The tints of blues paint the canvases of my mind. The pallets of my brain splash colours that I love over the skies that live within them, the daisies are draped with the blues that I love, the sea a vast mirror for the heaven above, the stars closer than ever, and the shores bathing under the rain, the tears of those weeping clouds. The colours, ringing with the blooming whistles, of my heart, they dance and smile and paint my mind with the tints and shades of bliss. ________________ #colour@writersnetwork@mirakee @darkerthanblack@odysseus
The paints were still laden on the creaking stool, when I came back from his funeral. The canvas on the easel was splashed with red paint that reflected pain. It reflected the point in time when his hand slipped, life sucked out of it. And yet the poor man had held the stars in his hand and stuck them to the sky, right until the sun rose and never set again. _________________________________________________
Metaphors~ Stars: paint brush Sky: canvas
The sun rising and it's never setting again signifies that the canvas of his night sky that he had painted on had gone, the scene had changed, and it stayed the same forever, because he died. That is, the sunrise depicts his death, and says that death is not all dark, that he died but still didn't. He'll always remain, like the sun.
36 all out. The world howling at the inefficiency of Indian cricket. Then a man comes and puts 100 runs on the board. The man who was but once draped with doubts. A plethora of injuries. The experience, gone. Half of the team onto treatment. The baton of will in the hands of young souls. A man with a dislocated thumb putting his country in a good position. And yet again ready with pads on and injecting himself so that he can still play for the tricolour. A man of courage. A team whose fortunes were already decided, a team who was declared to loose. But a man came, a spark in him, could not make a 100, but the 97 was all his team needed. Two men, one with a torn hamstring, another with a tweaking back and the threatening thud of a ball on his ribs. They sailed. Their ships were but built of unknown bravery that the storm could never destroy. Strong. Fearless. Proud. They couldn't win, but who needs a win in front of the valour they showed? A team of passion. A team who never believed that the sun is gone forever. A team in a position of loss. But again two men. Souls of the Indian soil. Playing their first game. The love. The truth of what's at stake. They fight again. And again. And what they do is just enough of a win. A man with tears as he eyed the satin flag of his nation, a memory of his father, the sound of jana gana mana whistling in the breeze. A warrior. A saviour. A person with the ball raised in his hands. And a beautiful hug. A young beaming man. Amongst so many. Tried. Tried. Always helped. Kept helping. Kept playing. His home on the ground, the king in blue. A 91. Again no 100. Bliss comes from pain sometimes, doesn't it? Then the wall. The wall stands upright in the middle of the green land. He gets hurt. But he plays long. He helps the team. Does a 56. And then he departs. But we always have the one with a 97. Cometh the need, there comes the man. The man of steel. He stands upright on the foreign land, fighting for his motherland. He thrives on his power. The might. The strength. The beauty. He wins. The match. And billions of hearts.
Through the journey. Through the pain. The injuries. The bruises. Broken. But never shattered. Alive with strength unknown. The win. The passion. The depth. The love. The unity. The sport. The tricolour, swaying with pride, in the vastness of the sky. A series to remember for all living memory. A story to love.
The F I R E in his mind bellowed with the flames of his longing. He just wanted. And wanted. He hadn't wanted much, though. Just her all soothing lap upon which lay his burdened head. It felt heavy. So heavy. He missed her. He craved for the stroke of her feather palm. Her hug. It was all enough.
But his father had plans. His father had a shard of I C E. The shard was thick, strong, sharp. Until it was painted with blood. His father's shard killed his mother.
It was still there, the shard. In a prime corner, a memoir. He remembered how it had happened. How his mother had weeped. Until she couldn't. Her eyes were last open, draped with strength right upto the end, till they were alive. Then they lay open without seeing.
He took the memoir. Went to his father. The blood on the memoir darkened. Once. And then again one more time. He stabbed his father twice. And then he stabbed the memory of his mother. In his heart. Right into his heart.
At the end, they were all gone. Fire and ice, make water.
ACCOUTREMENT by Carolyn Glackin Let your love be my one and only adornment And that will be enough Let me be draped exclusively In the ornate finery that is you Let your kisses cover me from head to toe Like a sparkling gossamer gown Shining and resplendent And as soft as eiderdown Let the fiery heat of your passion Enrobe me with its sultry glow As that would be the finest garment This skin could ever know Decked out to the nines Oh how your ardour makes me shine Silky satin, so sublime It all withstands the test of time Never cold and never bare Despite the crispness of the air Your loving arms are always there They give me comfort, like a prayer Thus if I could choose one accoutrement I wouldn't mind the hue Style and fabric wouldn't matter So long as it was you So dress me in your love, my darling And I'll dress you in mine We'll revel in love's wardrobe Our sacred union, so divine. Copyright Carolyn Glackin 4/6/2021
*Artwork credited to one of my favorite artists: Ines Honfi.
P.S. Thank you for your continued patience while I remain on a brief break from reading and reposting.
This piece was inspired by the nausea and vertigo I've been dealing with for about a week now. As there's not much that I can do about it, I did what we writers do when we're unable to do anything else. I wrote about it. Thank you for reading!
P.S. I'll be mostly inactive until this situation resolves. See you soon.
VERTIGO by Carolyn Glackin Boy, you got me reeling Like I'm spinning in space Swaying back and forth E'er since I first saw your face Caught up in this motion I don't know what to do Going nowhere, yet I'm moving Ever closer to you Don't know how it happened Guess you caught me off guard Feelin' like a lunatic Life is hittin' me hard Babe you got me rockin' Like the waves in the ocean But it's time to cool it down I need to quell this commotion You shook the ground before me When you stepped on this Earth You showed me your true power So I'd know what you're worth No need to get it twisted Don't pull the rug from beneath me You gotta know by now I prize the love you bequeath me Never mind the past Let's move together in time Come find me in the beat Of every word that I rhyme You can be my rock 'Cause you're so steady and strong And I can keep us grounded We won't waver for long You got me straight up syncopatin' In this unchecked syncope Gettin' vertical with vertigo Between you and me Come on, let's shake it loose We'll be together, yet free. Copyright Carolyn Glackin 4/9/2021
Although song/book/movie/etc. titles can't be copyrighted, I'd still like to mention that I make no claim on the title "Vertigo," as it's been used multiple times by multiple people. Aside from that, and the painting, all else is of my own creation.
//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.
Here's a new , fun , super exciting initiative brought to you by my_cup_of_poetry and me.
It's the Mirakee Club
Have you ever felt like being in a literary club or society but just because there were none around you or because you were socially awkward, you couldn't join any. To cut this roadblock we are bringing for you a virtual club in the discord app. The link for joining is in our bios. In case you find any difficulty there reach out to either of us here or on Instagram.
The purpose of starting this was my love for discussions and her love for exploring ideas and sharing perspectives, but it is going to offer you more than you can imagine.
It's a forum where you can talk to all the participants altogether, participate in discussions, suggest songs, share memes ( in specified channels ) and the best part, it has audio channels where you can hear live discussions and participate in them too ( something that we are super excited about )
We already have our first guest confirmed.
So what are you waiting for ? Get there! Quick. Don't miss out on all the fun and lessons. Happy clubbing ;)
Sometimes I feel like humans aaj bhi cave men jaise hai.. Sabhyata (yaani ki civilization) ka to namo nishan mit jaata hai jab you see them arguing or fighting in public. Take an example of simple road rage. You might have come across one in your daily life. Just go out on a random sunny day at 8 am in the morning and I'm sure koi na koi zarur mil jayega saying,
"Abe andha hai kya...***** "
(Some censored words which are not good for my audience) The stage is set, the performers have practiced all their life for this day. They were just looking for this opportunity. This stud, massive, hunky guy came out from a Tata Nano and took out his base Bat and said, "Kuchh kah rahe the aap janab" (See etiquettes.. must be from convent school) Now the other person has already seen hospital bed in his imagination and he's too late to take back his words as the adrenaline has already been pumped into his skinny body. Just going with the flow he punched as hard as he could. . . . . . . His tiny hands just massaged the massive guy's cheeks. The massive guy gave him a death stare that changed the hospital bed into death bed. He has already closed his eyes and read Hanuman Chalisa 4 times in his mind. (There's an unwritten rule during a road rage - the rest of the traffic has to do cheerleading.) They're like, "Big show Big show Big show" He could hear the silent cheers and hoots for him. So, he picked the skinny guy up in the air, perfect position for a choke slam and bam slammed him on his car. Rey Mysterio has already given up. Big show picked him up and threw him on the footpath. (To know how the fight actually looked like go to the link in the bio.. and to know how the skinny guy looked like after fight, skip to 6:30)
When such incidents happen there's always some idiot who would take out his phone and starts recording a video. Such a moron he is. I am different see. He is filming I'm just narrating. Farak ye hai ki wo Harry potter Movie ka fan hai aur main Harry Potter Novel ka.
Magar dekho mera funda clear hai. I am a guy who loves his life. Meri to caller tune bhi "Love you Zindagi hai". Upar se ghar ka iklauta ladka. Apun ko apni jaan pyari hai boss. And aisa nhi hai maine koshish nhi ki. I did the most difficult task which every other guy was doing - IMAGINATION. I imagined myself going in between the wrestle-mania and saying to both the guys who are already taller than me, "Bhaiya ladna achhi baat nhi hoti.." And just before I could complete my sentence, I envisioned myself sticking like a chewing gum under the massive guy's shoes.
People love watching fights (especially in Delhi) No matter these are the people who also love watching Bigg Boss. But unlike Bigg Boss, here participants are not getting paid for fighting. Haan kharcha zarur ho raha hai for sure. So whenever I go out, I make sure I've tallied my list of essentials during a road rage. Popcorn check ✅ Phone check ✅ Diapers check ✅ (Just in case things get a bit rough)
I can't jump in the middle of the fight, Can't move as the traffic is stuck and every other guy would get an excuse to reach late in the office, Can't go back otherwise there would be two road rages happening simultaneously and the previous participants be like, "You stole my thunder" So, I do what I can do best . . . "Big show Big show Big show"