Nature always admired me While my quill glide in breeze Weaving serene aroma of flowers Blooming in the midst of rainy showers.... I can go on writing like these as seasons carve themselves on my pen. Inspiring me to write more & more and not to stop writing an entire lore. This music which rings in my ears is nothing but the sound of nature. Happy World Environment Day Mirakeeans
Pic - Me And this "Rose" which bloomed in my balcony just make my heart jump in glee.
Just feeling inspired from one of the great Bengali poet Jibanananda Das. Presenting Jibanananda Das's An October Morning And then a poem based on the same theme. This was such a fun based activity. You can try this too guys. Already feeling enlightened.
একটি অক্টোবর সকালে এক অক্টোবরের সকালে, কিছু শিশির আমার মুখে পড়ে গেল। শিশিরগুলি এখানে রয়েছে সারিকা পাখির সৌজন্যে
তিন ভিজে সরিকা পাখি প্রায় একটি এমব্লিকা গাছ স্পর্শ সূর্যের উত্তাপ উপভোগ করছি এটি কি নীল বোঝাই নীল ক্ষেত? নাকি আকাশের আকাশ? এটা কি রোদ? নাকি সূর্যের মতো কিছু?
পাখি দূরে সরে যায় আমাদের বিশ্বের থেকে এটি নিজস্ব আমার জীবনে আমি অনেক সরিকা পাখি দেখেছি, তবে আমি কিছুই দেখিনি এই তিনটি মত। -Jibanananda Das
English Translation An October Morning In one October morning, some dewdrops fell on my face and hair. The dewdrops are here through Sarika bird’s courtesy.
Three drenched sarika birds almost touching an emblica tree enjoying the sun’s warmth. Is it an indigo-laden blue field? Or is it an azure sky? Is it the sun? Or something sun-like?
The bird slithers away from our world into its own. In my life, I have seen many sarika birds, but never have I seen anything like those three.
My take based on the same theme
Hymn of Summer Resting my soul on sunny morning This strawy grass gently caressing my hair I am woken up by those dewdrops Escaping the comfort of wet leaves
These singing kokila birds Hugging the bark of gulmohar tree Are they soaking in its warmth? But couldn't they sail in these bright sunrays? Is it the love they are seeking? Or something they call as nest?
Those rooftops are my only solace in this loneliness. But whenever I try to close my eyes to sleep, it seems your harmonies have not left my soul. They promise to accompany me in my life's journey. Just like how you sang your heart to those shooting stars. Who commenced their last fall from you only to reach me. Now I am left wandering in this realm of Silence. Whose walls still ring when I touch those colours in their paint. Those chandelier of stars always sing those melodies when my fingers run through them. I forget my emptiness in my poetry. I forget the Solitude clutching my life in chains of thoughts. Now I am dancing in freedom of your Song And when words escape my lips these pillars seem to swing in your symphonies. So that my soul is filled only with your music.
Deep in my thoughts Lying on pale bedsheets Staring at those rooftops Dark silence every night I meet
I still remember How I grew fonder Of that music you played And the melody that stayed
In tiny corner of my heart Everytime you strum that guitar But I could only see stars rejoicing In vast galaxy beaming up so far
Do you remember? Those stars which we counted. We always used to lost the count. We never even tried Thinking them to be infinite. It was a supposition. And whenever I asked a justification of our action. You would taunt me of having reasons for everything. Well I wonder what could be the reason of you admiring even simple thoughts in my poetry. Sometimes you won't get the intent. But you felt content by the metaphors I used for your tales. We would run across lawns. You behind me in the desire of catching me. But your hands would only be left with my words. Around those lines in your palms I would hide the rhythm and ask you to find. I always knew you will fail and therefore I hid some syllabic keys in your pockets. You would still run chasing me. Over a period of time you have started Imagining me everywhere. You never even realised I blew some delusional similes in your ear. Now after realising you are under the notion of illusions, you just sit under skyline. You open that blanket of yours that encompass every star of realm. Luring me too. You have succeeded as always. And here we are snuggling among alphabets to create a new horizon
Rashmika was left distraught after she heard what the doctor said." It is sad to say that your mom has slipped into depression."She was constantly lost in thoughts. Seeing her like this, her dad and best friend Deepika were very worried. They couldn't think of anything. Some days passed. Nothing changed but now Rashmika was burdened with her household responsibilities. Juggling office and home was becoming difficult. She started losing herself. Deepika tried to convince her to come on a double date. Deepika's bf Sahil has asked her to arrange someone so that they could enjoy some quality time. Today as usual when they were sipping coffee, Deepika asked her to come atleast once. After some convincing attempts, she finally said Yes. But just once. And that's all. On the other hand, even Shlok, Sahil's Best friend also colleague was uninterested in Double Date. But came just for Sahil's sake. They were in the frontyard of the hotel waiting for the girls to arrive. As soon as Rashmika stepped out, Shlok was awestruck for a moment. He couldn't take his eyes off. Clad in a red one piece, she smiled at him. He smiled back and was nudged by Sahil. He came back from his thoughts. At the end of the date, they exchanged their numbers. Maybe they met just for one date but they were inseparable since then. They started spending time together. Shlok visited Rashmi's home once. It was then they knew about her mother. They realised why Rashmi couldn't cone on their monsoon trip to Kerala. But Shlok instead of convincing her for the trip, stayed with her. He started frequenting her place just so that they could spend some more time. Also he started helping Rashmika in her work. Rashmika now completely smitten by Shloka couldn't help falling in love. But she was left in a dilemma. Confused if she is infatuated or in love. She talked to Shloka about this. Now they were two confused souls. And the only solution they felt was a simple test. They would not stay in contact with each other nor speak to each other. If anyone contacts the other person they will accept that they cannot stay without each other. A week passed. Rashmika was now back to square one. She thought she will be so absorbed in her responsibilities that she won't remember him. But not a day passed when she won't miss him. Unable to speak to anyone she decided to pen down her feelings.
Hello Everyone To All My Dear Readers, I Know That I Haven't Been Here For A Pretty Long Time, There Were A Few Things Which Were Disturbing Me Mentally, So I Was Having An Off Time These Days, Well I Will Try To Be Regular Here.... It's Not Being Easy These Days, Because I'm Not That Well These Days Mentally And Physically As I Used To Be, Hope All Are Doing Good In This Lockdown.... We All Need To Be Together To Fight Mentally With Ourselves, Help Each Other To Stand, Because It's A Lockdown, Stress Levels, Tensions Are Increasingly Increasing.... We Need To Unite, Back Each Other, Back Ourselves And Move On.
Thank you @writersnetwork for the kind repost ! ________________________________________________
Daylight never offers her the kalon soothing roughness of pillow fights with night or the silk that only moonlight knows. She curls her lips like romancing with her poetry with silence dancing on her bosom, sneezing and holding time. She knows that surreal romance, clicking noises of seizures and tears, of ink and words.
Like Greek philosophers, she's also believing that expression of kalon may be in writing verses after verses, words after words, beautiful yet incomplete expressing the same old thoughts again and again, with the same old heart.
Sometimes, she falls in love with trays of colors, a texture, an old faded wall, a rusted old page of a diary, a temple because they speak a language that tells her about spiral existence, tells her the omen of things to come, of kalon of pure art.
She dreams in colors that drive away the blues. She wants to swivel in the freedom of the wind, her fragrance spreads gently with a breeze. She's the lover of words. She's the museum of shifted identities, a galaxy of romanticized dreams and passion.
Kalon; for her defines the eyes that see beauty in everything, with a heart that expands with visions to write and read and explore, to live peacefully in oneness.
Kalon; for her is where daisies sing like little birds, where life doesn't stop at one or few windows: it does takes a lot of courage to realise this and much more courage to lose few things.
Kalon in dreams at night, her soul flies light Across the sky, across the ocean. What does it take to keep awake for hopes to soar, For dreams to roar?!
Just a moment of eternal courage and eyes to see the moral beauty not over the skin or below it but the one which reflects one's heart on sleeves and stars in eyes and stardust in character which leaves starry nightlight wherever it goes.
Your song so sweet to my ears, My guardian angel forever dear, I read you on faces unseen, Hear you.
When the sky is turning blue and we are centuries apart Let me kneel in front of you. Where people are writing syllables we cannot imagine, syllables we can only feel and endure.
Yet no matter what, as immortal souls and mortal beings, we tend to have ties towards other souls, pull towards people, a sense of belonging and collectiveness; and as long as that exists, the line between fictional poetry and the reality of the regular will continue to be blurred, and the boundary perpetually crossed, and every relationship, every knowing will walk as much in reality, as it dance in poetry and fiction.
Here I'm, book marking sands of good times, Scenting every metaphors with life, Inking the words to merge this journey into cosmic stillness, I'm on course like the stars, falling and sparkling and making my way through the darkness before I fall to dust.
Yours truly, A girl who has found happiness in you.
You stare at unknown shadows and observe patterns on the floor, somehow claiming to be in love with people's eyes. You make yourself comfort in shadows of the known and long to touch the new and unknown.
While portraying your character as an artist I think you weave words inside your head. You write, you live and you fly, just that it's all in your head. And soon enough when you'll get perfect gist you slowly slip your head on to the canvas or on to a paper or to somewhere which is unknown to you, to me, and to us.
You might be talking in or to stars wondering about dark secrets of night which she holds within her tenebrous folds. You're afraid that someday you'll be left to flip through pages, blazing through the silence of the night acoustic in air.
You believe that your words, your action, your thoughts will burst into a cascade of a thousand petals. You believe stories are everywhere and nowhere, inside and outside all around about. You believe for everything that occurs in life finds a place in poetic compositions or in any other form of masterpiece. You know that you were never meant to be held in some captivating words, the mere stanzas and verses, you are the whole of story. You know that it's never too early or late to meet the real you.
I dream of places I've never been to. Of wonders I've never seen before, of people I've never met, of destinations I've been dreaming since ages to reach, of views from the tall buildings of crowded streets and neverending roads. I've been dreaming of learning cosmic mysteries, of stars and moon.
I've been dreaming of creating forever memories in this little infinity, collecting and dancing over small happiness I've been dreaming of becoming a star so bright with full of light. I've been dreaming of things that resonate with my core, flawed but worthy, of endless possibilities of celebrating myself over time each day, every day.
I dream of lying between tainted pages of old novels to feel the emotions of hundreds who once touched it and found their home in it. I dream of reading unpopular fictions, some classics and lots of vintage poems. I dream of touching every art with the same purity as that artist's pureness of creating it.
I dream of making myself as the last person that should matter to myself the most and keep shining in who I am. I've been dreaming of bringing the change, reading all good books out there, being unapologetically me, tracing my fingers over all masterpieces created during times. I've been dreaming to live some memories forever. I've been dreaming of little infinities in this infinite world.
-Richa (And the list continues but here I stop)
PS: Hello Mirakeeans, you can take "I've been dreaming" as a prompt and create your writeups. Let us share our little infinities in words. One liners or to any number of lines, you can write. And don't forget to tag me !! HAPPY INKING I'll check out the submissions till Monday night.