storytellersuchismita

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  • storytellersuchismita 97w

    And from the moment
    your skin left a soft touch in my skin
    secretly dripping the words to my ears
    that "my heart is beautiful",
    I don't find it any difficult to check myself up.
    I care for myself, staring at the mirror
    frequently, not for thousand hours in a year
    like the damsels,
    my mother doesn't anymore
    keeps on reminding to take my medicines
    that I never take on time
    and my changed self swallow them in seconds,
    I clean my clothes ,dress me up neat and tidy.
    I intentionally choose the glass ceiling
    over the cemented ones
    as my fallacy has a saying "prayers do not reach through the cemented ones",
    and pray for your eternal happiness.
    I am preparing to be the one
    who can worship you as a poetry after eons,
    as a melody after a long melancholy,
    and as a fine wine after a bitter gulp of black coffee.
    You feel like the human embodiment of paradise,
    you unknowingly right the every wrong I do,
    your smell has the aroma of that very angel
    who sent you on earth with a graffiti of temple.
    I was an atheist until you crossed my path,
    but your closure turned me into
    a patronizer of artistic love,
    a crusader of divinity,
    and an avid pilgrim of your temple.


    The day you looked deep into my eyes,
    piercing the sordid, simplifying the storm
    beneath the abyss of my self-doubt
    I had no way left except falling in love with you.
    I always have wanted to fall out of love,
    deeply and restlessly
    but your one step turned me a cynical lover,
    you called my heart beautiful and my eyes powerful.
    You might be clueless
    how much I save the urge to kiss you under my skin,
    I want to taste the very earth you belong,
    I want to feel the peace you save under your tongue,
    and I want to read the words you keep near to your soul.

    I read poems of Sylvia Plath,
    William Wordsworth and John Keats.
    I flip the pages of Romeo Juliet now,
    and then my quest ends on Rabindranath everytime,
    neither I know the language you sing the song of love,
    nor I know if you ever go through my poems,
    that are written on a very lonely night
    with your thoughts ,on repeat mode
    and my pen, in no urge to surrender.
    I don't know how paradise looks like
    still my faith blindly exposes
    in the paths of your world
    that exactly has a elating paradise
    planting love and compassion.

    People say I write weird poems,
    extremely skeptical and voidy,
    I say it's my method to lock people
    out of my sight, out of my reach.
    I saw a wedding card written paradise in middle of it,
    and again it reminded me of you,
    not because my worsening urge to marry you at this very moment,
    but for the velvety red colour of it nowhere matches with your alpen glow,
    that has familiarity of paradisiacal elegance.


    Falling in love has forever been the glorifying sacrifice
    when someone portrays the canvas
    with the unrequited love
    yet so vibrant, so soothing, so full of rainbows,
    that it turns the ambience into a paradise.
    I fear to call you 'My love'
    where my own city's been named into it
    that stealthily gets lost in the alleys of time.
    From the moment my heart turned beautiful,
    I no more search for the paradise I could breathe peace
    as it was right in you, beneath the slope of your heart,
    and in my poems, carving nocturne to serve you.

    ~ ©storytellersuchismita


    #poetrycommunity #poetry #poetrylover #poetryisnotdead @mirakee @mirakeeworld @writersnetwork @readwriteunite

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    PARADISE - THE POETIC NOCTURNE

    "I fear to call you 'My love'
    where my own city's been named into it
    that stealthily gets lost in the alleys of time...."

    ~ ©storytellersuchismita

  • storytellersuchismita 108w

    To
    Myself that's stepping into 2020,

    As I stay awake hearing the clock tick-tocking, to bid 2019 a good-bye, & outside there's a world cheering with millions of crackers & seeds of wishes, I foresee my soul germinating from a long hibernation to take an oath (compositing thousands of responsibilities in it) . I promise myself to never suppress my thoughts among the oddest crowd of chauvin polymaths. I promise myself to never run behind the people & crawl for their fake adorations & give myself enough time to understand nature's gestures. I take an oath looking up at the ceiling, which apparently bars my prayers to reach up to the womb of God (most probably living in the topmost height of the universe, far beyond the limits of sky) that may I be able to fight back against every appalling beckons & disguised vices firmly & recognise the sweetest backstabbers. I take a pledge of occupying my time more in finding my true self, my reason for existence than listening to those useless bad-mouthing about others. I shall stay committed to "breathe more" than to "run faster". I have a commitment to please my parents who leave no effort undone to turn days into nights & vice-versa only for me. My goal won't be reaching the peak of success but to the peak of happiness than can quicken success. I wish all my restlessness will pause entering into a library, but not in the picturesque places I googled all the time. I pray to God not to stop bouncing me up with challenges, but to give me enough strength to pass with head held high. And, then among all the wishes & resolutions, I, being a nature lover, a soul with all the human senses, pray for a pollution free environment & a better world with all the hands tightened to make a ring of unity irrespective of their "color-caste-creed-religion-looks-body shapes".
    Last but not the least, I want to see a 'satisfied' soul of me reminiscing the past events & pat my shoulder for existing over all the odds gladly & proudly.

    From,
    My optimist soul of 2019.

    ~©storytellersuchismita


    #writersnetwork
    #readwriteunite
    #mirakee @mirakee @readwriteunite @writersnetwork

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    RESOLUTIONS

    ©storytellersuchismita

  • storytellersuchismita 124w

    Those Tricycle Times

    Those tricycle times
    Passed long ago, but still alive
    In every mirage of childhood diaries.
    Flashbacks come like magic
    Spelling over my mind to crave again
    Hardly & strongly to cherish them back.
    Sanely-insane dipped love in rainbows
    Traced shimmery happiness in ice-creams & chocolates.
    School days were beyond the fun
    Where recess germinated new saplings of friendships.
    Today, crossing through the memory lanes,
    A gust of mourning wind beckons me to revert back,
    Alas! Can't go back to the funny rides of merry-go-round
    slippery slopes or, to the swings of children park;
    Day by day, crinkled memories supposed to make me
    weaker ,as burden of adulthood spurns my glee.
    Nights aren't filled with redolent lullabies or dreams,
    But the horrific nightmares of hectic schedule haunt me.
    Those tiny footsteps were so sync
    With the tunes of my lost charm & ultimate ecstasy.
    When the dung of the world engulfs my shady mind,
    I always surrender my soul to those happiest tricycle times.


    ~©storytellersuchismita

  • storytellersuchismita 125w

    Barren Footprints

    Dark frosty night,
    No humans around the sight,
    Dense hazy forest shields the nuisance
    & lunatic silence laughs loudly.
    She proceeds further with numb heart
    & shaky hands, choked throat,
    Her eyes as tantalised as she's sniffed drugs,
    She feels a frozen breathe over her shoulder,
    & a tight cling on her unmovable legs;
    She efforts hard yet can't run.
    Summer is still so far, but she perspires every second,
    Fear kills her when she notices bloody footprints
    Encircling her paths & galloping her slightest hope.
    Death is near, she surmises clearly,
    & her restlessness to run climbs on her nerve.
    Spooky laughters flood the forest,
    A trap, inevitable, & an end, dreadly enough
    Are calling her name loudly.
    She foresees her skull scattered here in the leafy leaps,
    & some thirsty wraiths swallowing her blood & flesh,
    All she longed for her life was a soothing end,
    & now she bids her soul a good-bye with watery eyes.
    Slowly she drools & collapses on the floor of leaves,
    Ensuing death surrenders in front of a pair of barren footprints.

    ~©storytellersuchismita

  • storytellersuchismita 128w

    ◾An Open Letter To Roger Federer◾

    Dear Federer,

    Being a die-hard cricket lover, tennis was totally out of my league until you'd shown up & smitten my heart with your aura. My childhood has been spent reading the daily current affairs of how many records you're breaking in each & every tennis season. Your love & dedication was something worth discussing. You've inspired me so much that I was drawn to watching your spellbound talent on television screen. I so wish I could get a chance to be a part of the lucky audience who engulfed your incredible sport with immense pleasure. Needless to mention, you are one of those personas, to achieve love worldwide having a very few haters.

    The way you spread magic with each stroke of your tennis racket has made me your one of the pious fans among millions. You're one kind of yourself, & undefinable by how many wimbledons you won, how many Tennis Opens you've won, how many milestones you've smoothly touched or how many times you've been ranked 1st in the entire world. Again, the numerous no of times you owned hearts & continuing to do so is your success, the millions of hearts have taken you as an idol & an inspiration proves your credibility or how much labour you put to outshone & overcome struggles & storms proves your invincible strength.
    The man who cried maintaining an impeccable records every time is the one who owns a pure heart.

    Last but not the least, I want to thank you for everything you've offered us as a head-turning sportsman to never give up on our dreams, for teaching us patience & unconditional love for passion, for portraying the amazing side of sportsmanship & telling us secretly to evolve ourselves as good human beings.

    Wish you a very happy birthday to the God of tennis. We'll always be an eager audience to experience your magic both staying in stadium & in home.

    From,
    An earnest fan.

    ~ ©storytellersuchismita



    #HappyBirthdayRogerFederer #caption #openletter #pod @writersnetwork @readwriteunite @mirakee

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    An Open Letter To Roger Federer

    ©storytellersuchismita

  • storytellersuchismita 128w

    ◾An Open Letter To Kane Williamson◾


    Dear Kane,

    The letter I am writing right now is an absolute result that drawn me towards you, after watching your magnificent performance on World Cup 2019. Based on a country worships cricket as temple & cricketers as God, I was blindfolded towards the cricketers of my country. I've always been an arrogant fan but you broke my misconception with your warrior attitude.


    New Zealand is recognised as a balanced team but in comparison to other strong teams, it wasn't up to that mark. It won't be possible to fight like a brave warrior on the battlefield of cricket, against other teams unless you won't be the pioneer & nourish the team more than anyone as a captain. Guiding an under poverished team & boosting their mentality as well as skills in ever sense to make it onto finals , followed by an unblemished performance & cool mentality under tough circumstances showcased an inevitable Kane Williamson in front of us.

    No show off , no extra aggression, no sledging, maintaining decency, supplying a backbone to the team, calm attitude & humbleness, Kane , you were a blend of perfection & true icon as a leader I look upto after MSD. Having a spellbound cricket career with decent scores in all 3 formats, you never showed up as a chauvin sportsman. The more I will say, the less it will seem.
    Evacuating every odds, & overcoming all the bars, you delivered an ever-enjoying & notable cricket to us. Though New Zealand didn't get the cup this season, but a perfect portraiture of indomitable willpower & ultimate warrior mentality till last minute proved your team as a real winner.
    Your unending efforts, brave decisions on field & untarnished flair in cricket made you a symbol of perfect cricket in the entire world. Nobody will forget your hardwork & you as an exceptional talent till the day cricket survives.

    Wishing you a very happy birthday, Kane, the iconic captain of New Zealand. Hope the upcoming years, we will rejoice your splendid sportsmanship more & witness a unique essence of cricket.

    From,
    An ardent fan.

    ~ ©storytellersuchismita

    #HappyBirthdayKane #caption #openletter #pod @writersnetwork @readwriteunite @mirakee

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    An Open Letter To Kane Williamson

    ©storytellersuchismita

  • storytellersuchismita 128w

    Rabindranath Tagore, the name celebrated worldwide for the irreplaceable contribution in literature, empowering in the hearts of Bengalis as well as to every literature lover, led the nation as a path finder exploring new sides of creativity & illuminating the renaissance in artistic world , had mercilessly left the world on 7th august, 1941 evacuating everyone mourned in tears. The day, 7th august was dated "22se Srabon" in bengali calendar is been whole-hearedly observed among artists & writers throughout the world as his death anniversary.
    An impeccable polymath, indelible poet, incredible musician, inconceivable artist & intellect, our "Kabiguru" or "Biswaskabi" was gem of a person. Besides possessing everyone with his spellbound talent, his fearless endeavours have always enriched us with broad mind & refined art. We, as a civilized nation are forever grateful to his unending offerings & follow him whenever facing a problem with his song , " Jodi Tor Dak Shune Keu Na Ase, Tobe Ekla Cholo Re" or, recall those great lines from his poetry ,
    " When the mind is without fear
    & the head is held high.
    Where knowledge is free
    Where the world has not been broken up
    Into fragments by narrow domestic walls."


    ~ ©storytellersuchismita

    #DeathAnniversaryofBiswakabi #caption #tribute #pod @writersnetwork @readwriteunite @mirakee

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    22 Se Srabon

    ©storytellersuchismita

  • storytellersuchismita 128w

    6 th August, 2019 was like any other normal day, until & unless the news channels were flooded with the breaking news of our former foreign minister, Susma Swaraj's sudden death . The only person I looked into these days on politics, was her. Her sudden death came as a shock to me. From serving as the youngest cabinet minister to being the chief minister of Delhi, and then consecutively showing an outstanding intellectuality as a minister of external affairs, minister of parliamentary officer, member of lok sabha & etc. We've shown a very few multi-talented identities like her in our nation. Each & every sphere she's touched has turned into gold. Being an extremely educated woman & serving as a respectable supreme-court lawyer, she came out as a great example of women empowerment in India. With her sudden death, India lost a gem, a precious star & a true icon in every sense. Whenever we , as a nation suffered , she tirelessly fought for our betterment. Maybe, phenomenal leaders who'd served, has served & are serving for the development of a nation come with a short span to show their enigma, just like our iron lady, Sushma Swaraj Jii.
    Madam, we shall never forget your endless contribution for our country as tears fall unwittingly when a soul turns into a star in the sky. May your soul rest in peace!

    ~ ©storytellersuchismita

    #RipSushmaSwarajJii #thetrueicon #ironlady #caption #tribute @writersnetwork @readwriteunite @mirakee

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    Tears Fall Unwittingly When A Precious Soul Suddenly Turns Into A Star

    ©storytellersuchismita

  • storytellersuchismita 129w

    ◾A Short Notion To Hiroshima Day◾

    Hiroshima, a small town , engraved in the heart of Japan,long has enrolled its name of a black day.
    How ironic it was, a bomb named "Little Boy" dropped & destroyed the whole entity on 6th august, 1945 at the same time showed the shabby eradication of humanity. People here never knew how they were going to be permanently wiped out from their own land. I wonder, did the day present itself 74 years back exactly the same as it is going to be tomorrow? Didn't the morning show the whole scenario of scattered flesh-blood & body that day? Was it the fault of those 70k & more people to not understand a pinch of this gigantic massacre? Didn't the poisonous smokes blind the eyes of the whole world ? Didn't they get dumb, numb & exhausted watching so many innocent souls got brutally buried in the pure land?
    I so wish the red-stained soil should have splintered an artist's soul!
    I so wish a writer, a poet, a painter, a dancer, a singer & others who aim for the freedom, & the free endless blues of sky, might have paused & again sharpened their weapons of arts to spit on the attempt of this contemptible crime.
    I so wish the whole universe should have cried & never set themselves only in silent sobs!

    So many questions brewed in my mind, remained unanswered & then vanquished me! Nothing can be hidden under the tag of just a "Black Day" , 6th August.
    No pen can heal the pain they suffered, they still suffer when year turns after years & will continue suffering for the next thousand years until the whole existence of human beings will stop the war game , mostly the hunger game of blood!

    ~ ©storytellersuchismita

    Picture Credit : Google Image


    #HroshimaDay #captiontale #personalmemoir #shortnotion #shortarticle @readwriteunite @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    ©storytellersuchismita

  • storytellersuchismita 129w

    ◾Friendship◾

    Years passed away,
    School days faded away,
    College days stumbled upon on the finishing line,
    Days waved 'goodbye',
    & golden moments turned as mere memories.
    But the friends we left behind
    Still beckon us for a gossip over a cup of chai,
    For a sudden trip on the hills of joy,
    For an instant mood swing in a lonesome evening,
    Or for a break in our monotonous life.
    Friends feel like the season of spring,
    As they reverberates the tunes of a guitar string,
    Our shenanigans chant the new mantras of living,
    Songs are the friends whereas lyrics are the tales of
    our togetherness;
    On a mysterious journey called 'life',
    We need our friends to be as nomad as us to
    strengthen our basics.
    Some stories ,too confidential to be shared,
    Are only enjoyed by the friends for a strange trust.
    Some stories, so unique to be shared with special,
    Are relished by the friends for a recreation of memories.
    Friendship means loyalty when you cherish it,
    Friendship feels honest when you give all of it,
    Friendship brings care when you know how to care
    & friendship recalls love when you fly in the air.
    Obstructions come & pushed back to return
    Only when your friend fight for you;
    Vivacious , compassionate, mesmerising & strong,
    Friendship is a compacted package for lifelong.
    We are so blind without our mates
    As our friendship are one of their own kind,
    Every single day & every single night,
    When the stars shimmer so bright,
    We search our lost companions over the sky.
    God knows if they still miss our vines,
    When we gladly used to spend our time,
    Hours & minutes count our age,
    Rapidly increasing like a ladder
    & growing old in our own life-stage.
    As long as we breath for the last time,
    There'll be wishes to meet our old love;
    The love of school friends & their stories
    When we cried & laughed at the same time
    in our friendship's glory.

    ~ ©storytellersuchismita