#napowrimo

697 posts
  • manosrija 3h

    Searching and fumbling through ages of life,
    I reach no ground where I stand stable;
    I find no feet that's only mine,
    Loving the chaos over the cicada songs
    too soft to cover up the innermost sounds.

    I'm lying down on a deserted bed
    Too scared to peek into the dark,

    I close my eyes- your voice rings soft
    The melody touching beyond the verse
    I start to read between
    the lines, made so carefully to hide
    all that you wish to confide
    (in me?)

    The scary bed is no more desolate,
    Too far from me you weave
    your affections
    to form the comforter shawl
    of hushed melodies, I fear no more
    my sounds, that were ignored;
    Wrapping me to sleep.

    #melody @writersnetwork @readwriteunite @writerstolli #napowrimo

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    Midnight Melody

    ©manosrija

  • sidhubalkaran 9h

    A quintilla is a Spanish quintain(five line stanza). It has 8 syllables in each line and employs an ab rhyme scheme with at least two lines of “a” rhyme and at least two lines of “b” rhyme. Also, no three consecutive lines may rhyme nor may the stanza end in a couplet. The most commonly used rhyme scheme in a Quintilla is abaab but other variations such as ababa, abbab, aabab and aabba are also used. A decastich, (2 quintillas) is also known as Copla Real.

    Every syllable is a mold
    words and desires already seen
    by the living and all things cold
    by the new world, and one that’s old
    Every poem that is, it’s (already) been.
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    @writersnetwork @mirakee #writersnetwork #mirakee #pod #napowrimo #napowrimo2021 #poemoftheday #postoftheday #readwriteunite #rwu #newpoem #newpost #mirakeewrites #mirakeewriters #writingcommunity #poetrycommunity #poetry

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    Q for Quintilla

    Every syllable is a mold
    words and desires already seen
    by the living and all things cold
    by the new world, and one that’s old
    Every poem that is, it’s been.

  • thepastelink 10h

    Before finding flaws in others mind
    Bring out a mirror of your height
    Take a look at yourself first
    And tell what do you see at first glance.

    During the highs
    The best is you
    During the lows
    The worst is YOU.

    @mirakee @writersnetwork

    #NaPoWriMo

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    Be the change
    To bring the change

    To bring the change
    We have to change.

    ©thepastelink

  • electric_infamy 13h

    Day 20 of #NaPoWriMo featuring the #escapril2021 prompt "stranger than fiction" and the #bybtpromise prompt "and in my pain I promised you tomorrow"
    #poetry #poet #poem #writeeveryday #author #published #electricinfamy #neonsunrisepublishing

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    Hopelessly Devoted Rushing In

    I played the jester once
    Though I much prefer the bard
    Dealing in flashes of brilliance
    And an adventure in song
    To the fire eating juggler
    With a joke and a rhyme

    Yes, I played the fool
    How could I not?

    We were always on this path
    Star-crossed and predestined
    Bound for the yellowed pages
    Of a 'stranger than fiction' tell-all
    And the movie of the week

    Despite the looming futility
    I went to war and bled for you
    Sacrificed my prime
    And in my pain I promised you tomorrow
    Like I spoke for days and seasons

    Yes, I am a fool
    The question is whose?

    ©electric_infamy

  • hamallaxmi 1d

    Day 20

    /Bucket list/

    You see I believe in the magic
    Of littlest things.

    1.Donate hair

    2.Dance barefoot to the tunes of the rain.

    3.Be on the top of the mountain And listen to Madhubala by Amit Trivedi and to get lost.

    4. To get lost in huge jungle just to listen to the birds chirping, play hide and seek with different species.

    5. Attend an unknown wedding/reception Just for the food.

    6. Attend school/college reunion.

    7. Travel solo

    8. Make a pot on pottery wheel

    9. Surprise the orphanage Home
    With the wishlist they had given.

    10. Be kind, Love yourself and hate none.
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    #napowrimo #napowrimo2021 #bucketlist

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    Bucket list

    ©hamallaxmi

  • electric_infamy 1d

    Day 19 of #NaPoWriMo featuring the #escapril2021 prompt "mirror" and the #amykaypoemaday prompt "I will love you"....feels good to be caught up...
    #poetry #poet #poem #writeeveryday #author #published #electricinfamy #neonsunrisepublishing

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    Somewhere this is Directed at Me

    The thoughts that tumble free in the midst of this rumination aren't the most profound...they're littered with cheeseball similes and tired metaphors underpinning poignant feelings that are often only expressed to a silent mirror...and despite all of that there is simply not enough life left to live where it makes sense to keep holding this in...so I'll scream these words until my lungs burst...I will love you like the waves love the shore until the last tide is swallowed by the sea...until the last stars burn out in the ebony night and leave us wishing on a memory...I will love you through the last waltz around the supernova of the sun...until our final breath escapes into the failing atmosphere...I will love you like the laughter of children and the first taste of hot chocolate on Christmas morning...like the smell of God fresh after the rain...Through all the endings and new beginnings..the fabled fairytale reciprocities...I still love you with every tortured lyric and tattooed scar decorating my pounding heart...I will love you despite the silence and the absence...the sort only we two can comprehend...I will love you...I do love you...always and forever...je t'aime...

    ©electric_infamy

  • electric_infamy 1d

    Speaking of Sleeping Standing Up

    It would almost be funny
    To see you in the here and now
    With all the practiced malice
    And the careful pattern of deceit
    You still cling to
    Clenched in a fist of misplaced rage
    And a tight lipped plastic smile
    That hides a mouth bent on war
    And decimation

    A caricature of all the nightmare clichés
    A pathetic pantomime
    And yet you still think
    You're the pinnacle of fright
    But you're nothing more
    Than the wisp of a reflection
    Unworthy of a mention
    Left to the scraps of solar flares
    Forgotten and haunted

    ©electric_infamy

  • electric_infamy 1d

    Day 17 of #NaPoWriMo using the prompt "power" from #escapril2021 and "the decades of decay" from #kissoftheseventhstarprompts ...getting closer to being caught up...
    #poetry #poet #poem #writeeveryday #author #published #electricinfamy #neonsunrisepublishing

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    ...and now a word from our sponsors...

    We tend not to speak of failures
    At least not in any way constructive
    Preferring to excise and redact
    Those inconvenient details
    The kind of historical revisionism
    Wielded by acolytes who lust for power
    They could never hope to see
    Let alone control
    But we're all victors here
    Perched atop this teetering mound
    Of freezing ash and bleached bone
    Deflecting decades of decay
    With the shining promises
    Of our own self-important greatness

    ©electric_infamy

  • wakaranai 1d

    //Home is .. ever changing//

    This is a prompt I've written on before, and a prompt I've always felt familiar with deep within. Perhaps it's because it's a perpetual feeling, or perhaps the comfort I find in the idea of that
    Perfect moment.
    Perfect place.
    Perfect memory.
    Perfect song.
    Perfect movie.
    Perfect book.
    Perfect friend(s).
    Perfect conversation.
    Perfect hobby.
    Perfect vacation.
    Perfect looks.
    Perfect person.
    Perfect career.
    Perfect time.

    But does it really have to be perfect all the time? Does home really have to settle in all of your missing pieces and make you feel complete? Isn't feeling complete the same as feeling dead, because once you're complete, what is there to even look forward to?

    Probably nothing. That's what one would normally think, and just shun away the thought of home saying that it's either worthless to think that home exists, or its the only thing you've craved for since the day you were born.

    What if it's neither?

    What if it's just a ecstacy that comes by to kiss you with the wind?
    What if it's just a flower that blooms at the dawn of a spring?
    What if it's just a reminder to cherish moments that made you fall asleep?
    What if it's the sound of your heart beating with love,
    the one that never lets you sleep?

    Robert Frost says he's got miles to go before he sleeps. And as cliché as this reference is, do we really wonder what he really meant by this? Why is it that his poem is heard by millions and still talked of today, when there are a million different roads decorated with a billion different poems? I feel it's because we all relate to him. Maybe it's forced on us, yes, but we all know we've got long ways to go, even if we're exactly where millions would love to be right now.

    I don't know what's home anymore. And I don't know if I want to be poetic about it, because that would kill the entire meaning behind my puny existence. Because what's the point in belittling everything to one single entity? And isn't it belittling the existence of home too?

    Maybe it's supposed to be much bigger than you think it is, and maybe you're supposed to find it in bits and pieces of all possible little things!
    Maybe you'd never find it even if you know how it should feel, and maybe you'd find it exactly when you'd have no idea what it is!

    Isn't it the best to just let home be, while we got miles to go before we sleep?

    I know this is a very substandard write-up, but I really feel like this needs to be said. No offense to those who have their own home, everybody does. And so do I. But I don't think that whatever we call home today, is absolute. I don't think it's supposed to be that way.

    And I know you'd say it's absolute for just you, and not for everyone. But the point here is that even for you that might not be absolute, because you might not feel the same way anymore. Even if you feel the same way anymore, it might not be as intense. It might be even more overwhelming tomorrow, and it might amount to nothing when things take a back seat. And even if you do let it remain the way it has always been, until today, do you really think you're doing justice to your home?

    Think about it.

    Isn't home, of all feelings, supposed to make you feel absolutely free?

    To be anything and everything you ever wished to be?

    #NaPoWriMo #pod

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    Set yourself free.

  • electric_infamy 1d

    Day 16 of #NaPoWriMo using the #escapril2021 prompt "bird of paradise"...still catching up...
    #poetry #poet #poem #writeeveryday #author #published #electricinfamy #neonsunrisepublishing

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    The Pulse Unbroken

    I found solace in the thunderstorm
    The way the rain danced on the windows
    And the lightning crawled across the sky
    Minimized the internal tension
    The anxiety begging for attention
    Melting back into the rumbling distance
    Left to breathe
    To listen

    Daybreak saunters in
    Bisecting shadows
    Reflecting golden radiation
    Across acres of calm
    Outside my windowsill
    And a Bird of Paradise unfolds
    Resplendent in orange and violet

    Life hums
    Life abides

    ©electric_infamy

  • hamallaxmi 1d

    Day 19

    It was long tire some
    Yet adventoures journey
    While turning the pages
    Of the book,
    I found a flower pressed
    Against it,
    It was all withered
    With the letter attached to it.
    As I opened the letter
    I found a picture
    Of a dog
    With an old man beside him.
    The moment I saw
    I couldn't think about
    My bhote
    My bundle of joy
    My sawari.
    I miss him.
    Who always kept wagging his tale
    And slept beside me.
    I kept aside the picture and
    Started reading the letter.
    With every line I was reading
    Thousands of emotions
    Seeped in my heart.
    I could see my resemblance
    As I went on to read the other half of the letter
    As mirror reflecting the pictures
    Of my own self.
    Meanwhile I settled out with my emotions.
    It read
    April come, take this heart away.
    I ain't know whom to this
    Letter was.
    But I was sure of one thing.
    Who has written this has really
    Deep resonating ocean Full
    Of mixed feelings.
    On the other end of it had mentioned
    The story remembered wrong.
    I will Love you.
    Until rainbow becomes monochrome.
    Yours,
    Awaiting Home.
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    #napowrimo #napowrimo2021 #glopowrimo

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    Awaiting Home

    ©hamallaxmi

  • sidhubalkaran 2d

    Day 16/26 of #napowrimo2021
    We apply the concept of Palindromes in this form of poetry. A Palindrome poem is divided into two halves, with same set of words in both the halves. However the order of words in the second half must be in reverse. Note that there is a word in the middle which acts as a bridge between the two halves. Due to this structure of two halves, it is also known as ‘Mirror Poetry’
    While the rules sound very simple, it is equally harder to execute them. For instance, you can’t start the poem with words like ‘A’ and ‘the’ unless you plan to end the poem with them. You will have to use short phrases with minimum use of conjuctions as you have to make sure your words make sense both in the first half and on the way back.
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    #palindrome #palindromepoetry #mirakee #writersnetwork #writing #poetry #poem #poems #shortpoems #napowrimo2020 #napowrimo #pod #postoftheday #poemoftheday #newpoem

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    P for Palindrome Poetry

    Love awakens and
    life changes
    Metaphors of desire
    Moments sweep you
    Till dreams become ashes
    Love is
    Palindromic,
    is Love?
    Ashes become dreams
    till you sweep moments
    Desire of metaphors
    changes life
    and awakens love.

  • harshad09 2d

    On the esplanade
    deserted, semi-lit
    it's 2 a.m. already
    a long drive casual
    it's turning out to be
    an imagery surreal
    a fantasy strived
    it's like constellation
    ethereal

    at this hour
    when the world around
    it has fallen asleep
    you are in a car
    with a beautiful boy
    hearts left to pound
    sounds amplified beep
    glasses rolled up
    dopamine glides
    rollercoaster trips

    interlocked hands
    time travel faster
    dark light strands
    sentiments foster
    as he moves and
    moves a bit closer
    denials deceptive
    fight to evade closure

    fog, thinner membranous
    makes night scintillating
    Triggered ignited hues
    passion desirous calling
    as if portraying fall
    chills keep riding the wind
    either to or not to mind
    resolutions keep falling

    unleashing aura
    of touches intimate
    jeopardy finds flora
    repentance to hibernate
    colder airs shouting
    excitement and thrill
    despite air-conditioning
    backseat seems trademill

    bodies entangled
    breathes colliding
    interlocked lips
    expressions avoiding
    green each, turns yellow
    orange red and brown
    groovy mazes shallow
    uncovered mellow
    skin thrown away
    velvety party gown

    his fingers attempting
    to display workmanship
    record graphs fluctuating
    charms spelt of body worship
    sprinkling aurora
    Autumnus sets the harvest
    a night of assumption
    becomes home to craftsmanship
    Horae rewriting seasons
    allows flow of bewildered zest

    Monarch butterflies
    seem getting off to travel
    intimacies untwined
    smears foggy to unravel
    moans fill the clan
    silence after the storm
    eve eats the apple
    cocks crowing, it's dawn
    fort each joyous charm
    creases boasting crumple


    #napowrimo

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    SPRIGHT LIGHT NIGHT

    ©harshad09

  • hamallaxmi 2d

    Day 18

    I was pondering to
    Spill out about
    Love on paper
    Of that exact same
    diary which
    You had gifted me a
    Few years ago.
    I never had such beautiful
    Diary.
    I really don't understand
    How did you got to know
    That I like these littlest
    Things.
    Post cards, dried flowers,
    Fountain pen, hand written letters,
    And cards filled with love.
    I do remember you saying
    Pour your heart out in
    This diary.
    But I never did.
    Today i am clueless
    How it got in my hands
    After years.
    You see I handled it with care
    I caressed it's papers
    It smelled like you.
    Like your colonge.
    It had its roughness like you had
    Those dark deep eyes
    Reflected with the unseen pain.
    The face gleaming with
    Smile.
    Heart of a pure kid
    Filled with kindness,
    Joy and hope.
    I never knew
    In what kind of reconnoitre
    Mission you were in.
    But there was this quality
    In you of never being rude
    I didn't knew how you handled
    It.
    Maybe you didn't show to hide
    Pain.
    Just an another way of fighting
    With your mind.
    I do remember that night
    Near some beach in South Bombay
    You had let you voice take over
    The night.
    That melody is still ringing in my
    Ear.
    Chura liya he tumne jo dil ko...
    That moment I felt.
    Love was beyond magical.
    It either makes you
    Or either shatters you.
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    #napowrimo #napowrimo2021 #love #alittlelove

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    A little love

    ©hamallaxmi

  • sidhubalkaran 3d

    Day 15/26 of #napowrimo2021
    Ottava Rima is a poetry form of Italian origin. This form came into being around the late 13th and early 14thcentury and was developed by Tuscan poets. It started out as a form for epic and narrative verse but overtime has been adapted for wide array of subjects.

    An Ottava Rima stanza has 8 lines with an abababcc rhyme scheme and is written in Iambic pentameter (10 syllables). Some sources on this form define it as a poem with 8 lines of 11 syllables each. It can work as a stand-alone poem or with multiple stanzas.
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    #mirakee #writersnetwork #writing @writersnetwork @mirakee #pod #poemoftheday #postoftheday #mirakeewrites #napowrimo #napowrimo2021 #ottavarima #sidhulogy #instapoets

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    O for Ottava Rima

    It came to me seeking myself anew
    Dear old ego writhing in agony
    Probing me for some sacred darkness too
    Waking up the man living inside me
    She walks with me, a purpose to pursue
    Carrying a list of those who wronged me
    A thread, a nail, and few judgments to cast
    and burn down the home that houses the past.

  • manosrija 3d

    Darkness
    _______________

    Some lights were big
    so were the smiles
    blessing the pretty looks
    that adore affluence,
    The smaller lights shone
    on way too many,
    Their faces still unseen.

    The walls are tough-
    too high to climb
    too strong to break
    too fragile to bend;
    The larger lights glorify them
    As the smaller ones merely agree.

    Oh! A sudden power-cut
    They said a fault in the system
    The darkness dawns
    on all sides of the wall;
    I see those vanish,
    As we recede in you.

    The walls are falling
    I stand in the dark,
    The lights on success
    can no longer mock the failures;
    With your equal hand
    You stand by time,
    I bow down to life.

    @writersnetwork @writerstolli
    #darkness #equalhand #napowrimo

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    Darkness

    ©manosrija

  • sheena 3d

    Ars Poetica

    A poem should add life to a blank page,
    Like the touch of rain, on a parched land
    It should feed warmth to a heart
    Even if it doesn't rhyme,
    Poems should hold muse like a mother's hug
    Comforting enough like an old rug,
    They might not have a lot of lines
    Yet; they leave a deep expression behind

    ©sheena

  • electric_infamy 3d

    Day 15 of #NaPoWriMo using the #escapril2021 prompt "planes/trains/automobiles" - playing catch up....
    #poetry #poet #poem #writeeveryday #author #published #electricinfamy #neonsunrisepublishing

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    Grounded and Restless

    Strange
    The things you find yourself longing for
    In the grip of isolation

    I never thought to miss the sight
    Of arrivals and departures
    Baggage claim and safety checkpoints
    The thrill of takeoff and a plane in flight

    Never thought to miss the sound
    Of air brakes and mechanical doors
    The rhythmic clacking of track on trestles
    And the countryside gliding past
    In the streak of a bullet train

    Never thought to miss the feeling
    Of open highways and mountain roads
    The rush of air and the Clash on the stereo
    Miles devoured in the dead of night
    Cross country road trip
    In a borrowed automobile

    Will it ever feel the same?

    ©electric_infamy

  • hamallaxmi 3d

    Day 17
    /How did you meet your best friend/

    2018 June
    I remember you were in jeans
    Scarf over your neck.
    Nails painted with grayish silver.
    First time I saw you I thought
    You were a bengali.

    Initially we were bit hesitant
    To talk
    I don't even remember who
    Started the conversation
    I think it was you.

    You asked me about the
    Kind of books I read
    Cause we were in Book sale haul
    Slowly we started getting
    To know each other within 2 hours
    We followed each other
    In all the social media
    And exchanged numbers too.

    We got bonded so closely
    By lunch time that other people
    Started asking you guys
    Know each other?
    You guys are bestfriend?
    That very moment we saw each other's face and started laughing

    You even started calling me behen
    And my world inside me was dancing
    With joy.
    We had lunch together
    We laughed at silly things
    We were imitating people.

    Within one day we got so close
    We couldn't resist meeting each other
    The very next time.
    Trying out new stuff,
    Exploring
    Do you remember we used to explore
    3-4 cafes in a day.
    Our ATA hugs, endless calls, endless photo sessions.

    Even after being from complete
    Strangers to being
    Completely nomad.
    We shared every gossip we had.
    And we shared the worst fears and
    Joys of our Life.

    Don't you think books have
    actually connected us?
    Books really got us together.
    .
    .
    .
    #napowrimo #napowrimo2021 #poetry #poems #howdidyoumeetyourfriend

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    How did you meet your friend

    ©hamallaxmi

  • manosrija 1w

    Time Machine
    ___________________________

    My terrace is a time machine!

    Stepping on the open square,
    Throwing a gaze into the dark,
    I see the man-made lights below
    And the celestial giants twinkling above.

    The maze grows complicated
    as my eyes stretch more,
    The blind alleys I see
    makes my heart so sore;
    I wish to find you,
    but here I see no end...

    The lights from the streets,
    From the factory, the smoke,
    The bright decorations for
    some auspicious event
    At my unknown neighbor's door,
    I'm blinded.

    Clutching my head I gaze into the stars;
    I remove my spects... The clarity dissolves,
    I look down upon the extent of brick
    As absurdity turns the lights and smoke
    to an endless sea of sparkling colors,
    Beautiful to behold.
    I see what no one can,
    How the grasping civilization
    smiles on me,
    The devouring brightness receding in background,
    The time has stopped
    I wait for you- to see.

    -Manosrija

    @writersbay @readwriteunite @writersnetwork #napowrimo

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    Time Machine

    ©manosrija