Mirakee
Roots
I grew inside the fences of Van Gogh
and one day he freed me to taste the Stars.
mirakee
Welcome to Mirakee’s official page! Improve your writing with our daily challenges. Use #pod to nominate your posts for reposts.
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-
mirakee
20h
Read MoreOne of the first few questions you come across after talking to a stranger is " Where are you from ? " Isn't it? And though we have always been mentioning our hometown as an answer to the above question, if you analyse deeply you will realise that this question asks for so much more than just a place. It seeks to know your roots and the address of your soul.
--Today, write a creative answer to the above question in the form of a poem or quote--
Tag with #roots and share.
#wod -
mirakee
1d
Read More
A refrain in literature refers to a phrase, line or group of lines repeated at intervals throughout a poem, most commonly at the end of each stanza. The practice of using refrains is very old. There exists two broad forms of refrain:
First, where a line is repeated throughout the poem and second, where words are repeated.
--Today, write a poem using refrain in it.--
Tag with #refrain and share.
#wodRefrain
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
- Robert Frost -
mirakee
2d
Read More
On January 7th 2018, The New York Times had announced that hundreds of women in Hollywood launched a movement titled ' Time's Up ' to counter harassment of women in the entertainment industry and elsewhere. The movement was initiated to give a voice to everyone and make everyone believe that they will be heard.
--Today, write a poem or prose titled ' Time's Up ' against harassment.--
Tag with #timesup and share.
#wodTime's Up
Raise awareness with your words! -
mirakee
3d
Read More
Congratulations! ��❤️
Winners of Conversation building challenge are @aditya_paul and @blindrooster ! ��
Thanks to everyone who participated and helped make this contest a success!♥️.
-
mirakee
3d
Read More
Cooking is a form of art and so is writing a recipe. Recipe needs to be concise, to the point and easy to understand. Writing a recipe is like presenting the preparation of a dish right from scratch so one must include the ingredients used along with the step by step method of preparation.
--Today, write a delicious recipe for something abstract.--
You can write a recipe for happiness, sadness, love, beauty or anything else that comes to your mind.
Tag with #recipe and share.
#wodRecipe
What ingredients do you use to cook poetry ? -
mirakee
4d
Read More
The tradition of exchanging gifts started way back but is still a popular custom across the world. Gifts are transferred according to occasions and although it's a voluntary practice sometimes it also becomes a part of expected social behaviour.
--Today, write a poem or story about a special gift.--
Tag with #gifts and share.
#wodGift exchange
Do you like the tradition of exchanging gifts ? -
mirakee
5d
Read More
Writer's block is a condition, primarily associated with writing, in which an author is unable to produce new work or experiences a creative slowdown.
( source: wikipedia )
As writers who mostly express through written words , it must be painful to not be able to write. Today's challenge revolves around helping such writers.
--Write a heartwarming letter to someone in writer's block--
Tag with #letter and share.
#wodWriter's block
Have you ever experienced writer's block ? -
mirakee
1w
Read More
Hi fam! ��
How are you all doing? ❤️
We asked you a few months back about all the problems you have been facing on this platform. We have been working on resolving some of them such as keeping the spammers out, fixing the word battles, improving the explore section etc. We'd like to know if you're still facing any issues with the app. Are you receiving all the notifications? Are you enjoying the experience?
Please drop your comments below! Also, tell us if you liked the new design!
We also have a surprise for you! Read the entire post to be dazzled! ❤️
Share your feedback about this new feature in the comments. To access the new feature, update your app and visit the design screen. ��
We're coming up with new features and a better experience for you guys! So stay tuned.
Lots and lots of love,
From Team ��
#mirakeefamily #miraquill #updateMiraquill
Please note : Miraquill Videos is currently available in BETA for Sapphire members.Introducing Miraquill Videos!
You can now convert your posts to videos and share them on your social media channels!
Write awesome content and we will auto-design your post, overlay it on a beautiful video background, narrate your content eloquently, and add some soothing music that will tug at your heartstrings.
Update your app and give it a try. Bring your words to life! -
mirakee
1w
Read More
“The two hardest things to say in life are hello for the first time and goodbye for the last.”
- Moira Rogers
Goodbyes often act as wake up calls. All of a sudden memories rush in and we get filled with angst. It's also said that no matter how much you are prepared, the final goodbyes always hurt.
--Today, write a poem or prose about goodbyes--
Tag with #goodbye and share.
#wodGoodbyes
What's that last thing you said goodbye to? -
mirakee
1w
Read More
Gear up Mirakeeans!
~
Get creative, go to writing contests in the Creative Arena and participate in the ongoing "Conversation building" challenge to win a trophy..
-
_anaan__
19h
Read More#roots #wod
Thank you so much for the kind repost @mirakee (my first POD) @writersnetwork
I'm grateful for this one❤Roots
I live within the brave metaphors
of the poetry that lift me up whenever
I am down
I dwell in the desert where I
get an inch closer to both the
coldness of the moon and the
hotness of the sun
I intentionally reside in the
neighborhood of the land
of colourful tulips to keep the
dead parts of my heart alive
I sojourn in the city of
your thoughts where
we meet at the bridge of your
heart
I'm one of those billion people
who inhabit the world of imagination
to fly yonder and fix everything
that drives them away from their euphoric love.
©_anaan__ -
bruisingpen
1d
Read MorePod, honoured :)
Saglyanche khup khup aabhar❤️
What good is a day to me,
when smitten chapters basking
in a sprawling evening within me
are covered with multilayered dust,
and the blank spaces are filled
with grime rather than affection
of some indigenous hands and
a yellow bookmark at crust.
What good is a day to me
when my edges breathe through
oxygenated masks of cob webs,
and the epilogue on my backyard
is succumbed to wrap into thick rust,
where rivalries, stories and vulnerability
of women are choked in silence
losing its forbearance
as a shooting star being fallen
within the doors of outburst.
What good is a day to me
when wisdom within my lining sky
isn't showered through meteors
of poetic verses and abstracts
since the day an author gave me birth,
closet being the only companion
from exchanging opinions to
teaching values and deciphering
meanings out of self worth.
What good is a day to me
when my existence of being a book
was an uncertainty forever
of blooming into the hearts of reader,
but I won't shred tears of melancholy
for I believe in the only certainty
of my verses dwelling and
resonating within every teenager.
What good is a day to me
when an insentient object
waits for someone to read it
and appraise its unheard tales,
where hopes are futile,
demeanour is diminishing,
black ink is smouldering,
yet confidence and belief
inside me wants to run on
tracks of eternity
till next dawn felicitate good days,
till next dawn felicitate good days.
~bruisingpen
Prompt: POV of a book which hasn't been read by anyone for a long time and has been kept in a closet almost forever.
#pbegc #refrain
I'm good at ruining ends.
-
galvanizedthoughts
2d
Read MoreKalbaisakhi
When I was born
A month before
my prescribed arrival date
The date trees rejoiced
as the winds that rolled
off the blistered tongue
Of the Sun
enveloped me into a
familiar womb's embrace
My mother, declares
me as Kalbaisakhi
the unpredictable
pre monsoon storms
I was as old as the
lines on my single finger
as the aunties exclaimed
Your mother had too
many dates and Gulab-jamuns
while you were in the belly
that is why your skin is dark
I ran away, my tears
watered the dormant seeds
Of the earth
And earth lamented
it's loss
by thunderstorms and
rainless clouds
The tin roofs that fell
the coconut and date trees
bent over
in respect and subservience
I plucked two rainless clouds
and strung them with my hair
around my arms
as armlets
Then on my generous vacation
courtesy to summer
On the simmering heat
of the broth
Of the skies
As me and my friends sat
huddled in a windowless room
preparing a skit on Ma Durga
They exclaim your hands
are too dark for Durga
Your hands are perfect
to represent Kali
I run away
tears in my eyes
This time
I put on my anklets
And motion my nimble fingers
Into Vayu mudra
suchi and mrugashirsha
mudras
As each time my feet
taps the floor
a thunder howls
rhyming with my anklets
I pluck the dates from
the trees and
put them across the flowers
as they multiply into
a million eyes imitating
those of lord Shiva
as my skirt whirls
brushing across the earth
the earth lends me it's dust
the dust now rises
with the wailing winds
from the womb of a
now dissected earth
As I set free
the rainless clouds
From my armlets
Each time my legs cross
A humourless lightning
Flashes across the skies
the rivers are my teachers
they teach me how to rage
As torrents of downpour
greets my now blistered skin
they seek to drown
the skies in vengeance
However as the date trees
plead for mercy
I lose my tempest
I see the destruction
I have caused
Annihilation on my fingertips
So I kiss the leather skins
Of the mangoes
And send my greetings
to the now ecstatic
farmers and
Kiss the soil
the heat now on my blistered
tongue
with the promise
of a return
each summer when
someone calls me as
Kalbaisakhi
© Ayushi Saha 14 April 2021 10.42 am
#pod
This is based on a personal day to day experience of colourism
All the events mentioned above are real and have happened with me. My skin has always been something I have been criticized for. This poem is me, reclaiming my worth, my territory.
@anvaya thank you for being there and pushing me to write this poem
@hayat_ @my_cup_of_poetry hi!
Artwork by Manal Mirza
My other works in the series #gtnapowrimo21 #gtwn
Mudras are finger postures used in classical dancing such as Odissi. Odissi is the dance form that I learnt.
I had uninstalled this app and now that I opened it, I am greeted with such a pleasant surprise.
THANK YOU TO EVERY SINGLE SOUL WHO READ THIS POEM AND APPRECIATED IT
I AM OVERWHELMED RIGHT NOW
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Thank you so very much for making my day @mirakee and @writersnetwork on 14th April 2021.
-
julie__
3d
Read MorePerpetuating hatred--
It's happening every day,
While many who contribute
Would be the first to say,
"Don't call me a bigot.
I'm broadminded as can be.
It's just that I don't believe
In a mixed society."
So deeply has this poison spread.
The roots have long been buried.
Still, in a small child's fertile mind
Some seeds will still be carried.
If they have heard somebody
Speak out with great contempt
About a colour or a race,
Then hatred will ferment.
It later will flourish
If no one interferes.
Racial slurs and epitaphs
Will frequently appear.
There is an old Indian quotation,
One that clearly speaks.
"Don't judge a person 'til you have walked
In his moccasins many weeks."
There is no person living today
Who wouldn't somewhere be an outcast.
If everyone would just remember that,
We might have peace at last.
- julie
#recipe #wod
#mirakee @mirakee @writersnetwork
#podA Dish Of Racism
-
__adyasha__
4d
Read MoreA Secret Romance.
Mountains and meadows
Dew drops on the leaves
that followed.
Misty air and lovely chirps
ricocheted.
Ballads that sounded from
the magnificent manors
with
Subtle giggles and
joyous laughter
that came along.
Fairy lights and fireflies
flickered around.
Stars twinkled
with the
colossal evening star.
The lake in the woods
spread the tunes that
the swans sang,
Of love and gaiety.
Deep inside the woods,
moon flowers bloomed.
So beautiful,
yet so vulnerable
Like the lone Luna.
A crying kiss hid
the gorgeous smile.
Somewhere afar,
a heart of gold was
melting,
Casting away into
A secret romance.
- AdyashaA Secret Romance.
-
severed_strings
5d
Read More@severed_strings
Wouldn't it be better,
If all could be downhill-ed to the latter,
And I could sleep--
between house loans and melting bones,
Through the sound of silence which echoes
Among the words on the notices I couldn't read,
Because I was too busy
Dreaming all along,
Among the letters i do not want to read,
Because I was hallucinating all along.
The moon sets repeatedly
fading with every eight heartbeats,
with cold glowing red through the crevices
As my eyes play hide and seek with second chances.
What am I supposed to do,
when the barn is brimming with sheeps,
night in and out, sleeplessness
has constantly made me weep;
a clock that breaks past midnight,
and the promises that I could never keep.
I strech and groan,
of the insanity which has begun to grow within.
Through the fingertips
towards the heart that has turned to stone
To the tales I weave and then creep
along the rusty nails which keep
the only photograph of her hanging.
To admire the old love, milking it,
the only thing which doesn't let me sink.
------------------------------------------------------------------
@thefoxisdead
watching myself in the mirror,
it's only a broken man;
but, will you be able to see
your own reflection
when the light's out,
when it's dark outside,
when you've these thoughts
of suicide.
you will never hear me talking
about waking up in the morning,
a dead man never wakes up,
he tells no tales —
he takes nothing, but only
excedrin, excedrin,
could you please help me
to get to the brink
of the heaven's gate;
that has been keeping
a good night's sleep,
from me.
what's the occasion,
so late at night ?
why are they crowding the street
outside my porch ?
what's with the celebration
and the loud music ?
they've managed to ruin
my ruined sleep.
shouting kids, dancing families,
and, the elderlies look like
they found a new life;
whilst, altogether
they've gotten me closer
to the knife,
and the glock-19;
every laughter is almost
as if someone's hammering down
the last nails to my coffin —
excedrin, excedrin,
could you please show me the way
back to my nyquil.
is it me, who's losing his religion
or, is it the religion
that's losing me;
because, my faith is as low
as the serotonin
in my bloodstream.
paranoid, that one of these nights,
insomnia might make me
claw out my eyeballs;
just to head back into
my mother's lap —
and sleep,
like there's no tomorrow;
but until then, there's much
to face — days of sorrow,
turning into nights
filled with morose.
(see you
in my dreams, my friend —
goodnight).
©the_fox
_____
It was lovelyyy working with you sweet soul :>
Edit: thank you so much you guyss. We're both honoured by all the love and wishes. (XD and super happy)
Also, he's such an intelligent writer, isn't he?
11.04.2021~deus ex machina (a collaboration)
-
thehemantkashyap
1w
Read MoreWell, good evening, y'all.
Dramaturgy is a concept in sociology which means that a person perceives their life as a role they have to play on a stage. The term was first coined by Erving Goffman.
The concept was also put in a beautiful song by EVE, a Japanese artist. You can find the song on YouTube.
#podDramaturgy
I look at my
hands and I
see the ground
beneath - cracked skin
like a scorched
field, with channels long dried.
I don't know where
I stand - the spotlight is
blinding me to
the surroundings. I
look at the
faces in front of
me - oh, I am
in an act. Better
straighten my tie, tie my
laces, brush my hair,
but most importantly,
smile.
Smile. Yes, good.
Smile like the coast,
battered, like the
wave that dies on it,
ad nauseum,
I smile.
I stand like a
soldier, ready to be
cannon fodder, chin up,
chest out,
gun at the ready,
painted red.
I happen to be in the
eye of a perfect storm; I
happen to be at
the center of
all the destruction - debris
flying around, cutting a
bloody path.
I watch on - rather
helplessly.
But I must smile
and so I do.
The applause rings
and it rings
hollow; deafeningly so.
All I wish for is a
grain of silence.
©thehemantkashyap -
the_speccy_outsider
1w
Read MorePeace and tranquility seem like a dream to me. So ironical though, as dreams are the reason for my misery. These dreams, they don't allow me to shut my eyes as they fear their existence would never become a reality. They fear they'll be another forgotten chapter. Hence, they pound on my imagination to carve their place.
I'm tired now! Tired of dreaming. Tired of telling myself that the silver lining is just around the corner. Tired of reminding myself that the gazebo of darkness will lead me to my home, to my sunshine. Tired of pacifying myself that this too shall pass. Tired of consoling myself, for this is just a phase.
My heart wants to take control but my head won't leave the throne. I guess I gave too much power to it as now it possesses more than me. Forcing me to relinquish control over my very own body.
As a kid, dreams fascinated me. For how our imagination could construct a world of itself. Where everything goes according to our desire. Nothing to worry about at all. And in this procedure of faking a world, I lost control on the real one.
I have no idea what I want anymore. Do I want to put a smile and believe everything will be fine, or do I want to stay betwixt the cobwebs of the dark attic where I'm a prisoner currently? For I've lost track of everything. Discombobulated to the core.
©the_speccy_outsider
#rhetoric
Picture Credits: To the rightful owner.
P.S. @mirakee Thank you so very much for the kind repost! Second POD! ����
@writersnetwork Thank you so very much for the tenth repost! ��Discombobulated
-
a_gentilischi
1w
Read More@mirakee thank you so much for the POD! It's a real honour and a delight. And thank you for everyone who took a moment read this slice of history from my home town.
Hey, guys. I know it's been a while. Sorry, I couldn't read your magical pieces.
University has started, so I won't be able to be here as frequently as I used to, but I'll definitely come around as soon as I get some free time. ��
Thank you for asking @heartsease @fairytales_ @asmita_chakraborty
I was really touched by the gesture. ������
And a few words about the Fort.
This is one of the most stunning vistas in Galle, Sri Lanka, which is incidentally, my home town.
________________________________________________
THE OLD FORT
The old Fort stands
By the edge of the coast
As the waves smash against
Her moss covered stone walls
Those proud greying walls
Worn smooth from centuries
The ruined battlements still remain
Nestled between the fallen towers
Where the canons used to stand
The cannons...
Oh, the cannons!
How the fort misses them
Her own majestic children
Now all tucked away
In the dusty alcoves
Of the unvisited museum
The clock tower is silent
It's bells haven't rung in years
The broken clock face
Where no one's eyes rest
What she wouldn't give
To hear the bells again...
To feel the resounding heartbeat
Of the footfalls of marching soldiers
Upon stone pavements of her skin
Of course she's heard that war is wrong
And maybe there's truth in that
After all, she still hasn't forgotten
The combined scent of blood and sweat
That soaked through her earth
A long, long time ago
But war has been her life
The only time she's felt alive
Her songs mingled with battle cries
Her soul flying along the crimson standards
Her own halcyon days
Written in the ink of battle
Now nothing remains
Of those glory days
Instead, there are crying children
And flustered mothers buying ice creams
The regal soldiers at attention
Replaced with flower filled pavements
And quaint little tea shops
The place where the squadron's flag stood
Rippling in the air with victory
Is now the backdrop
For the "#��������������'@��������" selfies
And still she stands.
2021.04.08
Written rights : ©a_gentilischi
#memories #places #pod
#mirakee #writersnetwork #writersbay
@mirakee @writersnetwork
#time #history #beginning #ending #town
#home #fort #battle #ramparts #ruins
#memories #halycon #wnreagent.
©a_gentilischi
-
surefire
1w
Read More//Cut the cord and pull some strings
make yourself some angel wings
and if those angel wings don't fly
someone's going to paint you another sky//
-Paper doll by John Mayer
A battalion named after us,
a land for brothers and sisters
but then there were
guns that backfired
and in the stampede born
of confusion and trepidation
our innocence died a painful death.
In the process of our everyday
negotiations with the world
we often switch between
being generous and being selfish
and with the passage of time
hate burgeons between people
distancing them above and beyond.
When the urge for vengeance
reaches a fever pitch
that's when bridges break
that's when things fall apart
that's when your wounds
smile roguishly before
rubbing the leftover salt in
the wounds of many others.
But the world is not a chess floor
on a personal level it's your own
perspective that determines
what is right and what is wrong
the world is way too complicated
for you to not always contradict
your own ideas and decisions
for you to be able to think
at all times in the terms of
absolute black-and-white.
©surefire
@mirakee thank you so much
I am thankful to all my friends, well-wishers and my readers ❤
#sfwn.
