Miraquill
I knew how to love, perhaps I did lack the flair for sharing & receiving warmth
But you my honey pie, led my love to transcend & empathize through all lifeforms
sinister_sage
If in my right mind, I may write fine
Grid View
List View
Reposts
-
sinister_sage
56w
Read MoreYou entered my life without any permission
Yet here I am, counting blessings every passing season
Few friends had warned of all the unanticipated love I'd receive
Never did I imagine, you'd teach me selfless love, a motherly instinct I believe
We may teach you tricks and actions of sit, stay, up, down, wave & fetch
But the life lessons you imparted are so fundamental, the simplicity is unmatched.
Be it the joy of greeting your loved ones or even strangers & acquaintances
You are never partial, the happy tail wags knows no human set boundaries
To wait for your human, and dance with joy when they return home
Your sloppy kisses on the face can make a heart melt out of stone
The way you learn so quick when offered a piece of cheese
I realise through small delights like these, what gratefulness is
How you try so hard to get toys at height and never easily give up
Social butterfly you'd be, the way you interact with other pups
I knew how to love, perhaps I did lack the flair for sharing & receiving warmth
But you my honey pie, led my love to transcend & empathize through all lifeforms
#dog #petlove #doglove -
A Reminder
I agree, the entire world is in the midst of chaos & unbecoming,
That the times are tough & the government's callousness is worth condemning
Few words could never sum up the suffering
Of folks of deceased, struck with grief, rage, dread & helplessness
Nor would some words do justice
To the benevolence of warriors of frontline health, logistics, transport & cleanliness.
But these words are for the likes of you & me
who mask the faces, but may fail to mask our anxious, feared emotions,
It's okay, talk it out, stop feeding your thoughts with headless notions
I agree it feels like life has sent us on a stormy voyage,
But I also believe, mankind would return bruised, yet with enhanced courage.
As the saying goes, where there's life, there's hope,
Joy, empathy & faith are indispensable, hold on tight to that rope.
And once this situation ceases to exist
Let this poem be a reminder,
To hold onto your loved ones a little tighter.
- Rishika
©sinister_sage -
Devouring Authority
.
Most men can withstand adversity with grace
but if you want to test a man's character,
give him power. -
sinister_sage
100w
Read More
The pair of black eyes begin the day
Not to the piercing blues of 6" tech
But to the soothing hues of dawn break
They gaze through the breezy haze
Of flying flocks of larks, who start early
Chirping, making perfect arcs
Between the valleys of far-off hills
Whose peaks are veiled under cottony fluffs
To which her heartbeat fluently speaks
Cuz they shape in shape of her tiny dreams
Bringing little daily joys when they are filled
With hues of sharp whites, which
Unlike portraits, do not shy away,
They pose, splendidly for her 3rd eye view
Teesri aankh, she calls it fondly
Capturing brightest stars & planets
And appreciating their presence
She sometimes gazes hard at the yellow ball
with her tinted glasses on
Not realising the intensity
with which it gazes back
But that doesn't stop her,
Nothin could,
except the Windows on her laptop
Which holds her mind, fastens belt tight
She catches glimpses of now precious freedom,
Free floating wings, flying through the purest blue
contrasting against the bricks red hued
Aah, there she finds peace
For she is the Tottochan of real world
Spotting rainbows, hearts & stars
A perfect recipe to the Unicorn that her life is
As the dusk approaches, sharp rays
breach through the clouds
like love drips out her heart
The chroma adds to the drama
That although her favourite time of the day
slips through & creeps in the kohl night,
It's in those phases of the white pearl in the calm sky that her warm soul resides in
And so she yearns for her space & Time,
For the crater-filled gleaming stone
That only comes to her window only for few nights
Like Krishna visits Meera to address her longing
& during those times, her bliss knows no bounds
For she feels all the phases - full, amavas, crescent, wolf or supermoon
Like they have been her soul's own dramatic phases
Visibile only through the
WINDOW TO HER SOULWindow to her soul
-
sinister_sage
107w
Read More
I wrote this long back & posted it earlier too. Today, it stands apt when I heard about Sushant Singh Rajput's demise. It ain't just right, some actors go through physical pain and yet don't lose their will to live while some go through mental pain & take their own lives.
Let's not succumb to those fleeting moments that lead to such dire consequencesBut now the chaos has got her addicted to the pain, the stress, the drama..
'Ain't gotta pause', 'keep up with the world', suppress your trauma..
A white flag lays on her conscience's doors, can't battle nor accept her greys..
Chaos ain't no ladder, depression is a pit; a hand in need, it's not just a phase..
A demurral to let out the exasperation, her patience wears thin..
Battling through the morass, she succumbs to the demon within.. -
Dreams?
What amuses me
tonight
is how people tell you
to go live your dreams.
To achieve them,
make goals.
Yet never really realising,
it's all being fed to your mind.
Right from your birth
or even before it.
All those stories
we've heard
or were passed on to us
by generations,
is hardly our own mind talking
but somebody else's
who fed his concepts to us
Tweaked through ages.
A big cave, to a grand mansion
A humble bullock cart
To a sleek limousine
We dream through our mind
That feeds on thoughts,
thoughts which were
a part of someone else's story
So all media
asking me
to live my dream,
I've got mine figured out.
I'd erase all my memory,
live in Arctic
& let my own thoughts
build my dreams.
Meanwhile
you can go live
& muddle with else's dreams. -
Aatmakatha
Bachpan me nibandh likhne ki baari aati
Toh aksar mai ek gulabi ki Kali ban jati
Jab kisi ne pucha tumhari kya hai kahani
Mai muskura ke yaad karti apni manmani
Kaise geeli dharti maa ki god me pali badi
Kabhi pucha nahi ki ye kya hai meri unse kadi
Jis maali ne mujhe bade pyar se pala posa
Thi mai unki aankhon mein kosa
Khush thi zindagi se, kuch gulabiyon ki bani dost
Top of the world feeling aane lagi sochkar ye duniya is my host
Ab Zindagi mili hai toh bina maksad bhi kya jeena
Iccha thi maa ki, haar ki bhagidar banu, jud jau to ishwar ka seena
Jaha se pyar mila, unhen dhoka kaise dijiye
Toh khile hum aise, ki maali humko haar wale ko bech diye
Baawre ho gaye soch ke ki haar me hi jeet hai
Par bhaiyya Mandir me jake samjhe ki jivan ki alag reet hai.
Ek kshan bhi gale lage nahi aur moorat se alag kiya pandit ne
Kya ye thi meri kahani? Bitane the pal ranjish me
Sochne lagi ki kya hoti burai agar kisine ye keh diya hota
Ki Tumhe kya paana hai is zindagi se, iska hisab kitab hi nahi hota
Toh mai har ek baar suraj ki roshni zyada utsah se leti
Maa ke thande aanchal me roz sir rakh kar soti
Dridh tehni aur patton se yadi seekhti uttarjeeivita
Toh shayad aaj hoti unn panno k beech jispar likhi hoti kavita
Bas chalta toh maali ke hathon ko kaanto se gehra ghav deti
Kash mai apne keemti pal poori tarah jee leti. -
sinister_sage
138w
चाँदनी रात
बड़ी देर के बाद आई है
ना खुले आँख
अगर ख़्वाब है तो ख़्वाब सही
ये मुलाकात
बड़ी देर के बाद आई है
- Saifuddin Saif -
sinister_sage
143w
Read More
Wo bole Qayamat ki raat
Mai bolu bin badal barsaat
Wo bole You cannot live in Rome and fight with the Pope.
Mai bolu when in Rome, do as Romans do
Wo bole aasman se gira khajur me atka
Mai bolu aage kuaan peeche khai
Wo bole a drop in the ocean
Mai bolu ocean within the drop
Fir wo bole ocean & drop both tend to infinity
Mai fir kya bolu...
��
Baat toh wohi hai na
Fir toh koi baat nahi.
-
sinister_sage
143w
Read More
They say you are a tinsel speck, your contribution matters nothing to the vastness that the Universe is..
Do you even know who you are?
Where have you come from?
Who existed before you were born?
What bigger picture are you a part of?
Would any action of yours make a difference to the bigger picture which in turn, you think is appropriate or disproportionate according to your perspective?
If your actions are miniscule, a teeny tiny speck in the fathomless ocean of the Universe, would it matter if you put in your entire energy and yet make no sense?
Or if you do not move at all and let the world run its course?
Do you think you can answer all of these to full satisfaction of your conscience?
What if the answers you thought made sense are not even remotely correct and not based on a bias that you were brought up with?
Don't you think these thoughts can put your life on hold?
What if you could not connect the dots on the map?
It has already been confirmed that people could fall into a sense of despair and meaninglessness so profound, it might drive them to suicide.
There's an answer to this, my friend
It is the gift of our evolution, the conscious mind. It has the power of imagination & memories which in time were narrated as stories.
Stories have great power because they are trusted. They feel true because they are based on the best knowledge passed down by ancestors over many generations. They have been checked and rechecked for accuracy, plausibility, and coherence using the rich knowledge of people, of stars, of landscapes, of plants and animals.
And that's what past is, a story we tell ourselves.
How compelling is History or herstory? Does it move you? Does it fuel your purpose?
Maybe. Or not..
-
Uni Verse
I was never a speck of dust
I was the figment of a Universe
That never existed
Except in my poems:
My words no longer
Know their way out,
Spiralling my skeletons
To slanted serif
Sans syrups of rhymes
And enigma of eccentricities,
They bind into concentric rings
Composed of forced meanings
And disastrous aesthete.
These days
All I can see, here—
Or there are abstruse philosophy
And bombastic poetry
With no depth, inherent or made,
People living a life
Repeating things
Reliving in cycles of pain and pleasure,
A life for others and strangers
Least of it for themselves,
There's accretion of monetary and
Superficial values.
The seed is given less sunshine
And unlimited water,
Eventually killing it before it ever sees the world.
I was never a speck of dust,
But a silent thought
Sometimes diminishing and mostly
Tumbling my way to nowhere,
Trying to find an escape
Not knowing the consequences
Of extrication results
In greater tangling of
Thoughts with existential crisis.
©thunderclap 16 Sept '21 -
miraquill
47w
Read More--
Complete the story challenge.
--
#writingcontest #contest #creativearena
Head to Creative Arena to participate in this writing contest and win a trophy!Complete the story challenge.
--Get creative and complete the following story--
On her 30th birthday, Ki woke up a little late and before her even realising it, she was standing next to the oldest closet in her room. She carefully opened it and pulled out a yellow diary. She smiled brightly while flipping through the pages as it reminded her of .... -
I spend all my time
in total seclusion,
scrutinizing a part
of me which i had
considered to be
dissipated in the void.
Examining a structure
of austenite, under a
microscope, embedded
in a polymer mold, and
beside that lay my
thoughts and my
incubated ideas in
a test tube.
For a brief moment,
i found myself playing
with all the
permutations and
combinations,
visualizing the existence
of a wormhole lodging
near Alpha centauri.
I would laugh at my own
speculations
and moor the fragments
of my racing senses with
the lacquer of rationality.
But as someone who loves
learning about numbers
that later can be used to
mimic reality whilst
surmising the inner
workings of dimension/s,
I wonder about apanthasia
and how visualization would
leave me and my senses.
-
Sometimes poetry is
just a function of
emotional entropy.
I store my poems as
a binary string of pixels
and characters,
compressed,
Such that the dimensions
or data or any algorithm
that isn't just the word
used to create the poem
will only add size,
and in those poems, i
search for infinities.
Just as a sphere has
infinite faces, a circle
has infinite vertices,
and so does the universe.
A crazy man asked me
once : If fourth dimension
is time so does it mean
my twin experiences
reverse time because he
just got reversed by the
fourth dimension? He
calls it the sorcery of
time-dilation.
- Tick - Tick -
The transparent clock
of the universe is ticking
counter-clockwise
and i see the numbers
from my side are mirrored,
perspective matters and so
does the content of it.
It ticks again and the
universe unfolds many
secrets that were concealed,
where? you may ask,
I point at 'c'.
So we wakeup each morning
to wait for the new day,
When 'c' finally moves
towards infinity.
©hafeezhmha -
kansha18
158w
Scuffle
There's been a scuffle
and no one can tell
the winner from the loser.
They have yet to see
the one who first fell
and who it was, that outmaneuvered.
The one who emerges victorious
will see the world through rose tinted glasses
while the one labelled inglorious
becomes the laughing stock of the masses.
Such is the nature of the fight
in which so many willingly participate,
much to the bystander's delight,
for there is something new to anticipate.
©kansha18 -
kansha18
157w
Rough Draft
Everything starts from nothing
and something derives from a start.
Perhaps we are all artists
provided with a blank canvas at birth.
where each person draws up a rough draft;
Carefully laying out the primary design
Of a future they so desire.
Some of us struggle to concieve an idea
while others struggle to sketch it out.
Fact of the matter is,
none of us have the perfect design;
we all refine our drafts in an attempt to obtain it
and the grand reveal is beautifully presented
when the final few grains of sand fall through to the other side of the hourglass.
©kansha18 -
I would paint some pink in blues,
And halt you in a bond that glues.
You'll be the yellow tint and I an orange mess,
Together be the sunshine in the attire we dress.
Green foliage beneath our feet,
Red in which our heart will beat.
Clouds will turn violet to rain,
Blessing us with the love we gain.
©kuhelika -
lovethatneverfades
58w
Read MoreThank you for your generosity @writersnetwork ❤️
You are love!
��������������
I've been told I am an average, not so bright
My grammar is weak and cadence, not of pride
I lack the ardour which ignites the playwright
My ideas are just obvious and trite
B
U
T
Little did they know,
I am a forlorn literary hack cloistered in a metaphorical garden
Rescuing myself from my own soul’s infernal horizons
Restructuring my choked up well, frozen in the petal shaped obsidian flower
Reincarnating the soul that died thrice in search of a four leaf clover
Unaffected by critics' conclusion
Working to bring calmness into my fear
From thoughts that has now darkened
Dousing my incendiary plumes
I write! I write lines without meter or rhymes
For writing, is my only saviour.
@lovethatneverfades
22.05.2021
#nightmare #wod #fear
#writersnetwork
#ceesreposts
#pod
#mirakee
@soulfulstirrings
#kwnreposts©lovethatneverfades
-
Chaos
For a long time, you didn't know
You didn't know what you're writing
What feels like you isn't about you
It's a chaos, a blunder of the mind
You're a blend of everything that isn't you
Once, you built a home upon lies
The brittle bones now bend your back
The curve of your spine looks scary
You run back home to find there's none
The pages of your diary have come loose
You struggle to hold the pen, you lose grip
The sky seems to fall upon you
Stars glimmer with a hope you don't seem to have
The tape recorder in your mind sings of profanity
You curse at the words your mouth forms
Language isn't the only barrier to speak
Your heart is a traitor, but a bigger one is you
You don't know you're lost
The pole star of your sky is a mirage
Directions form circles in your mind
You're losing the only hope you had
The pages give in to the chaotic wind
You let them go, fly away from you.
You're chaos and your words love peace.
So you leave, without telling them -
You weren't writing for peace but answers,
You weren't writing words but yourself.
__________________________________________
You were always a little lost,
Now your words are too.
©tamanna3 -
landscape
59w
Read MoreAPPETITE
Dinner was the
last served meal
I had before
this catastrophe.
The meal was hope
served with the
aura of echoing prayers.
It had the mellow of
sandalwood and
catalyst rendering
fainting of riots.
Freedom was the epitaph
on grey walls of custody,
the dullness being the custodian
promised a reality.
The epitaph murmured
a narrative,
a part of the unheard melodies.
The fountain water was tired
of flowing, the flow made her
eyes drown deep inside
the chasm of limitations.
The bowl of advices,
The realm of happiness,
Stood bare feet
looking at the mirror
day and night
and backyard of achievements
stood aside, watching faces.
They were watching faces.
They were watching faces which
do not match with their own,
the faces were lying in run over
corners of happiness,
they are still not served even
with the breakfast.
They are served with poverty
prior to empty bowls.
Dinner was the last meal
before our conversation
that brought us the
satisfaction of our day,
the eulogy to appetite
but see how these
empty bowls are
still vagabonds
with their masters.
- coral
#mellowc
#meal
#wod
Thank you so much team. @writersnetworkImpoverished ones run one step ahead of time but unfortunately, they do not get their bowls filled at 9 o'clock.
- Clock -
tamanna3
71w
Read MoreWhen your muse is gone,
You die a little inside.
When your muse is gone,
You're alone in the wild.
When your muse is gone,
Roses bloom but appeal not.
When your muse is gone,
No fire can melt the frost.
©tamanna3
Not related to anything. But, yes it is.When your muse is gone,
Poetry is but an abandoned home.
©tamanna3
