renukadeshpande_

A wanderer of the universe in the pursuit of her destiny.

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  • renukadeshpande_ 26w

    The fall

    Settling the morning dew,
    The sun rises,
    Not just in the sky,
    But on the golden ground,

    It's mesmerising to see,
    How even in death of bygone,
    There is so much of beauty,

    For with a fresh breath,
    The wind moves the fallen,
    Promising a new beginning,
    A new destiny.


    - renuka .d

  • renukadeshpande_ 28w

    I stand against the winds,
    The winds of mayhem,
    And unending cacophony,
    As i slither through the war,
    Running away from my enemy,

    How long will it be,
    Before I am hit,
    With betrayal and guns?
    Will I get another chance?
    To see tomorrows sun?

    Utopian it is to even think,
    That my story will have a happy ending,
    As a place where truth is on pyre,
    It won't take long for me to perish,
    For I am just a mere human,
    Near it's ending,

    Now Black sea calls me home,
    As I stare back at my brick house,
    Ridden with bombs and bullets,
    I see my own land becoming hell,

    They say wars are over,
    Then what is it that I face?
    Is it not war?
    Or is our blood not red enough,
    To be called victims of the evil spread?

    I know that this shall fall deaf,
    As on your beautiful picture of modern world,
    I am just a blot,
    Which is better off dead,

    It is just about time,
    When the evil shall outrun me,
    And my body shall fall cold,
    After which, no one will remember me,
    Or the harsh truth that I told,
    I know you'll whitewash it,
    You'll twist my tale as you hold,

    But like the phoenix, one day,
    The pyres of us all innocent victims,
    Will resurrect and unearth,
    Humanity from the dead.

    - renuka .d

    #wod #start @miraquill @writersnetwork @odysseus_2 @lady_midnight

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    //Wars we face//

    ©renukadeshpande_

  • renukadeshpande_ 33w

    //I remember when//

    I still remember,
    How you left,
    For the dried tears are still here,
    From the night I wept,

    It hurt to see you go,
    Leaving everything we've sown,
    And just like the winds blow,
    You left before I even know,

    I don't know what I feel now,
    Should I complain,
    That why didn't you stay?
    Or should I complain,
    That why did you even came?

    At this point it's really hard to tell,
    As today,
    I have become a living contradiction,
    Where my heart,
    Is so much warm and so cold.

    - r .d

    ____________________________________

    #end

    @miraquill @writersnetwork @kosachaya @odysseus_2 @epione

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    ©renukadeshpande_

  • renukadeshpande_ 40w

    As long as,
    I bleed blood as ink,
    And breathe words into life;
    From the depths of my soul,
    In my verses and my words,
    Truth shall prevail, forever.

    - ©renukadeshpande_

  • renukadeshpande_ 40w

    //The wanderer of words//

    I can travel on paper,
    Just like I walk the mountains,
    I get to live in the infinite world,
    That we all call books and wonders,

    Sometimes I find myself caught,
    With the adventurer at the sea,
    While sometimes I just cannot let go,
    The muse I met,
    On a romantic Sunday evening,

    Everyday I keep crossing across ages,
    Meeting the best people,
    We call characters on pages,

    As for me,
    This is no less than immortality,
    Where I can keep living through stories,
    Which are never ending,

    And I know somewhere,
    That you too seek the same,
    How you get lost in these fictional world's,
    You too wish to get away with them,

    And today you will,
    As I'll arrive to you,
    In some book you held,
    And will pull you into these pages,
    Where you can keep running,
    Across the seas, the mountains,
    The wheat fields all the same,

    And then,
    Between these pages,
    You'll find what it is like to be immortal,
    What it is like to be infinite.

    - ©renukadeshpande_

  • renukadeshpande_ 46w

    //The home you left//

    I am abandoned building with few birds visiting me after sunset. Sometimes kids enter through the front door to search for a lost cricket ball and other times there is just eeire silence that surrounds me. Many a times I feel disappointed, that how much the kids find me scary. But when I look at myself, I realise that I am not the same one I used to be.

    Gone are the chandeliers and the smooth silky curtains that once decorated me. Doors don't open anymore and neither do the keys fit right in, if I look around there are only ruins. The same ruins which once were carried the best of memories. From the first child to the funerals, I've seen everything. Everything changed, the neighbours the society the people, everything. But, don't worry I am not here to regret or fret or cry over anything. I just wanted to tell you that I see you, when you after all these years come back for memories. I understand that it wasn't just me who lost when you all left from here, I know that in all those rooms there is still part of you. Yes, you. I am aware that you're not the same anymore, you've grown into many things. And that is exactly why I want to talk to you.

    When you left, you were burdened with expectations. And I know that you're still carrying them, and it is probably one of the reason why you didn't come back all these years. I know left for good and you gave your best in the world, and for me it doesn't matter what it make you or what you achieved or what you didn't. People ask these, I don't. For I've seen too much of the human kind to not understand how it affects. And that's why I want you to know that, I don't care what you've become; for I know you since the day you were born, I know who you are. Coming back to what you left was never going to be easy. And neither would I lure you to stay longer, as I know you still have a life out there. Years have passed and decades have gone since the last time we met, and I can see it in your eyes that how like me, you too felt the pain. And between non stop laughter and unending tears, we both grew up. For the world we both are changed, but I know like me you too see me the same.

    I am aware that I only have a few years left. But before going i want you to come back here for once. I know you don't want to and you refrain, but trust me child, there are more memories here for you than there is pain. For no matter how many years have passed or how much you've changed, i still love you like I did the day you left.

    If you ever need me, just come back to me; and you'll be home again.

    - renuka .d
    ___________________________________________

    @miraquill @writersnetwork @kosachaya @love_whispererr @fairytales_
    #firstperson #wod #pod # home

    We all leave places, we once called home. Sometimes we come back after days sometimes we just don't. A lot changes and lot goes away. But like memories, these homes, they stay.

    To all the ones who left homes in thier lives, I short attempt to pen those feelings again; just this time as a home we left.

    Thanks for reading and stay blessed!

    Godspeed ✨

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    ©renukadeshpande_

  • renukadeshpande_ 47w

    //Strangers out there//

    What are we,
    If not strangers?
    All of everywhere,
    Nothing but passengers?

    We say we live away,
    Or that our roads differ,
    But don't we all know,
    That we are heading the same?
    We have same thing to offer,

    Sometimes years back,
    Sometimes decades ahead,
    We live on the same ground,
    That our ancestors shared,

    Than what is it that differs us?
    You me and all of us?
    Is it the cast, or the creed?
    Is it the color or the breed?
    For all I know it's only red,
    That we all bleed,

    So today,
    Someone is besides me,
    Someone miles away from me,
    But are we really strangers,
    That we say to be?

    For what I shared today,
    Wasn't just a piece of poetry,
    It was piece of my heart,
    Which I know yours is too,
    Similar to me,

    So maybe,
    We are strangers,
    In terms of identity,
    Maybe we are strangers,
    In terms of times infinity,

    But we are not strangers,
    To the universe,
    That created thee,
    For we share each other's stories,
    Much more than we know truly,

    For we are all connected,
    With our destinies,
    Woven with each other entirely,

    So hey stranger,
    My fellow passenger,
    Let's express ourselves,
    As finite beings,
    With infinite stories.

    - renuka .d

    ________________________________________

    A poem to all the beautiful beings out there. I hope this poem finds you and brings you peace. Wherever you are in the corner of the world, let's know that we are not alone. We are all together.

    Wishing love and best of health to all my fellow writers and readers of @miraquill. May we all share and read the best of each other's stories!

    Godspeed✨

    .
    .
    #story #wod #pod #miraquill

    @miraquill @writersnetwork @love_whispererr @iamjass @ericwk

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    ©renukadeshpande_

  • renukadeshpande_ 47w

    //Belongings//

    The rose petals in my journal,
    Have dried into shade of brown,
    And your photographs in my drawers,
    Haven't tasted air for years now,
    They are more like forgoten,
    Than they are memories,

    As I try to bury them deeper down,
    Itt takes only a moment of pain,
    To make it resurface,
    And have me drown,

    Letting go of you was always hard,
    But when did you become me?
    When did you become,
    Part of my heart?

    I know you must be wondering,
    How a relationship lost years back,
    Is something I am still mourning,
    Well, it ended years back,
    But the memories and the smells,
    They're still haunting,

    But now,
    I don't want anyone to pity me,
    Or try to take away the pain,
    That resides inside of me,

    I just want to mourn,
    The death of our love,
    While feeling of mayhem and agony,
    I just want to accept that,
    We are now nothing more,
    But an incomplete destiny,

    For I know,
    That when you love a little too much,
    You can't just let go of something,
    As now,
    You have to kill every part of yourself,
    That carry his belongings.

    - renuka .d

    ____________________________________________

    #choose #pod #wod

    @writersnetwork @miraquill @love_whispererr @odysseus_2

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    ©renukadeshpande_

  • renukadeshpande_ 47w

    //Pieces//

    I borrowed a handful of blue sky from the last lover and abandoned his lies on the road back home. It wasn't ever easy to love and nor was I good at letting go. So what happens to souls like me?

    Do they ever end up with a happily ever after or stay caught in the shackles of lost love from which they can't break free.

    Mostly it's hard to tell, as no one waits when it ends.The petals of roses fall off too soon, even before people like me realise that there is dark side even to the moon.

    So I am afraid as to how my story might end.For I am a girl full of mosaics of broken pieces, the pieces that might never fit. And might just remain as shards that still hurt deep.

    That is why I might just carry all the pieces I want to, as for people like me these pieces are as close to as a loved one we can ever get to.

    So don't feel sad when your hear my story, or when you find me scattered across pages. Be proud that I had the courage to love them as a whole, even when they left me in pieces.

    - renuka .d



    #prose
    #wod #love #prosepoetry

    @miraquill @writersnetwork @love_whispererr @odysseus_2 @krishnega

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    ©renukadeshpande_

  • renukadeshpande_ 48w

    //Lost//

    So, what was it?
    What broke you they asked,
    I stared at them for a moment,
    As I knew I couldn't tell them,
    For it was the pain that I had to mask,

    As saying or not,
    It didn't make any difference,
    For the war was already over,
    I had already lost,

    I know it's hard for them to believe,
    Or to trust it at all,
    That a cheerful artist like me,
    Can be taken down to rust,
    And can be this lost,

    For they still remember the crimson,
    And the cheerful red,
    But now what is left on my pallette,
    Are just the black and the greys,

    So why did you stop, they asked,
    Pressing my trembling lips hard,
    I looked at them unable to say,
    For what they asked,
    Wasn't just about art,
    It was about me, my destruction,
    And I didn't knew where to start,

    How do I say,
    That I don't wake up nowadays,
    How the light from the window,
    Makes me afraid,
    How the nights that I loved,
    Are now nothing more than darkness,
    How no matter how much water I add,
    I always end up with a dry palette,

    Yes everything is just the same,
    The canvas is still blank,
    And I still have plenty of paints,
    But as soon I try to create beauty,
    I end up drawing a blob of pain,

    My hands shiver,
    As I hold the colours,
    Ending with strokes that are mayhem,
    So I just stopped,
    Stopped painting again,
    As now I couldn't paint with colours,
    I now painted with pain,

    So,
    Why did you stop?
    Why did you lose art?
    They asked me again,
    For I felt my throat clench,
    As gulping my pain I stared at them,

    A tear trickled down my face,
    As I answered them in a whisper,
    "That no, it wasn't just the art,
    It was myself that I had lost."

    - r .d


    ©renukadeshpande_