Thank you @writersnetwork ❤(4) You made my day Though cliché, yet this post is a gentle reminder for all of us. Therefore, please read the complete post. ________________________________
1. I don't know how to write. Yet, I find myself immersed in the pool of thoughts that are perhaps the result of the circumstances that circumference my mind with the wires of emotions.
2. Just as the autumn sheds it's leaves in crimson yet each crimson is different. Likewise, so many writers attempt the same topics yet each one has it's own differentiable essence. They may use the same words, yet their creation is different.
3. We all have two eyes, two ears, one nose and lips. Yet, we all look different just like our gadgets. They are similar yet different.
4. Betwixt the particles of air travels the particles of our sound and gets communicated to the desired person.
5. Just as the swift movements of a renaissance painter seems effortless yet alive, in the same way our breath keeps our system open to enjoy our surroundings or else we may be numb.
6. We feel the Zephyr, enjoy a visual treat of gigantic cerulean waves, seraphic sunrise and sunset, serenity of virvidescent trees which is articulated with an amalgamation of Science, as if Science and Art are twins that are inseparable both physically as well as mentally.
7. We use hyperbole, alliteration, metaphor, simile etc to garner our poetry with a beauteous touch. In the same way, different moments of happiness, sadness, obstacles beautify our life instead of making it monotonous.
These things have lost their importance because of their regular nature. And we think that these things are done by us, and we think that we are the rulers of this world and everything is happening in accordance with our need.
And in the due process we put 'I' on the pedestal What if One day we wake up to find that 1. Our mind has filled its space with the void instead of thoughts?
2. Our faces look like facades of similarity?
3. Our tongue makes movements to bring out our voice but our larynx has failed to harmonise with our mouth?
3. We become hypoxic and our countless breaths needs a count to keep us alive?
4. We are surrounded by the monochrome colour of darkness and we are bereft of all the beauty that evokes our five senses?
If such things happen, they will draw a line of oblivion where anything will be everything and everything will be nothing and nothing will turn to infinity.
Therefore, we should insert this 'I' into 'HIM', instead of offering garland of laurel to it , and surrender ourselves completely because he is the one who is writing, speaking, working through us. All the artwork that we do, belongs to him for he has created our minds and he is the only one who is working through them. Therefore, we should be grateful to HIM for making us a part of his artwork. And we should respect all the other forms of HIS artwork.
_create_23True feelings delivered. We often forget to thank and appreciate the usual in order to find the unusual and uniqueness. Thank you for the reminder! Wonderfully potrayed. Congratulations on WN repost!
I wish dancing words on rhythm of a poem Had some spell and charm Through which they captivate the souls, And could sing the tale they want , I wish ,the brush, an artist holds The paper on which colours are poured Had the power to conjure That opens up the eyes of those, Who behold the art work with eyes closed, And tell them why the colours are bold, I wish, the tunes, a musician plays on Had little wings So, that they can enter in human beings And whisper the melody, The musician singing in him I wish,the gentle moves of ballerinas, Could create a euphoric world, which Invite the angels, fairies and nymphs To dance along with them;
I wish, the pen could portray what the writers exactly feel, The brush could paint what the painter wants to reveal The tunes could sing the lyric of singer's escaped thoughts, The footsteps of ballerinas could express those pain sitting silently in their hearts;
I wish, along with all its essential aspects, features and principles, I could add some touches of spells in every piece of arts and in every form of literature.
In the crowded stillness of the ocean I see the reflection of your smile that left exfoliating in the broad light Oh! eyes on me my love hear the rhythm of my beating heart echoing across the pearl of the orient sea for the promise of your love speak in faithfulness words for words stitched in my pulse rate your heart is a home where I reside for so long I can feel the rhythm inside someday, the same sounds, the same rhythm is where I cradle and held my final breath
Our room is still full of that acrylic smell, which reminds me of your paint smeared hair, your brushes with colourful stains are still in my drawer, poking sore memories rather cruelly, tiny tubes of paint, in various shapes, crooked from your insistent squeezing are still scattered across my table, and those pieces of art you left for me still stacked in my store room, portraying love, pain, anger and despair, reincarnate our life together which is just a mirage now, I don't know where you've gone, or why you've gone, but you are here with me in thousand forms, enclosing my days in shades and tints, astonishing me with your lines and curves, you were like your art, enigmatic from the outside, fascinating once you go deeper, layered with a great assortment of nuances, you illuminated my life with exceptional vividness, you never talked about your feelings, but I could see them in your paintings, they crooned for your love, screamed for your sorrows, and shouted for your fury, they embodies your rights and wrongs, and you are alive for me in those canvases, Wherever you are, remember, I love you more than anything in this world, and the fragments of your soul you rendered with grandeur in these paintings will be cherished, forever and always, in my life and heart.