manisha_rameshbabu

An introvert trying to give my words little freedom ��

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  • manisha_rameshbabu 5w

    Call me wind if you do please
    Calm me down with your breeze
    Let's seek those clouds playing hide and seek
    To mizzle magic that bleaches blues of midweek

    A part of me is holding back tears
    And another part in dark daunting sphere
    Revolving in an emotional orbit
    Again and again in phase with my heartbeat

    I breathe, wait and hope
    Clinging to the end of rope
    I see my fear greeting open arms
    Ms. Luck seems to have lost her charms

    ©manisha_rameshbabu

  • manisha_rameshbabu 6w

    I am painting my nights with happy lies
    And ashes of burning anxiety, as my soul cries
    I immerse those bristles in colors of hope
    With my eyes closed and zero scope

    I sketch the world I wish to see
    I carve the girl I love to be
    But my impatient eye unlocks her lids
    Only to witness the canvas unfilled

    Is hope colorless or my eyes colorblind?

    ©manisha_rameshbabu

  • manisha_rameshbabu 11w

    On her 30th birthday, Ki woke up a little late before her even realizing it, she was standing next to the old closet in her room. She carefully opened it and pulled out a yellow diary. She smiled brightly flipping through the pages as it reminded her of a decade old memories fabricated by love.

    Until Ki met Joe at a concert, the melomaniac never perspected she would love someone surplus her music. Joe was a passionate photographer. Sometimes when his love for photography surpassed hers, jealousy befriended her.

    At times they would wage war over their difference of opinions but their warmth for fairytale tied them together. Other times they would enact along with the cast as their favourite disney movies played on the screen.

    As she rolled over the pages, a photograph rolled over the ceramic floor. That picture was photographed years back in the Disney land when their fondness for fairytale made them fly to California. She dressed with a floor length blue garment fitting her waistline like Cinderella in a ball gown waiting for her prince charming, rainbows painted her heart when he knelt before her. Those words still stir her soul.

    " I will be the imperfect me
    You will be the imperfect you
    We will be the imperfect us"

    She turned the photograph to find a four line fairytale of their love story he inked for her after winning his first word war but losing the love battle. They weren't married then.

    "Photophile prince pictured perpetual promise
    Built by beauteous bridge balanced by beleif
    Proferred present to philharmonic princess
    Beauty bewitched blooming a bride "

    Her reveries halted when Joe's mom came in with a bouquet of beautiful roses. She dressed herself in his favourite ball gown and knelt before his tomb offering the bouquet, summoning her tears to find the dead promise. Those words still stir her soul.

    ©manisha_rameshbabu

    @miraquill @writersnetwork
    #wod #pod #writingcontest #creativearena #tell #contest

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    Photophile prince pictured perpetual promise
    Built by beauteous bridge balanced by beleif
    Proferred present to philharmonic princess
    Beauty bewitched blooming a bride

    ©manisha_rameshbabu

  • manisha_rameshbabu 12w

    @miraquill @writersnetwork
    #synecdoche #wod #pod

    Thank you so much WN for ��
    EC ��

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    SYNECDOCHE

    As blue eyes and pink cheeks
    Exchange rings of stardust
    A galaxy of cheerful smiles
    Shower stars of blessings

    ©manisha_rameshbabu

  • manisha_rameshbabu 12w

    TIME

    T he champion of the life's marathon
    I ntended to fleet, lighting's perfect paragon
    M ending memories every minute, icon
    E xpert in outdating carbon's aeon

    He running and ruining there
    Remains a hero still
    People call him time

    ©manisha_rameshbabu

  • manisha_rameshbabu 12w

    @miraquill @writersnetwork
    #sail #pod #wod

    Thank you so much WN for ��

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    SAIL

    My catamaran quill
    Sails over dark ocean
    Layered by skinny papyrus

    Will my ship sink
    In its own ink?

    ©manisha_rameshbabu

  • manisha_rameshbabu 12w

    A MUTE ONOMATOPOEIA

    When I see you, my tongue tintinnabulate
    And I hear a soul-shattering kaboom
    Turning everything mute including me
    I no more hear the pitter-patter of rain
    Or the rusty rustle of leaves in autumn stain

    I no more hear the clutter clatters,
    The whoosh of the zephyr
    Or the snap of the twig
    I feel my cracking knuckles
    Spotting your soft chuckles
    But I don't hear them anymore

    I never hear your voice
    You never hear my baffling noise
    Like a television on a mute mode
    Like a mime playing emotion note
    I keep vocalizing in a million silent way
    Only hoping you will understand some day

    Though my efforts broke
    And my voice choke
    My heart keeps struggling deep inside
    To break my shreiking silence

    Million words strangled deep
    Discharge bullets, Dakka Dakka
    Piercing my heart's ark
    But yes, I chose this silence
    I chose to love you muted
    Because silence has no rejection
    I could just love you
    The way my heart knows

    ©manisha_rameshbabu

    @miraquill @writersnetwork
    #onomatopoeia #wod #pod

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    A MUTE ONOMATOPOEIA

  • manisha_rameshbabu 12w

    @miraquill @writersnetwork
    #diminishing #pod #wod

    Happy friendship day sweet souls ��
    Thank you so much WN for ��

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    Your blue eyes bloom a golden spark
    Adding charm to that olden park
    Setting sail of my heart's ode ark

    ©manisha_rameshbabu

  • manisha_rameshbabu 13w

    KWANSABA TO FRONTLINE WORKERS

    R isking their own to control virus flare-up
    E nlight viewers by abiding the dark disease
    S waying away anxiety and health of self
    C uring war wounds of the rampant battle
    U ndergo trauma to treat not-so patient patient
    E xtend pillars of support they could to
    R escue their citizen from the deadly spread

  • manisha_rameshbabu 13w

    @miraquill @writersnetwork
    #wood #wod #pod

    Thank you so much WN for �� and repost��
    18th EC ����

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    Two roads diverged into the yellow woods
    Disappearance or departure?
    Two paths parted by prominence
    Profession or passion?


    Two routes ramify across dream jungle
    Refusal or regret?
    Two ways varied by wars within
    Voice out or words mute?


    With hope empty as my pocket
    And fear thick as my Jean, I sit on a stump
    Grabbing straps of my backpack tight
    Wishing to find those missing butterflies
    To help my stranded soul choose a way


    ©manisha_rameshbabu