thin hot wire of ghast wrapped around soft corners.
    Chained haste of friendship,
    trip down panic into lucid strips of stoic.
    Triggered notches of belonging,
    strike a gust of lonliness evacuating any flow of monologue.
    Ripped tears of regression,
    submit a crumpled poetry which lay untouched.
    Ghosted dreams of belonging,
    revil the shunned perceptions leaving hallmarks of escape.
    When I try to emerge into my yester land,
    a black gyre ready for closure induce within my system.

    P. S.:- A bit of memoir like piece of writing. This poem will always be a resource for overcoming any further vanity or obscured feelings of withering.

    #poetrycommunity, #poetry, #poem, #memoir, #healing, #solace, #becoming, #closure, #healingbywriting, #writing, #potd, #poemoftheday, #mirakeecommunity, #mirakeepoetry, #mirakeepoem, #mirakee, #writersnetwork

    @mirakee @writersnetwork @senden_k @soulfulstirrings @_kabir

    Read More

    When I try to emerge into my yester land,
    a black gyre ready for closure induce within my system.

  • abdool 92w


    When I'm dead and gone to rest
    Let the maggots eat and have a feast
    They touch the body but not the soul
    Ultimately, we are all food for them
    Yes, the cries may be bitter and long
    Assuredly, it'll tarry only a while
    When I'm dead and gone to rest
    You will find my life was filled with secret
    When I'm dead and gone to rest
    Let these words be spoken again
    When I'm dead and gone to rest
    Make my bones decay for dust it is
    When I'm dead and gone to rest
    Dont despair for I lived my life
    When I'm dead and gone to rest
    This is a time we all await
    One after the other, we all must fall
    Eventually there will be no man Standing
    The title will be about you
    Someday it'll come knocking
    That day there will be no hiding
    That day there will be no delays
    For when we are dead and gone to rest
    We leave behind memories of tales to be told.
    Don't write your name as a legend
    Because legacies are built and not written

  • swayam_raje 95w

    A good old memory!

    One day I would look back into the past memories I'd cherish the lush green gardens, rivers flowing with pristine water. Swimming in the river whilst birds chirping over a babool tree. Sun rising over with warmth of it's rays. Morning dew revulating tender leaves like a shining pearl. Boat ferrying the passengers across the river with young boys pulling oars with a youthful zeal. Old men sitting besides the temple, gathering warmth of the rising sun, witnessing all the activities, as they ran down their memory lanes. The indistinct chanting of prayers was a morning delight. A sudden hand wave of acquaintances was an appealing gesture of social existance. All of it seemed so vibrant, so much instilled in my memories.All of it left far behind in the search of manmade wonders that preach of development. Clueless of it's sustainable surety. Whilst i cherish the past i vouch of the bleak urban lives at the edge of struggling survival.


  • biswajitdev 105w

    *Ink bleeds from my scars of heart
    Blended with unspoken emotion & thought
    Depicts memoir that laments our love
    Drenches the tapestry of time .*

    *Ink bleeds from my scars of heart drenches the tapestry of time .*

    @writerstolli @writersnetwork @mirakee @mirakeeworld @lovepoet

    #Ink #Scar #Tapestry #Time #Memoir #Broken_Love #Love #theinkinme #ceesreposts

    Read More

    Tapestry of Time

    Ink bleeds from my scars of heart
    Blended with unspoken emotion & thought
    Depicts memoir that laments our love
    Drenches the tapestry of time .


  • fleetingmeditations 109w

    My Memoir

    One day I might try to write my memoir only to find that life has been a blur, peppered with occasional moments of clarity, coloured over time by memory bias and subconscious supression.

    I will lay down the gauntlet, toil to recall the joys and pains of life, only to find them painted different shades by my weary mind.

    Missed opportunities forgotten, formative moments overlooked, all to form the narrative that my memoir-writing self wants to record.

    Writing a memoir would be a futile exercise indeed.


  • _drh4nk_ 111w


    She is beautiful,
    She's more than just a good person,
    A wonderful woman.
    Those words barely grasp,
    they barely come close to describe
    how amazing She is.
    Her old school soul
    and heart of gold,
    Her eyes are beautiful.
    Her eyes glistens
    when she talks about Her
    passions and dreams.
    Her smile mesmerizes me
    and then cringes Her nose.

    Truly there is one person you meet,
    only one person who when they're around,
    the world is peaceful.


  • joyoshibarua 111w

    I fell from the bike

    That day, things were different. I was not feeling well at all. My grandma refused to let me go to college. I asked my father to take the shortcut route. I didn't hold him property during the bike ride. I remember feeling very hot. I remember the bus trying to overtake us. I just don't remember falling from the bike.

  • umartanwar0357 117w

    Don't End!!!

    A cool Sunday morning,
    With a crisp sunlight breaking
    through the misty clouds,
    And the car engine revving,
    With my feet resting,
    On the chill dashboard,
    Both of us riding in our lovely old ford,
    Seeing sights of the passing lush life green,
    and the hiding hare wanting not to be seen,
    Redolence of the countryside pleasing the noses,
    And the joyful small peasants playing with gardenhoses,
    What an undisturbed peace,
    Away from the worldly malice,
    Wistful mind wishing,
    Afire the heart's desire,
    Both say the same when blend:
    That this road should never end.....