Mirakee
All my life, I've looked at words
as though there is winter
in the only dry and wet
seasons of the Philippines.
©rekeshallys
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rekeshallys
18w
Read MoreAll my life, I've looked at words
as though there is winter in the only dry and wet
seasons of the Philippines.
I've looked at words as though
the violin and its bow met after a long time.
As though words are a parasol of red,
affirms me of protection and passion,
yet rainfalls still get me,
the sun nevertheless harms me at 14:22.
Words are the places printed on a map
I never knew existed when in a zoomed
out display.
They are like a total stranger I,
only knew the outside.
©rekeshallys
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Pic - Pinterest
#writingcontest #creativearena #words -
rekeshallys
20w
Read More
The Monster
At around fifth age, newspapers of my parents' death were sand in my eyes at midnight of the Monster's party.
I had weeks of anxiety about the near-death until I got the cipher of the newspapers.
It won't happen yet, I understood.
Childhood was merely the time I lived in the illusory plays and fights with friends and foes.
I began to pace around all-day as per the wish of the Monster.
Teenage wasn't so sweet either.
As for another command of it, my eyes became stuck to the pages of various mental illnesses which fed the Monster.
It's so alive this time!
So alive to have me laugh for the next months, chained in the bed of perpetuity under the name of particular scenes and phrases which I couldn't stop.
A simple line from a song, a mere slideshow from my story, "Why are you asking?" makes my mind snatched from rationality.
During exams, voices say I'm another person over and over, "You're a rich, spoiled brat," it says.
Or I am the character in a series.
You tell me how to stop these; how can I not laugh when the Monster controls me?
Guilt becomes the reason for my hunchback and the appearance of fake attorneys who smelled like the pungent overly-sprayed chemicals in my house.
I'm so ashamed, I scream like the drama queen with a tarnished reputation, only I am silent.
I even thought I was a literal insane person who pretends to be sane; doubts chewed me the way sharks' teeth feed on their prey.
"You're gross," the Monster repeats, and I argue and shout at it when I'm alone, "It's not true!"
© rekeshallys
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Pic - PinterestThe Monster
// caption //
© rekeshallys -
rekeshallys
20w
I choose to have faith, for once, have faith and trust, where I rely on and be calm. Nothing in this world matters; everything will end here, except we think and feel, so we seek for purposes. And so, what's necessary becomes subjective. We only live here to do what keeps us purposeful, surviving, knowing, or alive, and that becomes what matters for us.
Whatever is beyond all, beyond what we can see or perceive, we would not certainly know. No human is capable of knowing everything. No one can know what lies ahead. All the beauty and majesty of the universe. What did even spark the creation of all these? Why is there a cycle of all these creation and destruction?
Doesn't faith, whatever yours is, helps us sane and alive when we can't handle doubts and misery?
©rekeshallys -
rekeshallys
24w
Read More
It's Just Another Day
I dreamt of a woman who had crawled the Earth.
I woke up with cries,
for she walked in the Dream as she crossed the Earth.
It's just another day.
I ventured the old from the Roundhay Garden Scene in 1888
to the foreign exchange students of 1955.
The Kiss of 1896 and the recorded working rotary snowplows in 1902... just days of another.
My favorite was the trip down the market circa 1906.
Never knew of my life,
never knew I saw old through the chariots they ran.
Touches of laughter met with the pavement of the kids.
Commodities soar toward the residents of gratefulness.
The hospitality of the merchants echoed along.
It's the street of busyness and nonchalance.
Anemoia, who were they?
Why, with the glee, I feel melancholy?
It's just another day.
My sadness for the dead Earth's passers-by,
either we met or not, ties you give me!
You make present a fitness arena for the wind ahead.
And now I questioned the superiors and the Highest.
Oh, it's just another day.
© rekeshallys
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Picture - Pinterest
@writersnetwork @mirakee #podIt's Just Another Day
©rekeshallys -
rekeshallys
24w
Read More
Expectations are your size ten feet, which you fit in the size eight shoes, unaware of your feet to suffocate after an hour. It is confidence in the start and disappointment in the end.
©rekeshallys
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This was for the Creative Arena, but after pressing the submit button, only then did I know that it was only for premium members; this is one of those failed expectations ��
Pic - Pinterest
#expectations @mirakee @writersnetwork #podExpectations
are your size
ten feet, which
you fit in the
size eight shoes,
unaware of your
feet to suffocate
after an hour.
It is confidence
in the start and
disappointment
in the end.
©rekeshallys -
For when you are hated, everything else that you say and do is a crime for them.
©rekeshallys -
Doubt is the companion of Worry as it searches for Certainty.
©rekeshallys -
rekeshallys
33w
Read More
Papers
Papers I stuffed with queued missions.
Papers? You use that word for documents.
Papers that I speak of then, I weigh as creased certificates.
Papers I give myself, for, in my fantasy, I can do many.
Oh, the dream it sells, but along with it, the expectations,
So often failed.
Papers I have discussed, put inside a suitcase,
I carry all-day.
Yet the end of that all-day, I looked,
and still full of papers.
I have not finished any.
Ah, it's a 24-hour quandary.
©rekeshallys
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Yep, when I fail to do my to-do-list :p
Pic - Pinterest
@mirakee @writersnetwork #papers #podPapers
©rekeshallys -
Life is too short to give PAST the power than WISDOM.
©rekeshallys -
rekeshallys
33w
Read More
Yes, please.
Pic - Pinterest
#quotes #quoteoftheday #writersnetwork #mirakeeMay your awful memories finally turn into pure wisdom and not shackles that still have power over you.
©rekeshallys
-
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 -
_dangerous_divaa
17w
Read More// The Seven Deadly Sins//
This is an acrostic about a man who is not a sinner, but someone in search of a miracle that will make him believe in himself and humanity.
Each paragraph describes one of the seven deadly sins, and as it’s an acrostic you can spell every sin by joining the first letters of every line - PRIDE, ENVY, WRATH, GLUTTONY, LUST, SLOTH and GREED.
’cause not every sinner deserves hell. Some deserve forgiveness and hope that they can do better!
#sevendeadlysins #writersnetwork #acrostic #pod
@writersnetwork @mirakee
@mirakee Oh my god! Thank you so much for the POD. I'm overwhelmed ♥️♥️
______________________________________________________
Sinned
Powerless is what it seemed to him
Rummaging through broken remains
Invisible to the world, he yearned
Deeply, to make himself important and known
Even if it meant asserting his greatness over others
Extremely hopeless about his capabilities and
Not sure if he’ll ever become perfect like others
Void of faith, he started despising himself, so
Yeah! He couldn’t decipher what he actually lacked
Whenever he felt truly lost
Reeking of terror and loneliness
A sudden surge of destruction
Took control of his insides, and
Helplessly, he let his fears destroy his world
Greasy food, mouth watering desserts
Living with a hungry, needy heart
Uselessly trying to fill it with the delicacies
The world offered him, unaware
That eating doesn’t satiate a heart’s appetite
One that’s a result of suffering alone, and
Not realising that love isn’t found in calories
Yet it was all he could afford
Lurking amidst all that dejection
Under the covers, was a little desire
Searching for affection, a better half
That’ll accept even his rotting parts
Scared of the fall, he wouldn’t jump as
Losing was his only destiny he believed
Of course, he’d rather do nothing
Than fail and ruin everything, being
Held captive and crippled by his own fears
Gruesome as he grew, he kept piling
Ragged pieces to cure his emptiness, but
Even heaps of those were inept to fill his
Erring but innocent heart, that was just
Desperate for something to feel like a blessing!
~Anukriti
©_dangerous_divaaSinned
Read the caption
©_dangerous_divaa -
my_cup_of_poetry
17w
Read More@writersnetwork thanks a ton :")
| 17th December, 2020 | Thanks a lot @mirakee for making this POD :").
-
disisdiplim
18w
Read More��
WARNING �� ~~~~ DARK LINES AHEAD.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
° Darkness of my heart °
________________________________
In my heart is a volcano
The tears , molten magma rolling out
trying to unburden the throbbing piece of muscle
All aghast,for I have more lava
More to burn your city,your life
Am I a abomination,am I a weak man
Daring to stand and talk of making Olympus fall
Was I dark rose,they won't love and use to create dark power
Is my prowess not striving?
Why in this war I am not even fighting?
its so mine,yet I am crawling
They breached the door to my skin, where s my kin
The faith has failed to touch me hard
Am i being a meek coward?
How shall I look inward?
Where's the courage to sail has sink?
Why my mind is bearing nothing but poison
to kill none but self
Will you even read this and see within the fears lurking Inside your head
A slave to pleasure and appetite we all men fight
What is the real purpose of this organic chaos called life?
Why is I storm I feel inside me
Are you calm,not touched by melancholy as me
Can you teach me your mystery
Can you tell me,how to live in the time of me.
Diplim
@odysseus
@mirakee
@writersnetwork
@mirakee
@writersbay
@my_cup_of_poetry
#pod #cc #read #poetry #poetrycommunity #writersnetwork #writersbay #readwriteunite #mirakee
I cannot write something that I intend to, I can let my emotions make my words flow
For there you might find no rhyme in my lines
For what I compose
I can't think twice
Just as a river freed from a dam
I can only let my emotions flow"A slave to pleasure and
appetite we all men fight"
"What is the real purpose
of this organic chaos
called life?"
©disisdiplim -
fireblast_
18w
Read Moretimeless
this poem is very brave
like your mother's smile.
in which every apology
has a forgiver, and every
defeat has a survivor.
this poem is very brave
like that unnamed grief
you hid in unshed tears.
in which you could unlove
everything you've lost
and rewrite everything
that's not yours.
this poem is a tragedy;
a tomorrow you could've
lived yesterday.
@fireblast_
(Art and poetry).
-
artistano1
21w
Read More...
The dim purple and green lights
on the buildings spread the scent
of history through the fog.
I met you through them
on the city streets and squares,
forever looking for your steps.
Thank you;
I am forever trapped in this city.
How sad it is to live with memories.
In the warm room of the rented apartment,
noise came,
the window looked out on the square;
There,
where the gallows used to dance in the wind,
now coats of various colors dance,
with cold faces under masks.
Like actors on boards.
The harsh resemblance
of theater and life in that square.
And so I will begin the book,
the diary of one great love;
"My home is theatre, it's a small dirty town ..."
I'll write to you tomorrow, Gloria.
If I don't die.
As much as I tried
to escape from the theater,
it was getting bigger.
In the beginning,
it was the words of passers-by,
some inscriptions on advertisements, or music. Now the theater has swallowed an entire city,
and surrounded me on all sides,
as I solved the riddles of our encounters,
and put together the puzzles
that make this city what it is;
A scene of super-reality.
Why is every movement in this city a modern ballet?
Why are you all?
-Another annoying handwriting
with a mere list of facts.
Close your eyes, wherever you are now, Gloria.
Let's at least squint together.
I will love you tomorrow.
If I don't die.
The phone rang
just long enough to break the silence.
I called into the handset in vain for a few seconds, the call was accidental.
Are there any random calls at all?
As I listened incessantly
repeating the sound "tu - tu" in the handset,
I looked in the mirror.
(Creating a scene)
I light a cigarette.
She approaches the window
lithely and sophisticatedly
like a ballerina in a theater.
Night and neon signs
have long since covered the city
and cars have made rows
of glowing, winding lanes.
She stared at the moon,
and her bare back merged with the moonlight.
She parted her brown hair
and pulled on the panties
that had cut into her flesh.
The music started.
I took a cigarette smoke,
she inhaled and began to dance.
She bent her arms gracefully,
imitating long-lost wings,
and made movements by
drawing concentric circles in cigarette smoke.
She wanted to reach immortality and then die.
I only wanted her.
What a perfect scene, in a city of dying art.
I'll change your name tomorrow, Gloria.
If I don't die.
Curtain.
Dark.
The end.
Just still counting down
the rhythm from the handset:
"tu - tu, tu - tu, tu - tu ..."
@mirakee @writersnetwork @readwriteunite #genuine_readers #theatre #gloria.
-
moitreyee
20w
Read MoreI stare at norms and grab a pretence. The tale of the orange sky is an epitaph on my flaws. It smears a vast blanket that I spread throughout my flesh to let stains on me glide through folds in vain. I swear on every irregular poetry I have turned into paragraphs, punctuations are still my last breath. I take one before dying, out of breath, out of words.
I feel pity for the girl in me. I ain't a merciful sphere that shelters billions but I hate to see her feel incomplete whenever a story ends without a happy ending. She still hopes there will be a second part of it that will end well. I hate to see her hope so.
How much will she let her hope win with tantrums when one day the castle she builds near the shore will be washed of by the ocean ?
Will she command the ocean waves to not reach heights above her merrytory ?
How will one not let tragedies to hit their merry bones and stir them until they are chilled with a bleak winter sneeze ?
I feel pity for the girl in me. She embraces the petals of a marigold. She doesn't choose rose while admiring petals 'cause in high school she has never been considered one, as judged by mates. She doesn't pick flowers that smirk at her whenever she gazes at it.
How much will she let her inferiority win when one day her sweat will be the last to stay after self-worth escapes her way ?
How long will she let her flesh melt in cardigans thinking of people who will judge her skin if exposed during a hot summer afternoon ?
How will she snatch envious eyes and judgmental throats from a nest of reptiles who craves her bones ?
Life's a ride of ups and downs.
Often says the crowd that frowns.
For hoping the giant ocean waves
to not wash off a merry castle,
aren't mere hopes but rigid caves
where you cage your major battles.
Later you feed yourself petty reasons
for losing wars and building prisons.
©Moitreyee Bhaduri
P.S. : I invented a word , lol.
Merrytory - a territory where every story has a happy(merry) ending..
-
thewordplayer
21w
.
-
soulfulstirrings
79w
Read More#travel #mirakee #writersnetwork #odysseus
@mirakee @writersnetwork @odysseus @living_through_words @sumana_chakraborty
Image credit to the rightful owner .Wanderlust ...
Take me
To the moon and back .
For I want to see the place
Where I shall
Be a star one day .
Amongst those ,
Constellations glorious ,
And galaxies infinite ....
©soulfulstirrings -
allbymyself
22w
Read More"No", you say
except you don't
your eyes travel
up and down
never quite knowing
when to settle
and I am left
to rely on silence
as I try to learn
the story that your
mouth won't speak.
The steps you take
are heavy, your feet
dragging themselves
across the concrete
you wish you could
glide, but there is
a futility in freedom
for those who have
sewn prisons in every
corner of their skin.
"Yes", you whisper
except you don't
I see how your
fingers shake as
you reach out
to hold me; this
cold air filling
up our lungs yet
your breaths are
unsteady beneath
that smile you wear.
You name your
terrors like they
label constellations
in the blood red skies
and you count them
one at a time
because the fairy
tales don't tell us
that evil doesn't exist
they teach us that
evil can be conquered.
- Avitaj
@raika @accismus @thegreymetaphor @dopamine
Picture credit- Marc LinnemannConsent
Maybe it's you
Maybe it's me
Maybe it's just the constant rhythm of the sea
Maybe it's just that I've never been
The kind who can pass a lucky penny by
- Maybe It's You, Karen Carpenter
