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  • khola_hawa 45w

    I wear a mask each day
    Someday of a lover, someday a healer,
    A chaperone, a warrior or a sinner
    and others mostly a simple meek woman.

    Camouflaging tears with smile
    Fear with stamina,
    Anxiety with serenity,
    Prevision with reality,
    Depression with perfection
    Have become my pursuit, these days.

    Sometimes, I glorify heartbreak
    Leaving a trail behind
    As a part of my soul,
    But in tiny fragments,
    For you to fix and follow
    And see the beauty in healing,
    So empowered, unfettered and free;

    While others I paint the town red for you
    with the warmth of my enigma
    Border them deep with whims,
    To let you sail
    Along the ripples of your
    Deepest yearning.

    I want to weave a dream where
    Embers of wildfire die sooner,
    Scars heal, miracles happen,
    How at the end hope and joy embrace
    And Tragedy drowns in murky despair;

    I want you to believe in life.

    But, have you ever noticed
    the Language of my eyes?
    They are as broken as yours
    But supposed to
    Be hidden behind the copyrights.

    You smile, praise, clap, honour
    For I am the so-called poet of your slam
    and my poetry is your perfect Chameleon

    ~khola hawa

    #writersnetwork #pod #mirakee

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    You smile, praise, clap, honour
    For I am the so-called poet of your slam
    and my poetry is your perfect Chameleon

  • khola_hawa 45w

    ������'�� �������� ���������� ����������, �������������� ������ ���������������������� ����������

    It is in the rumours, Peace, harmony and equilibrium are perhaps three abandoned daughters, life seem to forget deliberately, from time to time.

    For long, I have watched peace shrivel and curl in the flames of acceptance. Also, witnessed harmony lingering alongside, in disdain and hostility, for a day so perfect, To rise for an attempt to enforce its existence. Equilibrium too played its role right, to snare opportunities of settlement. But, they were all but careful enough not to start grumbling about life.

    However, soul is their beloved mother with fierceness, iron will and a lionheart making her an invincible partner. She never rants or rages but rather plays to win on life.

    Everyone knew peace, harmony and equilibrium were, are and will forever be in the bloodline, yet life seems yet to be ready to embrace them.
    Till then, I will just wait with you and smile for the inevitable. Rather Beam to be precise.

    ~Khola Hawa
    #writersnetwork #mirakee

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  • khola_hawa 49w

    Aren't we all starving, trudging too hard,
    through the alleys of unjust
    To fit in the archetype of perfection?
    But what for, if I may ask?

    Staining the canopy of true happiness
    With vague trophies of ambition & appetite
    While being bruised inside,
    Does it really worth?

    A mere existence, poisoned,
    An endearment, filled with void
    Do you want a reality
    Swallowed by dust of time?

    Humans give it a thought!


    #writersnetwork #mirakee

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  • khola_hawa 51w

    "It has been rumoured in the community that you are depressed and soon to be divorced." Mother screamed in a worried tone.
    " Even if this is true, God forbid not, I am most certain yours was nothing but a love match the last time I checked " she continued without a trace of motherly caress.

    I bit my lips nervously, which has now gone quite dry complementing my pale face and hollowed eye socket as if all the rain in this world failed miserably to drench my preached heart.

    “Sometimes . . .” I said in a halting voice, “Mother, sometimes explanations are tough and there are reasons for our fears that we can’t quite formulate in mere words. It's embedded deep in our bones and we are wired to fit in the weather-worn gaps of society. This slices my heart in two every single day and the hand that wields the pain is none but mine. Mother, I feel like a frontline soldier, battling hard, wound stitched with faltered hope and frayed edge, and fated to die.
    Something I know to be true, but would sound foolish to anyone else, including you”
    I stared at her intuitively hoping she finds my fears, something very specific that haunted me every minute of every day and I know she knew that.

    Soon I could see her emotions slowly getting immersed in the motherly hue. I was soothed as if she knew with every fibre of her being what I was speaking about. Her eyes caught a flash of pain in the brief second before she embraced me in her arms.

    In her bosom, I felt home tenderly she caressed my hair and cupped my face in her gentle hands and said
    "We all die in the end, love.
    It is important how we live during the years when we are breathing. Fears will stay as long as you have a brain that can think and imagine."

    ~khola hawa

    Artwork credits @dianapedott

    @writersnetwork @mirakee
    #writersnetwork #mirakee

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  • khola_hawa 53w

    -----������������ ���� �� ����������������������-----

    Beauty had already been adequately discussed, drilled, dissected and this scribbler does not know what else to add or how to expand this topic, without being redundant. As you, my dear reader, already know, this two syllabic word has quite a handful of reputation by itself, in the breaths of rakes and rouges or the pages of social media of some barking feminists.

    But after a scrupulous and tedious reflection, this author feels the need to add a few syllabi of her judgment too on this subject.

    You must have been imprinted with the fact from childhood that beauty lies in the eyes of a beholder.
    But, I say, The patriarchal eyes of this society or yet another passer-by can give a mere definition of the word which is of aesthetic prominence only and has nothing noteworthy to bestow on its inner meaning.

    Beauty, my dear, is not what those two eyes perceive nor a mindless concept of arousing that trudge the uncouth beholder to the lanes of fantasy being oblivious from reality.

    Beauty is rather simple, modest. Beauty is large, small, petite, perfect, imperfect, bruised and whatnot, but never to be confined in the page or a line of the dictionary. One would rather find it similar to a mirror. You smile and it smiles back. You love it and it loves back .Sort of a blessing with a benediction and devotion all in one.

    Is there a necessity to add a definition to it?
    Perhaps, not.

    Yet, this poet is utmost sure that beauty sometimes too, just like you and me, feels a twinge of guilt or perhaps a touch of regret for being not so beautiful.

    But as I always say to my readers, let not the greys of winter dictate the warmth of your Spring.

    ~ Khola Hawa
    ��The credits of this mesmerising ball pen art go to none other than @biswaal Sir.

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #pod @writernetwork @mirakee

    23.01.2021 || @writersnetwork thank you so much for the repost. You are a gem ����

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  • khola_hawa 53w

    You're like a song of the ruins
    With shackled tongue
    And insidious soul
    engraved in the hauntings of yore
    sombre and hideous;

    Your melody trade dreams
    Much Like vague fantasies,
    Somewhat elusive
    With gaping lesions
    Exposed and thumping
    With vulnerability ;

    But your lyrics
    Always like a balmy murmur,
    Captivate my tear-soaked heart
    Between the horizons of
    Truth and fantasy
    And abscond my wistful solitude
    To the meadows of hope;

    My lips arch wide in rhythm
    While misery perish
    Bit by bit
    In the melodies of your tune.

    And I wonder
    Who is in a hurry to heal?

    -khola hawa

    #melody #writersnetwork #mirake #wod

    Edit : @writersnetwork thank you so much for the repost.���� Please keep supporting.

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    You're like a song
    of the ruins
    With shackled tongue
    And insidious soul
    engraved in the hauntings of yore
    sombre and hideous.


  • khola_hawa 53w

    Midnight rants


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    Moon and I

    Sat together for some
    melodramatic midnight
    gossips about the neighbour "Sun"

    Soon star gave a nudge
    as she blushed.
    Wearing the canopy of azure sky
    she commenced
    "Just a bud of stardust I am
    Voyaging through
    the memory lanes
    Bedaubed with scars,
    Yet each night I bloom
    Embracing his mystic aura
    And burn each dawn
    Sanctifying my withered soul
    With unfathomable ecstasy"

    They say to love is
    To sacrifice.

  • khola_hawa 54w

    God and Me
    I often see "HIM" residing alone in the biggest sculpture across the downside of our lane, pristine white, lofty Dome with an enormous Splendour.
    Stray Souls, meek maiden, ambiguous hearts, grievous faults, soaring ambitions, wanderlust blood were HIS only visitors searching for succour in the darkness.

    From far his world seems to be beyond my wonder, a refreshing tint to the mundane life, the utopia of bewitchment in the desert of
    daily sufferings.
    and mine, a hackneyed reality immersed in capitulating feeling of helplessness.

    But still, I wonder why, both of us are alone today as if riding an eternal flow of Life poised on a double-edged sword, toppling and sliding in persistent concern of unvalued

    Our smile, an exquisite fine veneer masking the reality and the glossy facade a perfect contrast to the otherwise blurred Darkness residing inside.

    But sometimes I pity "YOU" for in moments of tear and self loathe when clouds of obscure insignificance drown my spirit in dejection, there is the slightest chance, I may visit you to garner support but
    GOD, in despair who would you turn to?

    Khola hawa

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #pod

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  • khola_hawa 54w


  • khola_hawa 54w

    The Fault in Our Stars

    You bloom like a flower
    each day,incessantly
    in the empty canvas
    of my mind
    as the brushes of nostalgia
    Taint you with strokes of black and white.
    But, I have stopped using colours these days;

    Warm summer winds
    as they strike the canvas
    smell rusty ,little smoky too
    like it did that fateful day ,
    as my eyes flash
    Your ghostly grin
    gasping and struggling
    for the last ounce of breath ;

    I feel too much these days
    suffocation and abandonment
    puncture my lungs
    and hope is somewhere
    engraved in the arid landscapes
    of torment and wails.
    I cannot use crimson any longer
    as the haunting memories of red
    still spill your blood
    Against the pristine white wall
    and each day I die along with you ;

    Yet, You haven't changed...

    You Bloom like a flower
    Each day, even without rain
    And I cannot help
    But cherish your parched soul
    Collecting them as a

    @writersnetwork #mirakee #writersnetwork #wod #changetheworld #pod

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