• my_cup_of_poetry 27w

    Imagine a tiny world where sunset lasts longer than few minutes, where children of all ages gather around a fire to sing, smile and write about water lilies, where nobody is chasing time and where everything is a story– shades of sky, wilted lilacs, pink men, young women and absurd poetry.

    This is the world where I entered more than three years ago and my journey so far has been no less than magical. I call my Hogwarts, Mirakee and today Mirakee has turned FIVE. Period ❤

    This collaboration is a tribute to this beautiful place and I am highly grateful to all the contributors for agreeing to be a part of this. Join us in the celebration, will you?

    @writersnetwork @mirakee @alankrita3 we love you :")

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    A Writer's Paradise



    Pale was that summer,
    Indulgent the Indian rains,
    When baby steps were taken,
    And we, our first pen names.

    Some found their poems,
    The rest their dainty prose,
    For a majority it was about solace,
    Mirakee - a home away from home.


    The myriad verses which bloom here
    Are offered in reverence
    To the souls that arrive and depart
    Yet etch with fingers an art
    That catches the sight of eyes
    In remembrance of the glories
    Left behind


    Temples and graveyards,
    Hold prayers same;
    Of love and loss,
    hope and despair.

    But I found a shrine,
    Draped in verses,
    Known by some,
    A Writer's Paradise.


    I wrote a few words
    and let them afloat,
    they drifted with the waves,
    — an unmoored boat,
    on dark and tempestuous nights,
    they saved a stranded emotion,
    but, what good is any boat
    without a boundless ocean?


    A year long ride
    wonderful writers,
    precious people for
    life I would have
    never known if
    not for this


    I've been normal since two days
    if I count yesterday
    and I think I can hold on
    five more
    a week or so
    days off
    pale blue dark red
    traced off
    I try to be like them
    on paper
    I'm sure it's time I meet
    someone like me
    it's time I write
    my face off.


    I've heard myself, I've heard myself
    Feeling this way-  Like semi-estranged -
    Learning to musically 
    Sway          Sway            Sway 
    In my semi-splendid rebounds
    In a paradise of the losts and 
    Founds .


    I am a wanderer from far afield,
    who was lost and had lost
    all that once belonged;
    looking for warmth
    on empty roads
    until I found an old firefly
    hiding under a leaf
    and it led me here,
    it led me Home
    to my adobe
    to what I call,


    I slipped down a hill
    holding a jar of clouds:
    grey and pale;
    many a twilights I passed
    trembling by your side:
    shut, silent and empty;
    O men and women,
    I do not write;
    I just fold my joys,
    my pieces, my pain
    and I sail them in this


    We started as strangers
    But that's not where it ends
    For this large group of writers
    Became family and friends
    Some were quiet and shy
    And some were outspoken
    Many penned about love
    And of hearts that were broken
    We developed our skills
    Through both writing and reading
    And we learned that as writers
    Our soul's always bleeding
    Always rising together
    Throughout laughter and tears
    Ever onward we go
    A very happy five years!