4964 posts
  • shaundele 6w

    That's what I thought

    Until I was moonstruck
    Reintroduced to the magnificent beauty hanging in the sky
    Touched by her majestic glow
    Wrapped in her cool, luminous essence
    Her phases, her splendor

    Absolute lunacy
    How something so far
    So distant and small
    A mere rock, floating in a sea of darkness
    A sea of other rocks
    Following, tracing
    Hardly an element on it's own,
    Could be so
    So mystical

    Not overrated
    Simply Magical


  • sagnik 7w

    Yet not to be

    Happy asphyxiating tunes coalesced into gloomy strokes of the sky,
    Shedding flowers of the tree of dreams, blooming black leaves,
    Shivering wind rattles window panes caressing the dry wood;
    It's nearly dawn, cold, dark and almost true.

    Wishes are like castle of feathers, untruly extravagant.
    Sssshhh! Kids are asleep, dreaming about fantasies,
    Naive they are to believe in tales, fables and myths,
    In dreams yet to change, yet to be forgotten, again!

  • lalitjoshi 7w

    ऐसा सौदा किया हज़ार दफा,
    अपना सब कुछ लुटा दिया हमने,
    सारे घाटों पे हक जमा अपना,
    फ़ायदा उनको दे दिया हमने ।
    इश्क उनको हुआ जो गैरों से,
    अपना दिल ही बदल लिया हमने।
    जिस गली थी कभी बसर अपनी,
    उससे रस्ता बदल लिया हमने।
    सब तो गुलशन से फूल लेके चले,
    एक जो कांटा था ले लिया हमने।
    जब न चल पाया ज़ोर औरों पर,
    क़त्ल ख़ुद ही का कर लिया हमने।


  • creative_index 9w

    I ask, why there's nothing much left
    Where once there was a bloom
    All brisk withered, all rosiness gone
    And ardour within foredoom

    When intrigue sprouted out in quest
    For the soul, an exploit to sate
    The deeds rested as if eye lashes
    Causing vision to rejuvenate

    But now I see only rifts and cracks
    Stretched and tore afar
    That carve the persona silver lining
    Ousting inner grace with a scar

    Is it the world or the air tide?
    Or drought of emotional reap
    That numbs you and bestow upon
    A curse, only you shall seek

    No no, it's just the inner order
    Shemozzling the strings of rationale
    Soaking, curbing, shrivelling the dazzle
    And causing the pulp to pale

    @mirakee @writersnetwork @readwriteunite #mirakeeapp #WriterMystery #poetry #poem #get_repost #writerly @hindiwriters #repost
    #creativewriter #truth

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  • indranildutta 9w

    #pod #mirakee #writersnetwork #readwriteunite #alone #lonely #introvert #writerly #definingMyself #discussion

    Until I left for college when I was 17, I had this weird tendency to look out the window of my bedroom at the market by the street near our house, to see if the stores were closed yet. Of course, they closed at the same time every night. I liked seeing the lights on, the people walking in from their cars, imagining them walking around inside the small shops, smelling the greasy fries in a small basket in the stores, picking a snack, maybe quickly, maybe after a long debate. I loved the idea of people moving around in the world outside, especially when things inside felt desperate and awful. As long as there was movement, I was not alone.

    So far in life, I've had a strange relationship with being alone. Even as a kid, I was more likely to choose being by myself over spending time with other people. (The exception was high school, when I completely believed that not having a plan for every week made you an aberration.) Now, that my teenage is over, being alone is something I crave like food. I need to be alone a lot, in ways that are complicated and bewildering, I think, to some of the people around me.

    I am good at being alone, it's one of the things I like most about myself. I'm proud of it. Knowing that being alone is something I'm not only comfortable with, but crave, has meant that I seem to need less of it. As long as I can close a door, or walk away, or sit by myself, I'm fine. Being alone makes me feel powerful and peaceful. It makes me feel like my brain is a gold mine, and I'm so lucky to have this imagination. Being alone has always felt deeply indulgent to me, like a day off or being able to buy whatever you want. I can subsume the need, of course, if I have to, and there's a part of me that thrives on crowds and bustle and ambient noise. Too much, though, and I get cranky and sad and thoroughly unpleasant.

    I am a person who needs a lot of space, not the physical sort, but the distance from others kind. I'm pretty sure I can't go on vacation with someone because I'd be grouchy if I couldn't spend at least 60% of the time alone, wandering the streets, watching nature or reading. This is something I'm pretty sure (very sure, actually) that a few people in my life find disarming because eventually you're supposed to stop being by yourself and find someone to be with instead. You stop being a solitary creature with your own space and start building a space with someone else. And then you add more people to that space. You should do this for a lot of reasons, but also...you don't REALLY want to be alone, right?

    We have bought this, I think, the idea that being alone is something we should avoid at all costs. Women who are alone, who live alone after a certain age, who aren't partnered, are pathetic and deeply suspicious. Men who are alone are either oversexed, perpetual teenagers, sad, asexual creatures, or creepy perverts. Being by yourself is not a choice anyone in their right mind is supposed to opt for.

    Charles Bukowski wrote, "Loneliness is something I've never been bothered with because I've always had this terrible itch for solitude." It's important to know the difference between being alone and being lonely, and they're often confused. For me, being alone is something I choose, loneliness is the result of being alone, or feeling alone when I haven't chosen it, but they aren't the same, and they don't necessarily lead to one another.

    It's assumed that if you are alone, you must be lonely, or there must be something wrong, especially in a culture in which we emphasize the heterosexual couple as the symbol of the ultimate satisfaction. Spending time alone is another method of developing a relationship with myself, of actively engaging with what I want and what the possibilities could be. It's a loss, I think, that being alone has become something else that we police socially, because the result is that we miss out on an important part of what it means to live in our bodies.

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    For me,
    Being alone is
    I choose,
    is the result
    Of being alone,
    Or feeling alone
    But only when I
    Haven't chosen it,
    But they
    Aren't the same,
    And they
    Don't necessarily
    Lead to one another.


  • scribblyink 27w

    When I just had thoughts that pondered my mind

    You winked,
    I sinked.

    You feel for me,
    That killed me in.

    You wrote for me,
    I fell for you.

    You hugged me,
    That was adorable.

    You ignored me,
    I was shattered

  • rabiya_masood 30w

    Where I belong...

    Articulating words & channeling thoughts...
    In the midst of creating sense, feelings got lost!
    I gave up on hopelessness, a while ago
    Started looking with curiosity, what life's gotta show!
    Found my composure and some closure!
    After being witness to some indecent exposure,
    I learned that feelings are fleeting, indeed
    Yet, you never grow if you never bleed!
    Life is a mess, needless to confess!
    It's gratifying pleasure & at times utter distress...
    They say you need darkness to see the light,
    To claim your peace, you have to fight...
    I have been fighting and I will tread light!
    I have always stood and will stand for what's right!
    For I have faith and faith so strong!
    With Almighty's grace I will reach where I belong!


  • vincent 31w

    Walking away from a life you've grown used to but the knowledge of impeding destruction because of it wakes you up. Will you wait for salvation or be your own retribution?

    #poetry #mirakee #writersnetwork #writerly #original #literature #emptiness #melancholy

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    Embers of My House

    Engulfed in a drop of rain,
    I watch the House burn in Past flames.
    Misty eyed I see the glass crumble on itself,
    The Door seems shut yet it’s not, I know.
    Ghosts still live there more alive than the living;
    While the beings have forgot how to breathe.

    Cognizance of smiles and wants to be loved,
    Walls haven’t known them for long.
    Flowers are dead and the vase is dried,
    The House cremates itself for a desperate void.
    Albums of grass and small shoes,
    Up in flames like pigeons in flight.

    Profusion of remembered pain fuels the Fire,
    Seas of companions is nowhere near.
    Should I depart or join the familiar Floors?
    Laughter of relief or a cry of Loss?
    The drop will collapse now;
    Either run or crawl away.

  • sagnik 32w

    Your Reality

    Someday you wake up in blues
    Realising it's time to fade,
    Will you regret for your mistakes,
    Or the steps you wished but procrastinated?

    You aren't the master of reality,
    But certainly you can dream.
    Be honest for once today,
    Do you want this life to live?

    We are in a quest to search
    To think the meaning of life,
    Life slips slowly out of the grip
    Wuthering away the sands of time.

    You don't know what's coming tomorrow
    Time may not allow you another day to keep,
    Why don't you take the steps today,
    Trying to reach the miles before sleep?

    Fear no gamble and make mistakes
    Move out of illusion and try to breathe,
    We are no god meant to be perfect
    We are mortals who wish to live.

    You don't need an Elysium to be at peace,
    Enjoy through the imperfections of esse.
    Listen to your heart and to your dreams,
    Before getting dragged by the crafted reality.

  • devlinphoenix 33w

    Living Mosaic

    Little part of me dies,
    Replaced by the colored dark
    To conceal my every mark-
    I achieve Everytime you push me down
    And I break apart.

    Living mosaic-
    I'm an art.
    Trapped inside the walls
    Of your fragmenting lies,
    Smeared with the same blood of yours,
    Half of which is mine to despise.

    I wish I could revert it back
    All to the time-
    When I was not a mistake.
    I wish the shot was retake.
    And my life now would not have been at stake.


  • sagnik 36w

    Remember? Us.

    There's a bunch of photos under my pillow
    I don't look at them nor can I get rid.
    Too precious yet painful for me,
    I still have them intact under my pillow.

    Fog makes the windows hazy in the mornings,
    I still draw your name on it,
    I just want to thank you for the days
    For those cherished memories.

    We weren't made to last forever,
    Maybe it was meant to be brief.
    Your smiles are dusty in my mind
    Darling enough to keep.

    A perfect match which didn't last long
    But a fairytale it seems,
    I still fall for you
    When I think of our first kiss.

    You loved me with my imperfections
    I cried holding you on the darkest night,
    Writing these lines today as I think,
    How I loved us, how we shined bright.

    Do you still remember us together,
    Hope you don't regret our days.
    You're a memory now in my diary,
    I shall always love us this way.

  • sagnik 37w


    I'm happy sitting on my roof
    Sipping a cup of hot coffee,
    Rain has stopped a while ago
    It's cool up here with a breeze.

    I see the houses far to my left
    Lime, teal, red and white,
    Bluish waves echoing peace
    Under the dull Scandinavian sky.

    Pastel houses are common here
    I smell some grilled haddock fish,
    Northern hills don't know my past
    Sailed new to these Lofoten lands.

    Getting colder as the night grows,
    I stare blankly into the dark
    It's peaceful here as no one knows me,
    Away from the reach of desolate dust.

  • sagnik 37w

    Faded light

    Autumn calls, by the hill side
    Driving past the city lights,
    Gentle wind kissing my face
    Pink skies and dusky cigarette.

    The hill twinkles in the far East,
    I see a silhouette through the mist
    It might have been you on the cliff,
    Or maybe a thought I can't get rid.

    Know these roads these street lights,
    I'have been here long before tonight.
    Memories smell of you I try not to feel;
    Footprints of love, transient real, requited reel.

    It was only autumn last time here,
    My arms were empty this time
    Wanted to stop, stand and stare a bit
    Refused, I drove past the stale mist.

    Didn't want to touch it again and,
    Present emptiness this time
    Let us be together somewhere
    In someone's silver memory line.

  • sagnik 38w


    Scribbling messy faces on the wall
    Smiling colours on the numb guise,
    Are you still swallowing disappointments?
    Broken dreams are won here as prize.

    It's grey down here even in summers,
    You've choked yourself before the rest
    Aren't you done receiving counterfeit love
    And, dead flowers on the crest?

    The kitchen sink is still wet
    Sympathy is what you ask for,
    Your tears are not dry yet,
    Still drowning inside that deluded mist?

  • devlinphoenix 41w


    When you're a father, you treat me like a woman.
    When you're a brother, you treat me like a woman.
    When you're a boyfriend, you treat me like a woman .
    When you're a husband, you still treat me the same woman.
    Why a woman, a lady or a girl?
    Why not a human first of all?
    Why is it only my robes that get burnt, when you're fragile too?
    Why is it only me whose character is decided by the time earned by you?
    Why can you assume all the guys in my friend list to be flirting with me?
    Why can't I feel free even when I think independent and broadly?
    Why only judged as a woman but not a Human?
    Why is it a mistake earning me a life treason?


  • wi1d_fl0wer 41w

    Weaving the thread of your warm memories in a blanket;
    Stealing colours from our ecstatics ; painting canvasses.
    Watering the roses with tears.
    Dining along the wind of your mist.
    Sipping tea with the honey of our dreams; holding it in a cup with the lustre of your simper.
    Cooking broth; with the garnish of your thoughts
    Listening to your lilting voice as the symphony which calms all the storms, seen and unseen .
    Writing locutions that sleep on the lap of my unsent letters to you
    Dazzling my caliginosities with your eyes that had those lights
    how else did you think , i am spending these cold winter nights.


  • dhwani_machhi 43w

    You are the poem
    I try to write about
    But, I can never finish
    Writing this poem
    Because, you
    Are the person
    Who always complicates
    Complicates self
    Complicates me
    And all my thoughts
    Thoughts about me
    Thoughts about the poem
    I try to write about.

  • dhwani_machhi 43w

    We all break
    Or other
    It's okay to be hurt
    Hurting is healing
    Putting aside your soul
    Your mind
    For a day
    Or weeks
    Is okay
    You don't owe someone
    Your happiness
    Your sadness
    But once a while
    Just let your heart think
    Of people
    Who mind you
    Who loves you
    Who let you feel
    That you have power
    Power to be stronger
    As days pass by
    Power to be loved
    As life goes on
    Power to be you
    As people moves on
    Power to realise
    You are fire being yourself.

  • lalitjoshi 43w

    मैंने देखा है प्रकृति को ,
    सजधज कर दरिया-दरपन में,
    या फिर किसी झील में झुककर
    खुद की ही छवि को निहारते, और फिर इतराते देखा है।

    और निर्जन पर्वत प्रदेश में,
    पल-पल में परिवर्तित होते,
    उसके मतवाले रंगों को,
    देखा है, महसूस किया है, जी भर उनके संग खेला है।

    प्रातः की निद्रा से बोझिल
    'बस पल भर' सोने को आतुर
    अलसाई ठंडी सुबहों को
    घुप्प अंधेरे कोहरे की चादर में अलसाते देखा है।

    अल्लसुबह से उठकर बैठी,
    खेती के कामों में उलझी,
    थकी हुई उन दुपहरियों को,
    अमराई की गोदी में सर रख सुस्ताते भी देखा है।

    और सुरमई उन शामों को,
    बच्चों के खेलों में थककर,
    अक्सर बेहोशी की मानिद
    रातों के शीतल आँचल में छुपकर सोते भी देखा है।

    प्रातः के चंचल सूरज को,
    नदियों, झरनों के पानी से,
    हरी दूब पर अधलेटी सी
    ओस की उन झिलमिल बूंदों से क्रीड़ाएं करते देखा है।

    पावस ऋतु में, मेघों के
    मतवाले उन छोटे बच्चों को
    दूर पहाड़ों की चोटी से,
    या फिर पेड़ों की साखों से मस्ती करते भी देखा है।

  • rabiya_masood 43w


    My heart is blue...
    And you are without a clue!
    I reminse the time,
    We believed, we'd get through!
    May has gone by, now its June...
    Thinking of you every night,
    I speak to the moon!
    Hours and moments fade away!
    You have painted my perfect blue skies,
    a gloomy shade of grey!