Okay first things first, it's not Mirakee and Miraquill now, that was surprising to see though, have seen crazy changes in the past 5 years in the growth, exponential and stunted, in people and the app. So what's there in a name. (It pricks somewhere about not being able to use a picture, but alright)
As it's being seen, how writers put in efforts (most of us do) to convey a message, the feedback isn't being given in the same fervour as it should be. Criticism as it's been hammered in here by only a handful here, constructive or destructive should be a prime cause to reflect and work upon to only get better. Flowery language, adulations and appreciations and pretty emojis all seem hollow, because certainly it doesn't require one ounce of effort.
This is just a preachy rant,
To conclude, it's just an experiment of sorts, don't exploit it (or me or Doc) (because time constraints)
I believe @clichepenname and I are genuine readers, and maybe a genuine feedback may or may not work wonders in getting better but it's a start. (Please don't think I'm being high and full of airs, I want to see the place I called my Home, now broken, full of better people and writers)
So please tag me with my username or @/clichepenname or use the hashtag #honestgranny in the caption. Hope others join in reading and writing, and simply encouraging in getting better.
The city born out of the blue, or green reeked of sweat and dreams and starts living in narrow roads and broader minds where talkative trees grew in the past, present as silent spectators in tall buildings that competed in a rat race struggling to find a space, a pause in the walls of crowd to breathe, out of breath where monotony walked, brushing shoulders trimming beards of leisure at a price, under the sky that undressed, changing into different clothes yet painting the city grey never sleeping killing in its own way that atleast made the living stop, for once.
There was my cycle where I had last kept it, gathering dust.
A fresh paint of rust chipped off, falling onto the floor, like I did when both of us were young, smiling, riding like the wind, a skeleton of our youth, metallic bones, a pale skin.
The bell rang a frail whisper from its days of charm and song, when people didn't fail to turn twice, talking of our arrival, creaking past the noisy youth with blaring horns, a coughing shadow we had become.
My kid loves to sit on the withered seat, I don't stop him, the one that taught me to take the disallowed roads, pushed me into potholes, watched me grow, he was me now, mimicking my past.
| A VERSE AND A PEN CHALLENGE | (Part 03: Seeking the hidden)
Hello!! *appears in Miraquill after many days just like Taylor Swift gets up from her grave in "Look What You Made Me Do"*
Soo, when you all literally felt I had forgotten about the challenge, I'm here, coming out like a demon XD
This post is being posted half-heartedly, since the tour for Karnataka which was planned for the prompt has been cancelled due to the host's health issues.
*receives all the bouquets, just in case someone gives* *listens to "Soon You'll Get Better" and gets calm* ________
As you all have known, the participants have been reviewed and scored by our FOUR lovely judges, who definitely deserve all of the love and appreciation.
But whom will you exactly appreciate? XD
~ So, all you have to do is guess the four judges' USERNAMES and mention them in the comments box. Please do not tag them, since I'll be sued if they do not turn out to be in the jury panel.
~ Clue 1: One of them is a gentleman and one of them is a lady for sure. ~ Clue 2: All of their usernames might or might not have a "p" in common, but have English alphabet letters for sure. ~ Clue 3: They are the judges of the challenge. ~ Clue 4: They are all Miraquilleans. ~ Clue 5: One of the judges is unexpected and surprising.
*Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? Cz I know that it's delicate* (swifties meanwhile get angry on me for dropping the most important clues)
~ Everyone is free to comment.
~ Whoever manages to guess the names of three or more (lol) judges correct, will be given my favourite book virtually.
Hurrayyyyy!! Let me laugh and enjoy now ________
P.S: Too many TS references since I'm listening only to her since a month. Queen <3
I'm not saying that I hate you, but I'd be lying if I say I don't find it disgusting when my feet get wet from puddles I'm trying to skip while walking home on rainy days, like the way I skip memories forming puddles in my head.
I carry a suitcase of memories.
Sometimes, I remember and feel too much. Midnights imprison my thoughts and I hug insomnia like a long-lost friend. I cling to things that I can't forget but I refuse to drown in shallow puddles, every time it rains.
I love rainy days so much that when it rains I pretend I'm a raindrop sliding and gliding on rooftops of old and new. Of those houses built in the Spanish era, back when basic prayers were taught to little children of six or seven years. Ah, the sweet memories from seven moons ago that come back to me in drizzles as I watch the rain with you on my mind.
Sometimes, melancholy weighs so heavy on my shoulders. I'm tired of what I can't let go of. Memories burn on my skin and they refuse to die. I don't know if I'll ever come to terms with being caught between hellos and goodbyes. I remember people leaving and I watch memories crumble and slip away right before my eyes.The excess baggage lay still on the floor, waiting for its departure that is yet to come. From a distance, they look like puddles of wrinkled faces left after the rain.