Do we even have hearts anymore? •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• It read handle with care, This was something very rare. Filled with what they called, Emotions and feelings. In this museum we were, Observing the beauty of the rare. Every piece of art, Was placed in a closed box. Of gold and silver, And hidden like a treasure. They called these masterpieces, The human heart. They told us it was, Capable of miracles. It was the storage of cures to all problems, And the storage of feelings so incredible. It stored people and memories, And places and the nature. It stored love and respect, And hatred and jealousy. One of my favourite art pieces, Was the broken one. The tissues were weak and thin, And blood poured out of them. They looked so fragile and hopeless, As they cut through the heart. It shattered thoroughly, Into minute pieces. All of its vessels breaking, And only blood seen. Why was such distressing art, My favourite, you ask? Because it showed me what it feels like, To be broken and yet beautiful. Because this broken heart, Was still a piece of art. We don’t have a heart anymore, So we look at these masterpieces. All we’ve got now is, This massive brain. That's soon going to be, Handled with care too. -p.s.
The deep voice of yours,
Takes me into a new universe,
Where every word of your song,
Rains down onto the cracks of my melody.
The rhythmic beating of my heart intensifies,
With the clashing of waves against,
The walls that stand so tall,
In between you and me.
The sand slowly pulls me in,
But the soothing voice of yours hits,
The deepest parts of my ears,
And the weakest parts of my pain.
This wall that stands between us,
Can so easily be vanished,
With the unbelievable magic,
That your voice holds.
Even when you try,
To hide your black hole,
Your plastered rectangular smile,
Hopes to cover your imperfect soul.
But what if I could say,
That this black hole in you,
Is like a tiny drop of water,
For a thirsty canna.
The black hole is like,
The one that attracts,
All darkness of your soul,
And all pain stacked.
Then the constellations,
Deep within you glow,
As every word you speak,
Fills my world with rainbows.
Stars don't shine without,
The residence of nightfall,
And your smile won't make me smile,
Unless I find happiness deep in your eyeball.
When this happens I will,
Find a way through this wall,
Into the enchanting magic shop,
Where you and I meet once and for all.
Canna- A plant that requires a lot of water #taehyung#bts#v#voice#music#poem #deep
Even today, when the moon hides behind these clouds, I stroll on my way to the terrace. So beautiful indeed. Everyday, the only thing that changes, are the colours of this endless sky. When the sun can't give me strength anymore, the moon stays. But no matter where I go, this emptiness still resides. With a deep sigh, I wish memories faded too. And with the changing of the moon's phases, I wish the people in my life changed too. -p.s. ______________________________ I saw a lonely old man, sitting outside in his balcony and reading the newspaper. I saw the same man at night, sitting alone on his terrace and looking up at the moon. These thoughts went through my mind after that, and here I present them to you! These may be totally true or totally false and absolutely imaginative :) #love#nature#life
If you ever wonder, How your existence really matters, Ask yourself a simple question, Of why you're such a blunder. Ask yourself why God would've, Chosen to carve you next, When he could've easily, Carved another perplex? It's not what you don't have, And what you could've been instead, It's always about how you help yourself change, And help the colours spread. It's never about your outward he carved, Neither about the inner, It's all about this game of life, And how you become a winner. ___________________________________________ I'n terrible at consistency. I know. But I hate being forced to write. Unless and until it comes from within, don't expect a good piece from me! Feels like I'm weird but that is just what I am! Thank you to all of you who have supported me constantly! Let's appreciate the kindest people here like @i_am_ghina ❤
I wish this moment would last forever. This one where our eyes met. And as a rain drop drips by, I wish you could tell me there’s still too much time. How much I would ask. You’d reply with forever, even if a moment just passed. Nevertheless I’d smile, knowing you’d stay forever. Little had I known, life isn’t a fairytale. And just like any other flower, people died as well. Now that you’ve left this place, into a better one I suppose, has the forever ended? Because even if you’re not here anymore, I still stare blankly at the sky, knowing exactly where you lie. "Look at the shooting star", you’d say, "and make a wish for someone else". But now that you’re not here, let me tell you what I wished for. I wished for you to live a beautiful life forever, but I think god loves you more. Now that you’ve gone to him, can I wish for some more? Can I wish to get you back? Can I wish to get to you? Or can I wish, to be known, about what lasts forever? But now that a character in my story has disappeared, I’d still love to believe, that at least this book lasts forever, as new characters will appear within. This chapter has probably ended, but I hope for a better one, because that’s how life works, even if it’s an useless one. And then, the everyday sound of my phone rings, as the tears on my cheek dry, thank god it was all a dream, but what if this was not a lie? -p.s. #life#forever#mirakee@mirakee@mirakeeworld
"Have good luck for 7 years☘️ Smile to activate", read a comment. "Is it really that easy? To have good luck just by flashing a smile? It must've been", she thought to herself. Why would so many people give that comment a like anyway? Through all these months of hardwork Rose put in creating content for people to enjoy on this platform, she had never read such a comment. A simple but yet such a different one. Maybe the user didn't mean to convey any message. But for her, a smile, really brought good luck. A comment made her smile for the first time. Smile naturally and from within. It was then, that she realised, where happiness truly lied. It lied in smiling. Smiling for so long, that even your dead body would have a smile plastered upon it. »»——⍟——««»»——⍟——««»»——⍟——«« haha, this is so weird and random and creepy :) #smile#mirakee@mirakee@writersnetwork@mirakeeworld
I am in the mood to dissolve in the sky. - Virginia Wolf
And that's how we ruin the moments worth living, trying to capture them in poetries. We crave for things beyond the sky saying there's no limit but then why do we chain ourselves to the past? Maybe it's cause the comfort in lying on the parched ground is better than the uncertainity of flying amidst the burning clouds.
Sometimes we have to let go of the anchor that's deep buried in our hearts, piercing our skin. Letting go sounds so breezy but the act of doing it is harsh and heavy and so most of the times we just sit and do nothing. In the end it's in our hands whether to get rid of the hurting or stay still till all our senses go numb.
There's a bird that chirps loudly on the tree outside my window almost at the same time everyday and though I've never seen her, I've tried but the large mango tree hides the little creature behind dense green bushes that are so calming to the eyes; the soft and sweet melody always brings a smile to my face. She reminds me that I too have wings and that I can choose where my home could be, that I can someday be carefree. And so I try to live, a little everyday.
Today the ether is a pastel shade of grey hope which promises a winsome dawn and so I sing lullabies of amber with the serene winds to pacify the charring stars.
It was only when the phone ran out of battery, that I realised I hadn't slept all night. And I knew that I won't be able to for next few weeks. But I wish I had brought a power bank with me as there was no way I could find a charging slot here at the railway station.
I looked up at the idle trains, trying to find the best distraction. Then settled on a walk to the tea stall. As I relaxed to the taste of my favourite drink, my eyes wandered to a notebook placed besides me. More specifically, a diary. I checked for the owner of the property, but when found none, subconsciously picked it up. I don't why I did that, but I loved reading through all the beautiful poems engraved in it. And what hooked me up were not the fascinating words but the buried fire of emotions within them.
"Excuse me!". A voice brought me back to this world of reality. I looked up. A beautiful young lady, who stood a few inches taller than me, hinted me of her posession to the dairy by the quizzical gaze of her mesmerising eyes. I immediately apologised after realising the blunder I have done, and returned her the diary. She stood silent. Although I found everything quite embarrassing, but she failed to give a reaction. After a few minutes of awkwardness, I decided to break the wall of silence.
"I am sorry but I have to say, you write wonderfully". The lady stared directly in my eyes, as if searching for the existence of truth in them. And perhaps after finding it, she looked away, as if she had found a treasure she had give up on.
"What made you think so?" she finally uttered. I decided to carry up the conversation as even I wanted to distract myself from all the haunting memories of what had happened just a week ago.
"Everything. The selection of the words, the rhythm, the themes. But most of all, the emotions behind them".
She didn't look up. And from the portion where her hair failed to veil her face, a sweet smile peeped. "Thank you so much" is all she managed to say.
We stood there for a long time, but no one uttered a word. The silence was interrupted when my train announced it's arrival. I took my luggage, and as a sweet gesture, turned back to wave at her. But instead of waving back, she said "Can I have your number?". And I know I should have hesitated, but I often don't do things that I should do.
The 24 hour train journey to my hometown was much more painful than what we have imagined. Maybe because two of us had planned for it and only one was able to make through it.
As I looked out of the window, everything reminded me of him. The trees reminded me of the way he used to climb it up and play all day long. The wind reminded me of the way he used to peep through the car window. The couples reminded of how happy he used to be of the fact that he has a single parent. The sunset reminded me of how he cried when I scolded him for being late to home. The rising sun reminded me of how he never wanted to go to school. Even that day, he was insisting on staying at home. I wish I hadn't denied him. Or I wish there were no road bridges, nor any accidents. I wish no one ever loses their only child....
I left my city because it haunts me. Every place of it reminds of my son and then his death. My parents suggested me to move to my hometown, the place where I grew up. And for some reason, I submitted to them.
As soon as I switched on my mobile after reaching home, a message popped up. An unknown number has sent a long paragraph that evoked several emotions in me. It read: "Thank you so much. Thanks. Not for complimenting on my writing style. But rather for saving my life. I lost my husband last month. I didn't know what to do. I was on the station not to board any train but to board off the train of my life. When you complimented my poems, I was reminded of how he used to praise my skills. He used to say 'never give up, no matter what. Face all the obstacles'. Funny how I had forgotten that. Thanks for reminding me again. You saved my life. I will forever be grateful to you"
What makes Wednesdays even more boring are the two English classes we are bound to attend. Seeing the old bald man giving his best with his half opened eyes for 90 minutes, is not an easy task. But warrior is what we have always been. And as the bell announced the war, we slipped into our imaginary battle armors, prepared, with our books in front of us.
"Open Page no. 94" he said in his heavy, monotonous voice. We already gave up.
"In this lesson, we will be discussing about the all the childhood memories of our narrator. Most of these are of the time when she was 8 years old". The sentence sounded more like a punishment. I mean.....why are we discussing about someone else's memories? Where is the fun in that? What even is the point?
The chapter turned out to be even more deceptive than the title. All the girl could remember is the way she used to freely dance in the fields while having the taste of her favourite lollipop. Her memories revolved around how she never wanted to wake up early for school and how she used to play with her plastic toys for the whole day. Too suger-coated, right? Whose childhood can even be so sweet? Definitely not mine. All I remember is fear, insecurity, loneliness and helplessness. And before I could have dived into the pool of memories, a voice called me out.
"We would like to hear about your memories, Sehjal"
I hesitated initially, not knowing where to start from. But then all I did was recalled everything bit by bit and my mouth subconsciously did rest of the work.
I remember I was friends with every senior my father taught tution to. And one such senior included our neighbour's daughter Kashish. She was the only one who used to play with me. The rest were study bots. She was loved by my parents so much that my parents had declared her to be their first daughter and their priority child, with me coming next. And I was happy, for the fact that my only friend's sister is loved so much by my parents was truly an honour. It was a beautiful February evening, when a life ruining storm took birth. I went in for the third time to call her for the cricket match. But she was still busy studying "tense". So I decided to wait and take her with me at the end of the assignment. I had to wait half an hour before achieving the goal. But this half an hour with the tense made me fall in love with it. I remember insisiting my dad on teaching me the same and though he resisted, he had to eventually submit to my tears.
Maybe if I had been an average student, things would have turned out differently. But being the genius of my age, I excelled the topic within a week. But she, even though 5 years older than me, performed poorly. I have no idea what she felt and what she thought, but what she did proved to be a life changing event for me.
I was in my room alone. My parents were in the kitchen discussing politics. They might have been cooking as well. I don't remember that. All I remember is that I was alone in my room when she entered it. She locked the door and started talking to me, very politely. She said many things, which I don't remember. But I remember bits of it. "Your parents love me more than you" "You are a disgrace" "Your parents pretend to love you because they don't wanna hurt you" "Don't tell your parents that I said all this. Because ultimately they will confront me and I will deny" "They trust me more so you will be termed a liar and will loose the little affection they have for you"
Having stormed the words on me, she went away but the consequences prevailed. Had this happened only once, I might have fotgotten. But this continued for months. I became scared of her. She had control on everything. I wanted to reach out to my parents, but they loved her more. They themselves had said this. An unknown fear resided in me. I couldn't walk alone. I looked hundred times behind while walking with someone else. I stopped turning lights off at night. Started hating people who smiled, just like her. Lost interest in everything. Stopped eating properly. It was only when I fainted, that my parents got to know.