shrey2310

Ded life, sed life

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  • shrey2310 1d

    I hope this fits. Each stanza follows the rule for haynaku

    Obsessed with winter and rain. Or life, maybe?

    Me writing for prompts is a more big challenge than the prompt itself. Phew ��

    #haynaku#wod#writersnetwork

    Criticise please

    Thankyou!

    Read More

    winter

    Water,
    it's cold
    winter has arrived

    Leaves,
    that fell
    started to rise

    warm,
    silent breath
    turns to fog

    lights
    in cities
    starts to shine

    more
    than the
    stars in skies

    mornings,
    start with
    the sleeping sun

    nights,
    ending with
    late awake moon

    my
    constant shivers
    and my nose

    welcomes
    these gelid
    winds of winter

    with
    a diary
    and my sweater


    ©shrey2310

  • shrey2310 1w

    /we-enter/
    it's not the right time, yet the winds from the December has accompanied me and took me by surprise. The gusty, cold zephyr brushing my dried lips and the withered red rose that i hold and here i sit today, at the corridor, from where the sun shines and the rays warmly touches you, kisses you actually, while the kids they play with the withered flowers, dried up leaves and they embrace the fall elegantly and why not? For that one overused statement, it says, "We fall to rise" and i guess this destination, to rise, lies in the journey and this journey is covered with a thin covering of ice over the rivulet, hot chocolates, the warm air inside your lungs that turn foggy when breathed out, dilemma of the loss, acceptance of the pain, steps towards healing and entering into winter. The branches that shed the leaves once in the autumn, don't they grow in winter? Slow yet soothing.

    Often winters are a topic of gloom, a season after fall. We fall and we lose but the period after that, we mourn, ache a little and like those small steps of an ant, we heal and that's winter where we live. You know they say, "Selfless part of writing is the most selfless one" and winter sometimes feels like a piece written with that part of life where exists a little of pain and acceptance to it and doesn't that soothes you?

    Winter feels like a cozy, warm blanket round my body, the flames of the fire pacifying my palms, shrinking of my feet from the cold zephyr that touches you, warns you and lastly, it hugs you. Winter feels like a rusty, shambled shack filled with the lies of "f-o-r-e-v-e-r-s" but its true somehow because that shack always feels like home, winter feels like this place where i write, old, gelid, c-h-a-n-g-e-d yet it still feels like home where you can have your own space, your own ideas and you bloom, that's for sure. Winter feels like a hodgepodge of nostalgia, sombre days, never ending nights and yet we waked up again to live a little more than yesterday.

    It's not yet started but the essence starts flowing in my veins as if it always existed among the trees that kept of changing every season yet the psithurism it had, i never forgot that. It stood as if a poet suffering from alexithymia, suffers to pen down his own feeling yet excels up in penning yours'. It stayed like an abyss and you travel in it, not to fall this time, but to accept..... and rise, maybe? Haha, the same overused statement as i say, "to fall so that you rise".



    ~Shrey

    #mirakee#writersnetwork

    /city of stars
    are you shining just for me/
    (from the song "City of stars" by Ryan Gosling)

    it's not the right time, yet i posted this. Heh

    Criticise please

    Thankyou

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    Euphoria and winter

    /Often winters are a topic of gloom, a season after fall. We fall and we lose but the period after that, we mourn, ache a little and like those small steps of an ant, we heal and that's winter where we live. You know they say, "Selfless part of writing is the most selfless one" and winter sometimes feels like a piece written with that part of life where exists a little of pain and acceptance to it and doesn't that soothes you?/

    ©shrey2310

  • shrey2310 2w

    /man ye saheb ji,
    jaane hai ji
    fir bhi banaye
    bahane

    naina nawabi ji
    dekhe hai sab ji
    fir bhi na samjhe
    ishaare/
    .
    .

    There's a girl who stands there alongside the wall of the school's backyard, under the orange sky, sun with its most warm rays and the clouds that seems to fade, for its her sky today and she, wanna fly till the place where the winds takes her, till the place where the sky turns pink. Maybe waiting for someone? Just like I do, from that one stall that resides in some corner where the eyes fall sometimes by chance and i do wonder always if she'd ever, by chance, reach to the world that resides at my side of the road. Abandoned yet accompanied by some hopeless promises, incomplete yet complete love and regrets with pleasures.


    /man ye saheb ji ha karta bahane
    naina nawabi ji na samajhe ishaare/
    .
    .

    There's a universe that she hides in her eyes with her every blink, each second. And every time I fall in that endless journey of love that her eyes take me to. With a withering flower that's preserved in me for her, asks me that when will it be that moment when this flower might be accepted, or crushed? And then there's a soft drizzle of ignorance that I sprinkle over it every time she ties her hair and she runs away like she does, every evening and the flower stays in me, abandoned from a heart that stutters to say what it feels and accompanied by a strange feeling of incomplete love that she leaves behind for me. And every evening i stand there for the time she comes and she goes, every possible excuses that i make to my mind are all every possible ways to love her, to choose her.


    /dheere dheere
    naino ko dheere dheere
    jiya ko dheere dheere
    bhaayo re saibo

    dheere dheere
    begaana dheere dheere
    apna sa dheere dheere
    laaage re saibo/


    /surkhiyaan hai hawaon mein
    do dilo ke milne ki
    haa arziyaan hai nazaro mein
    lamha ye tham jaane ki/
    .
    .

    for that one seraphic moment, time never stops, zephyr feels to slow down even more, sun shines a little less and every light ray that pierces the fine, small spaces that exists among the numerous leaves of the tree, falls on her and i stay like a night sky filled with stars and moon and fireflies, beautiful enough, yet not interested to be one. For the night, the sun sets and she, goes away, just like every time. Ethereally, aesthetically eternal moments, when did they even stop, right?


    /kaise huzooor ji ye lab dikhlaaay
    chuppi laga ke bhi gazab hai ye dhaay/
    .
    .

    The time fails to bow, heart loses, eyes fail to peek into hers' and i stutter and stammer and i fail, yet again, to take the steps that crosses this world of mine, to enter into the hers'. My mind that carries absolutism wins every time and my heart loses, yet it falls for her for o-n-e m-o-r-e t-i-m-e and will she ever know it? Maybe yes, maybe no.

    And that's how i take the flower withered and preserved, keeping it again betwixt the pages of my diary, for both of them to stay till her eyes fall on the same corner where i stand,
    till the time when my eyes will meet hers',
    so i keep my hand over my heart and slowly do i whisper...

    /dheere dheere
    naino ko dheere dheere
    jiya ko dheere dheere
    bhaayo re saibo

    dheere dheere
    begaana dheere dheere
    apna sa dheere dheere
    laaage re saibo/
    .
    .

    ~Shrey
    .
    .
    .


    Inspired from the song, Saibo, by Sachin-Jigar. From the movie, Shor in the City. You guys heard it? You should, actually.
    #mirakee#writersnetwork

    Cliché

    Criticise, please.

    Thankyou :")

    (no guessing for this)

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    Dear, Saibo

    /dheere dheere
    naino ko dheere dheere
    jiya ko dheere dheere
    bhaayo re saibo

    dheere dheere
    begaana dheere dheere
    apna sa dheere dheere
    laaage re saibo/

    (caption)

  • shrey2310 3w

    /stay/
    You left like you never had
    a reason to stay,

    crescent moon that shined
    more, and more than it
    usually does, defined a beginning
    and an end, of course. After all
    things ends, to start
    and to end wasn't my choice
    and to stay, wasn't yours'

    the sky that was bereft of
    the sun, settled with the night.
    the night that lacked the moon
    settled with the stars and for
    the one that broke down, to fall
    and to fall for a wish to be made,
    was me.
    I settled with the wish you made
    and you did with the pieces you broke.


    if clouds were your reason to stay
    but the skies were mine
    i see, you've faded from me
    taking away the yellows of mine

    For you were to leave anyway
    like you never had a reason
    to stay.


    ~Shrey
    #mirakee#writersnetwork

    Old style

    (25)

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    Stay

    /crescent moon that shined
    more, and more than it
    usually does, defined a beginning
    and an end, of course. After all
    things ends, to start
    and to end wasn't my choice
    and to stay, wasn't yours'/

    ©shrey2310

  • shrey2310 4w

    /if happy forever was a lie, misery always isn't true either/

    You once told me how the roses that you carried with thorns mixed with the blood running in your nerves, how your blooming days were nothing but a one step closer to the dooms that weren't even planned, but you saw it coming everyday in your morning dreams and your restless night.

    You once told me, how the stars above us are aligned perfectly but today i realise, how those alignment of stars weren't a mere moment of miracle, it was our eyes that saw them and it was us who joined them, for we knew how to be happy even if we might not destined to be, eventually.

    You once told me about the bus ride you had with the last seat you sat on, were you in your own world where your earphones were your savior? Because for me, i remember there was a lady with her wrinkled face, that you may call ugly, had the most beautiful smile yet the bad luck to serve patriarchy that rested on her weakened shoulders, for her it was the little moment when a stranger who helped her get in the bus and for me it was her smile for that one second and we both lived the moment. For her it was the girl, and for me it was her. But you weren't done with the day when your final judgment was to be announced.

    You once told me how badly you wanted to laugh and be happy, maybe like the old times but then you died everyday just because you were to die eventually or atleast you thought that way.

    You aimed for the stars to settle once again, like they did once while for me, I adjusted with the fireflies to live with it, a little less happier than i was earlier, but does that count?

    "Yes",

    You once told me.


    ~Shrey


    #mirakee#writersnetwork#once

    Quite cliché but works for me i guess.
    Criticise please.

    (35 it it was :)

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    A small part of life, happiness

    /if happy forever was a lie, misery always isn't true either/

  • shrey2310 4w

    Yay

    Anyone alive say hey!

    ): 30 :(
    #mirakee#writersnetwork

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    poems of the dark room

    Aesthetically beautiful.
    Metaphors arranged with rhymes
    similes filled with lies
    veiled with onomatopoeia
    all the aches and cries
    the care, the love
    everything personified.
    imagery of a dawn
    that was actually a dusk,
    turning every wilted rose
    to a sweet smelling musk.
    anaphora of thoughts
    and allusions of confusion
    running like an enjambment.
    for what i say is like an oxymoron
    and what I want to say is more
    like a free verse, that won't have
    an end neither will it stop soon
    but what i write today is a poem
    filled with everything
    from metaphors to oxymorons

    and yet a little of irony joins in
    for my thoughts, they didn't stop
    but my poem, it ends.


    ~Shrey

  • shrey2310 7w

    #paradox , maybe?

    soul refers to a cell here, functional and structural unit of life. Idk how true it is but i just saw it in a picture how a star dies forming supernova and how a cell is born from the pre-existing one. Also, idk if this suits for paradox but who cares, the challenge is over anyway

    Criticise please :)

    (25, messed)

    #mirakee#writersnetwork

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    Universe

    A death of a star, forlorn and far
    away from us, yet glowing they are
    Large as a giant, heavy as a death
    born within the dust
    in dust will they die
    when they divide into two
    yet they'll shine like
    a child's innocent eyes

    A birth of a soul, so close, so tender
    maybe in us, maybe from us
    small as an atom, light as a feather
    born from the existing ones
    when they divide into two
    but themselves they'll kill
    or they die with some cause


    for the biggest of the star
    that dies too quick
    and the smallest of a cell
    that may live too long
    in a same way they do so
    /maybe death of a star, is birth of a soul/


    ~Shrey

  • shrey2310 8w

    Highly inspired from the recent post by @/raika_

    (wrong :/, 30)

    #mirakee#writersnetwork#recipe

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    I made a poem

    from the cupboard of time
    take a moment to realise
    the rain that falls
    and the petrichor that rise.
    Take a pinch of it
    and sniff it for a while
    sprinkle it over,
    your sweet, tender rhymes

    Mix them well
    mould them fine,
    hold it together
    and pour it into
    the pot

    the cage behind your eyes
    where exist beings
    of logic and science,
    take them out
    one by one
    kill some logics
    spare some science
    and use them on your poem
    to add a little of spice

    now you light the flame
    and put the pot over it
    heat it till the essence
    engulfs the room,
    filter out the rhymes
    and collect the remnant
    words, spaces and lines
    that are left behind

    frame them over a paper
    and put a fine stroke of pen
    keep them till they dry
    and throw them
    when they do so
    for it'll reach and hit
    the reader it should

    till then you wait
    for your poem to be savoured
    till then you watch
    the rain that falls,
    smell the petrichor
    that rise

    ~Shrey

  • shrey2310 8w

    Where would you go if the time stops?

    #mirakee#writersnetwork

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    the sky which held grief
    of the sun that drifts away
    every night

    the sun that hides behind
    the veil of the black clouds,
    wrath of the sky
    and it rains

    the rain that reminds me of
    my last lover who had her first
    on me

    everything and everyone,
    that may last no long
    reminds me of
    momentary moments

    pleasure enough to live it
    pain enough to leave it


    ~Shrey

  • shrey2310 10w

    Like people say, "selfish part of writing is the most selfless one"
    I guess, just like that imperfections help us to relate with each other.


    (30, wrong guessing)

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    An imperfect poem

    I wish to say sorry
    right after i fight.
    Going first won't
    make me coward
    and waiting a bit
    won't make me
    supreme either

    I wish to say a
    little too less
    because saying much
    won't make them hear me
    and listening a bit more
    won't make me deaf

    I wish to be bad
    I wish to good,
    doing things that i want,
    following things
    that i should.

    Call me a rain-child
    and I'd speak the
    language of sun,
    I'd cheer you up
    like the lost spring
    and I'd fill you up
    with that nostalgic autumn
    and when I find
    that the best of me
    gets the worst of all
    I'd be the summer
    that burns you to ash
    I'd be the winter
    that turns you to ice

    I talk with my past
    and i wave a goodbye
    to my future, for all of me
    resides here, right now

    And for the last of my wish
    I'd like to be black
    so that i absorb yours'
    and if you can't do so
    I'd be white enough
    to snatch your colors of life

    So i wish to be things
    that i know, no one can gift me
    for the reasons are
    obvious and why not?
    Because i wish to be
    who I am,
    too good to be bad
    too bad to be good,
    I know that imperfections
    are the dark secrets while
    perfections resembles the white
    So i wish to be imperfect
    that relates me with you
    and you with me




    ~Shrey