Miraquill
Anticipation
Parched lands look
sky smiles back now
Clouds appear.
Path seems to end now
Traveller smiles back
I'm home soon.
Broken heart cried,
Faith moved mountains and
Found myself too.
Hope, faith, love
Keep them with you in
Anticipation
Miracles happen,
Give them time to reach you,
Don't give up just yet.
©the_blu_phoenix
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the_blu_phoenix
2w
Read MoreI tried creating a haiku poem on the word of the day.
#pod #anticipation #haiku #writersnetwork #readwriteunite #mirakee #wordoftheday -
the_blu_phoenix
10w
Read More
I hope you like it more when it reaches the end. #writersnetwork #readwriteunite #mirakee #pod
Spin.
Go around in circles.
The universe is the farthest that we have presumed nature to be and so far, all of it runs in circles.
Galaxies revolving around each other.
The planets revolving around the sun.
The moon revolving around our planet.
In the middle of everything, there's us.
We come to this world, starting from nothingness.
Somewhere, running in circles, we build our world.
We revolve around, we create, we grow.
As we spin, we are moulded.
Our experiences change.
Growth happens.
Growth feels like a hand sculpting us and we don't know how we'll turn out.
We spin, we run In circles.
We trust the hand moulding us, shaping us, sculpting us.
After all, doesn't the universe come down to a glimmer of hope that it will all turn out okay in the end?
After all, we're all born of dust, and to dust we shall return.
But in middle of it all, there's a circle of life, my dear.
You'll go through it. You'll grow through it.
You're the centre of my universe right now.
You're about to start the circle of life.
Are you ready for it, little one?
//conversations between a potter's wheel while a pot is coming to life//
©the_blu_phoenix -
the_blu_phoenix
56w
Read More
We've all had our fair share of distance, even more with the pandemic.
This is a little moment that I've imagined where we could just meet once more and hug without any hesitation.
Hope you're doing well my loves.
#writersnetwork #readwriteunite #pod #mirakee #musings #distance #loveHere’s to distance.
Here's to the miles that break us, that separate us.
Here's to the queue at the station that I stand waiting for your arrival
Here's to the one metre that I bridge before I melt in your arms
Here's to the proximity that I inhale before I tear up and kiss you.
Here's to the year I wrote a letter every time I missed you and ran out of envelopes.
Here’s to the months I spent making plans for what we'd do when we meet.
Here's to the days I work overtime for completing all the tasks before I leave.
Here's to the hours that I looked at the world passing by as if the map is folding upon itself
Here's to the minutes I count holding my breath.
Here's to the second I saw you and time just paused.
Here's to every curse I made to the distance that kept us apart,
Here's to every pang of jealousy I felt for the ones who could hold their lovers in their arms everyday
Here's to the hopelessness I felt when I couldn't comfort you when you cried
Here's to the prayers I made at 3 am, wishing to be with you just for a second
Here's to the hope to meet you soon
Here's to the prayers that came true.
Here's to the bliss I felt to be in your arms.
Here's to the forever that we've imagined.
Here's to the dreams.
Here's to us.
You're here.
©the_blu_phoenix -
The year changes. The stage, the backdrop, the characters change. What was then in your To Do list, maybe it's now staying as a picture on your wall, with you smiling like a kid.
The world around us changes a million times in a year. Maybe the world inside us changes too?
As I stand on the precipice of a new year, an adventure awaits. There are To Do Lists and To Be lists. There are dreams in my pocket and Fairydust in my hopes.
Day 1/365, I feel like I'm getting the hang of it?
Let's see what the universe has in store for me.
After all, a lot changes in a year, doesn't it?
©the_blu_phoenix -
the_blu_phoenix
113w
Read More
It feels too personal to share, but I need everyone to know abt the person who inspired me. Who still makes me strive to be the best version of myself.
The man ahead of his time.
They say that very few people actually live their life. The rest of them, merely exist.
Meeting such people makes you feel like you've swallowed a bucketful of sunshine. Like the world is trying to catch up with their pace. They float when others trudge, they hope when others fear, they comfort when the world despises.
They live life so magnificently, that when they go, they leave a void so deep, it becomes impossible to ever fill it. It always feels like they were taken too soon.
My Nana was one such person. Always a beacon of hope. Always updated with every information about everything there is to know. He gave the best upbringing to his children, unparalleled by anyone. He raised them with a zeal that it stays an example for generations. Always on time in his actions and always ahead of time in his thoughts.
When you looked in his eyes, there was a spark, a spark that shone with every emotion in the world. He always wanted to be the best version of himself. For his wife, for his children, for his brothers, for his grandchildren. He would do anything for them.
He would've been 72 today. If he were here, he'd celebrate his birthday with such a happy smile. He'd be so proud of us all. He'd guide us. He'd still have his radio on at 4:52 am for his news. He'd still wake up and water his plants. He'd still need dinner at 8 pm sharp because that was the kind of person he was.
Even today, if I'm stuck in any problem, I think of him. Of how he would have guided me. Of how he'd have given me advice or hope.
Out of all the things, I miss that hug he gave us when we reached Nanighar. When he would wait at the door when we came. Always.
Dear Nana, we all miss you.
Hope you're missing us from Heaven too.
Yours,
The children who are missing you the most today. -
the_blu_phoenix
116w
Read More
The first two lines just popped up when I was doing some chores in the kitchen.
Maybe this signals the end of a thought block, or a writer's block?
Hmm, maybe I smell some hope in there.
Let's hope this happens everyday.
Hope you're alright, my loves.
I miss you all too.
#writersnetwork #readwriteunite #pod #mirakee #doctor
#love #regret #rhyme. #love #life #inspiration #friendship #thoughts #poetry #diaryPause, Rewind, Replay.
Let's pick up where we left off,
Throw our worries in the air,
Let's go back to that place we created,
Where we didn't pretend that we care.
Let's play that favorite song of ours,
And dance like there's no tomorrow,
Let's close our eyes and open our hearts,
Maybe it'll disappear our sorrows?
Let's smile like those idiots that we were,
When we loved without any bounds,
Let me read that poem that you loved,
Of how your voice was my favorite sound.
Let's forget for a moment,
Of how we got here like this,
Let's read the spaces between our lines,
There's a galaxy that we missed.
Let's pick up where we left off, love,
Throw the regrets in the air,
Let me write you a love song, for a change,
And put some flowers in your hair?
©the_blu_phoenix -
the_blu_phoenix
118w
Read More
I think I needed to post this.
Cherish this time, because the doctors on duty are fighting with all they can, for you.
#writersnetwork #readwriteunite #pod #mirakee #doctor #thoughts #poetry #diary #inspiration #lifeDear human who's at home in the Lockdown,
I know, you're craving a bit of an open air, a bit of a long drive, a small outlet of a getaway.
I wish that too.
In fact, I'd swap to be you, rightnow.
But I can't.
When you're so bored of sitting in one place all day,
I have to run around, day and night, sometimes 2 shifts at a time.
When you're busy participating in insta challenges,
I'm challenging death by fighting for you.
When you're saying that you want some change of air,
I'm having a risk of exposure with every breath I take in this place.
When you say you can't go outside to meet your friends,
I haven't seen my family since 8 months.
When you get so tired of eating simple daal chawal at home,
My mom has left a message asking me and hoping that I had time for dinner.
When you're making videos and sharing whatsapp forwards in your group,
I can't even touch my phone without properly sanitising it at frequent intervals.
When you say that you've never been locked in your home for such long periods,
My hostel room is being evacuated for making isolation wards for you.
When you're off hoarding every good quality masks for your family,
We here, sometimes are not getting one, here in hospitals because the stock has been over a long time ago.
I know, dear human,
I might seem bitter and even jealous of you right now seeing you spend time with your family.
But don't worry.
I'll still be here for you,
Fighting the odds,
Doing whatever I can,
Because that's what I'm meant to do.
Just stay at home and cherish this, will you?
Yours,
The doctor on duty rightnow.
©the_blu_phoenix -
the_blu_phoenix
119w
Read More
Day 1 of staying at home. I'm trying to work up my muscle of creativity after a long time, and this is a little attempt at that.
Stay at home, folks.
Happy world poetry day.In the silence between us,
There lies a universe of words,
Words that were left hanging in the air.
In the time zones that separate us,
There lies a moment where we both think of each other, at the same time.
In the space between us,
There lies a map that I wish to fold so many times,
that suddenly, you won't feel so far away.
In this moment that I am in,
I spin the words that were left unsaid,
I turn the moments into these little lines,
I fill up the space with my feelings.
Together,
They turn into this poem,
And suddenly, my soul doesn't feel so lonely anymore.
©the_blu_phoenix -
the_blu_phoenix
122w
Read More
Just take a leap down the memory lane.
One leap year to the next.
You'll see yourself in all those phases.
I promise it will be worth it.
#leapyear #leapday #dreams #hopes #smile #writersnetwork #readwriteunite #pod #mirakeeTo the leap day,
Welcome back! It feels like you were gone just a little while ago and looking back at when you were here last time, it's like visiting a time machine.
I've come so far from who I was, that I wouldn't even have recognised her if she'd crossed me rightnow.
This leap day, last year, in my room, I was thinking about how I'd pass these years to become a doctor. Rightnow, I am one. The next leap day, I'll be more of it. A better healer, hopefully.
What I'm saying is, I just took a journey down the leap years I've been in and I'm here, fulfilling my dreams, stumbling, trying again. But hopeful, all the same.
I hope, February 29, meeting you again, and a bit closer to the dream, a better version of me, who's just as hopeful.
Yours,
The girl with a dream and some pixie dust.
©the_blu_phoenix -
the_blu_phoenix
129w
Breeze and Thunderstorms
So it happened. The thing you waited for. The thing everyone else knew you'd win. The thing you hoped you'd win. You counted on it. You counted down for it. You spent your nights awake and your days working on it.
It was supposed to be a breeze. A breath of fresh air later. A sigh of relief. A moment that you'd get with the peace of satisfaction. An assurance that your efforts didn't go to vain.
Except that it didn't. It wasn't a breeze. It was a thunderstorm. You'd trained your eyes for situations like these but your eyes weren't ready. Your hands were cold and your legs were lead. You made mistakes. Big ones. You didn't know what was happening until you were out of it.
And now, when you are out of it, you don't have the peace. You don't have the satisfaction. You have regrets. You have questions. You have the uncertainty and you hate uncertainty.
You counted upon something so much that it was there. You could feel it was real and you were touching it. What are you supposed to do when it turns into smoke? Where are you supposed to find that hope? That faith?
It's an answer I'm still searching for.
©the_blu_phoenix
-
Some poets sing
the Fire Song and
hold infinity
captive in four verses.
Some poets write love
letters to the Ocean and
write epitaphs for
axed trees.
Some poets write colours
into existence
and hide full length symphonies
between words.
Some poets scream
with their pen
and their poems are roars
that tear through the Night.
All poets speak in the tongue of Power.
All poets call Vulnerability Home.
All poets strew pieces of them in the poems they write
and
All poets are immortal.
©artemiswrites -
allbymyself
145w
Read MoreYou perch perilously
Close to chaos
With feet dangling
On two edges
Of a mountain
Your arms are
Wings, and they
Have been scarred
But you do
Not know what
Its like to
Have them cut off
And I love
You, so I
Beseech you to
Step back, you
Smile and say
That this is
Not a fight
You will ever
Back away from.
I watch you
As your heart
Carries the hopes
Of the many
Whose tongues were
Ripped out, and
Your voice rises
To a crescendo
As the words
Fall from your
Lips like bullets
From a firing
Range, they crash
To the ground
And shatter a
Silence that had
Become too comfortable
Grown too commonplace
Now I understand
Why you were
Willing to stand
Even if you
Had nobody to
Stand beside you.
Tonight, an idea
Takes birth in
Your soul, and
You are both
Its father and
Mother, your face
Is coincidental, and
So is the
Skin and bones
That lie beneath
Them, it is
A delicate balance
Between anarchy and
Revolution, a fine
Line that you
Have become a
Master in treading
Words are a
Rather precious gift
And you only
Yield them to
Speak for those
Who have stories
To be told
But no one
To hear them.
- Avitaj
Last paragraph inspired from V for Vendetta.
@accismus @dopamine @greeneyedmonsterThe Edge of Reason
Once the idea exists, it cannot be killed.
- Sherlock -
ghoulfrost
151w
Read MoreThe skies are dark and empty
The sea is deep,
The woods are full and lovely,
But I seem to recall having promises to keep
Thoughts swim around in the murky depths that be called my mind
Numbers that cease to be except just before I fall asleep.
Truths that elude understanding except the night sets in.
It's all white noise up there, though I always loved whale sounds and orchestral symphonies are to my fancy.
There's a woman in blue singing and the dark man that I am is behind the piano.
I know her face, I remember her name but I black out of sight when the world turns off and she's the only one left.
Being lonely is pathetic, being hungry for a need that you can't fix
(Or is it a fix that you don't need?)
She sings still.
The nightingale is always a serenading mystery.
There is a war.
Rumours of war are often wars that are ignored until nothing remains.
Losing you feels okay.
Loss is natural to the lost, but the unloved feels empty too.
I see a light.
Chocolate appeals to me, still caramel has got its hold on me.
I lo......
What was never mine cannot recognise me as anything but a distraction.
I want to be clear, but the cryptic clutter are the only means by which the lunatic communicates.
These are the first words from my pen or lips in 36 days.
I regret even speaking now still.
Do you recall who I used to be?
Silence is a gift to the mute, a blessing to the dying, but it kills the insane.
Problem is;
I am not sure which of these I am, or if you exist.
...
It has begun again.
I have no more promises to keep
And the wind is wild tonight
Whose thoughts are these?
The woods are not mine but the sea exists
The Lady in blue is singing
And I have miles to go before I sleep
And faces to recall before I dream.
©ghoulfrostThe skies are dark and empty
The sea is deep,
The woods are full and lovely,
But I seem to recall having promises to keep
There's a woman in blue singing and the dark man that I am is behind the piano.
I know her face, I remember her name but I black out of sight when the world turns off and she's the only one left.
These are the first words from my pen or lips in 36 days.
I regret even speaking now still.
Do you recall who I used to be?
Silence is a gift to the mute, a blessing to the dying, but it kills the insane.
Problem is;
I am not sure which of these I am, or if you exist...
It has begun again.
The Lady in blue is singing
And I have miles to go before I sleep
And faces to recall before I dream.
©ghoulfrost -
baddiexmegh
156w
Read MoreLove is like a tattoo etched upon your heart. It can never be erased completely. You can cover it with the brunette locks of yours or the varied coloured sleeves that you’ve chose to rest your heart upon for the day, blue being your favourite.
(This is ridiculously long, I know. But, words are never sufficient to describe love, are they?)An aubade for my poet
It was a while ago,
I fell in love with a poet
He used to name his poems after me
His verses told the way my eyes glinted
when I was happy
The way my lips perked up
into a radiant smile
According to him,
My smile was a girandole
of infinite stars
He even painted my doldrums
With utmost perfection
Used to say that I was his precious something
I used to chuckle and
Say, “I am nothing special, silly”
He just used to smile
And that darn smile
Spoke volumes that he never could
He used to stay mute, while I rambled all over
He always loved the sky, used to say that it’d rain
Whenever the clouds cry
A strange way to see the world, isn’t it?
He used to strum the guitar strings
And used to dance his fingers,
Along the piano keys, quite artfully
As if it was nothing at all
I had asked him a million times
How he had learnt everything
His silence greeted me again
No matter how much I wanted to slam my door
On his face, I never could
I just used to sigh and let him in
That is the thing, you see,
When you fall in love with a writer,
He’d never let you forget him
Even if I say that I’ve moved on,
I can’t help but read his poems
when the day dies
Read his words etched in letters
That he used to send
In the old-fashioned way
For, nobody could fathom him
Like words did, not even me
We fell in love when we were mere teenagers
From silly love-sick poems to
Profound ones with
metaphors clinging to them,
All about love, we grew up
I now sit, with a faint smile etched onto my face
People ask why I haven’t moved on yet
Ridiculous question, is it not?
I close my eyes shut,
my vision blurring with tears
As I ignore the banters
Screaming at me to forget
It was some silly young love, they say
If only they knew, love, if only
It’s been a few years but,
I still hang around him whispering,
“Love, when you fall in love with a writer
You’d do anything just not to let them die
You breathe in their words
Feed upon their dead scent
Anything at all, to keep them alive
Within yourself”
He stole my heart and I let him keep it
As an eternal souvenir, without a doubt
©meghana27 -
blahhhhhhh
156w
Read MoreI had asked people for some writing prompts as I was out of ideas and the lovely @ariachez suggested the topic "love wrapped in..." I literally wrapped love in something!
I had been working on this for a long time but it has been hard to write these days.
It's about our hunger for love. Be it on social media or in real life. It's about the fake love we seek.
________________________________________
ARTIFICIAL LOVE
Love wrapped in silhouettes
And stars.
Is draped in tainted glass.
They sell it by the kilo,
In silk and timber flasks,
Adorned with expensive jewels
To give the bottle some spark.
The market is flooded with buyers
Paying handsomely for the broth.
They await the potion to cook through;
Brewed from exuberant flowers.
The roar just keeps on surging,
As the elixir is dripped into its pot.
The crowd is consumed in chaos
And a chance to fight for the box.
Clashes and betrayals follow,
To attain the illusion of love.
It's sad how we break people,
To repair our broken scars.
In the end it's all just empty -
The vials and even the hearts.
- Arushi Sharma
©halcyonArtificial love
//Clashes and betrayals follow,
To attain the illusion of love.
It's sad how we break people,
To repair our broken scars.
In the end it's all just empty -
The vials and even the hearts.//
- Arushi Sharma
©halcyon -
jakebard
156w
Lost
Strange how any of us
Could feel at home
In such an alien world
Will life find a way
Or will time outrun us
Could it be these dreams
Were meant to bewilder us
Now that the choice was mine
And mine alone
To let them die
Or soar on heavy wings
The reveries of flight
Had always kept my heart misgiven
I've closed my eyes
Breathed a thousand lives
In dreams too bright to last
Peeled the deadwood from my eyes
The spectre of each dream
Is here to stay and haunt
Too weird to live, too rare to die
Born to love and cursed to feel
I get lost in the music for hours
How long can I look away
Wondering where did I go wrong
What did'nt I do right
I've clung so tight
To ghosts of past
If things dont slow down,
I'll just fall through
The cracks in my mind
And I cant hide,
God knows how hard i've tried
I see the truth in my lies
I weep the pride and remorse
Wallow in self elevation and self pity
The bridges are burning
And the tide is turning
I gaze past the veils of virtue
And rip the masks of vice
An enigma in the making
Every breath is mine for the taking
I am barely me
I've wasted so much time
Waging wars that can't be won
Searching for the right things
In all the wrong places
I've sweetened the fear of fey
With so little words to which I lay
They are never enough and yet
I scribble them down
Hoping they'll save me
When I'm only lost,
Lost as I'll ever be ..
©jakebard -
avihra
189w
Read MoreNOT POETRY ENOUGH
Was my love not poetry enough
For stargazers studded in shimmering hues
In the long journeyed galaxies with racing blues?
Was my love not poetry enough
For the monsters with deafening roars
Hiding under the lamp posts with a soft past that bellowed?
Was my love not poetry enough
For the birds of nonchalant voice amidst
The river cries, with their tuned dyes
gushing through all that life?
Was my love never poetry enough
For the man under the mask
With eyes like that of a petrichor
Who wrote poems about a girl in white
And told me I was like exactly her poetic sight?
For this man was a demon
with twisted horns and curled smiles
Who told me he loved me
like a stare-er of the darkened nights
And vanished like a dried voice
Spreading perfect rainbows of happiness
Flew like a humming bird
in foreboding waters of raided tales
For his poetry wasn't tamed by warmth
And just my love was never enough.
©avihra
#poetry #pod #love #notenough #strgazers #birds #monsters
@raika_ashraf @hushed_words @chaotichunch @solace @sagarika_writes @mismagical @fariq_bhat @phoenicorn @ruen_roven
Please do tell me if you donot like being tagged.
Credit for backgroud: Its always Pinterest.��❤~NOT POETRY ENOUGH~
(Read Caption) -
phoenicorn
161w
.
-
ghoulfrost
170w
Read More
I write in blurred lines,
The empty white is like a controlled flame
I treat everything like bloody arson's lullabies
But I am a cryomaniac,
So I have the cold seep in, hypothermia in the vein.
It's hard to understand it,
The words are like rattled mice in a burning cage
I shove logic right up there, letters for every twist of the cube(Rubik's)
But I'm a masochist
Indescribable as it is, it rips me asunder with exquisite pain.
Love is a nasty game,
21st century version of it has a way of making you crazy
Affections and your counter decisions always needing updates
But I'm an ace lover,
So I give my hearts to beautiful sirens, Davy Jones knows me by name.
Nocturnal by nature
Long have I been friends with the night
I love sleep the way an alcoholic loves Walker and Nessy
But I'm an insomniac
Stare at the ceiling half the night, the rest spent in the dark, I receive sight.
Watch me caress the keys
Cocaine and charcoal mixed so imperfectly your ears might bleed
I believed in music, classic Beethoven might detest me for being deaf too.
But I'm a virtuoso
Somehow, whenever I play the piano, people shed tears and never leave.
My eyes look old
Evidence of a tortured soul, lens change to blur the reveal
My colour's a ragged brown, chocolate that got scorched in uncomfortable places
But I'm a lost boy
Pan took my body as it was and made it his, a thousand curses.
Reptiles adore me
Well, most animals like me, and to others, I'm supper for an empty belly
I seem nice and all, the guy you could play games with
But I'm an ophidian
Look closely in my closet, skeletons covered with shredded skin.
Crimson looks awful on me
Some resist emancipating souls from their ignorant homes, young as they may be
Teaching them that life is precious and fickle and not to be wasted
But I'm a murderer
The streets remembered my legend: Jack with a frosty skeng(blade).
Van Gogh, forgive me
Painting you mental pictures too graphic, put a ban on it
Now, I am more of a Renaissance rebel, art should not exist
But I am an artist
You've never seen me work with black and red, quite enchanting.
Call me a bishop
I hide in my castle, play pretend as a knight and out comes a pawn; me.
Lining up chaos and presuming that there's order to this shit
But I'm a grandmaster
Here's a final lesson from the king; make no moves, make no mistakes.
These are ten things you should know about us.
We are mighty good at it, but there will be another one, one for the adults.
Do with this information as you please.
Goodnight, lads and loves.
©ghoulfrost
#10thingsImgoodat
I am, perhaps, starting this trend#10thingsyoushouldknowaboutme
@fireblast_ you inspired it. Welcome back, Miss.
I'm not sure you'd even remember me.
That's okay.
Ghouls, after all, are not ones to recall, or remain.
Ghosts never require fame.
BMT, eh, if any one would prefer that I just do the #10thingsImgoodat trend in the same pattern Miss Fireblast created it in, do indicate, and I shall proceed to do so almost immediately I read their comment(s)/observations.I write in blurred lines,
The empty white is like a controlled flame
I treat everything like bloody arson's lullabies
But I am a cryomaniac,
So I have the cold seep in, hypothermia in the vein.
©ghoulfrost -
the_moon_door
170w
Cuz, I'm not good with words.
At times our hearts get heavy, souls become messy and minds end up reckless. In one of those days, when you cried with a heavy heart, a part of me ached at the thought of you being so close yet so untouchable.
I don't wish to foresee you but I wish to discover the divine perfection that you nod your head with. I want to celebrate your existence every single time I hear you laughing. In the core of my heart, my elation for you knows no limits and in fact I don't want to evaluate it either.
But can I put in words how much I miss you? No!
No long drives and no daily meetings either. I know not how it feels to sandwich your hand into mine. No hug saying good night but now I have turbulently started to hear your voice in my head when I read your texts. Looking at you breathes life into me and sometimes when you speak in those sharp whispers, I feel my heart twinge.
But can I put in words how much I miss you? Nah!
Even the late hours of the night, I long to be with you, craving you in so many ways. Maybe one of your heavenly sight would be nice or one of your magical laughter would help. You might wonder why I adore your giggles so much, but after all, people don't really fall for you for the reasons you want them to.
But can I put in words how much I miss you? Not at all!
You say you're scared to lose me but the truth is, in your bubbles, I learn how to calm down and in your giggles, how to make poems. You're an art that soothes me and I feel like none should read about you ever; for a masterpiece should be kept a secret, hidden from the world.
I am dwelling in your energy and you're dancing inside my chest where none sees you. I hope, time is the only distance left between us.
But can I put in words how much I miss you? Never!
For dear, I am not really good with words.
©the_moon_door
