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  • thunderclap 1w

    #love #wod
    Done with this place and people, and myself.

    "As much as it seems like you own my heart
    It's astronomy, we're two worlds apart"
    -Astronomy, Conan Gray

    @miraquill Thank you, for my nth pod, n= number of letters in name of the muse for this poem.
    and thank you some special people for making this poem feel special ♡
    @writersnetwork graciás ♡

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    Our legs are tired from
    running in circles and cycles,
    my wrists are bleeding,
    there are bruises over
    your arms;
    I read your same words
    Over and over,
    Until they impregnate into
    my veins: instead of blood,
    it's your existence
    binded into mine,
    A knot knitted with
    sweat and time,
    My untenable guards
    have now
    become a debris.

    Unattended layers of sky
    Fall apart from the hems
    Reflecting into oceans as teal
    A mocking pastiche bleeds
    Hues of randomness
    Love looks attractive,
    Only from a distance,
    And I'm wrong or unsure
    But only sure about
    A boy
    Seraphic eyes blinking with curiousity
    And eternal melancholy
    He smells like a honeysuckle,
    And I am a lone moth,
    He emnates incandescence,
    with lips synonymous to kindness;
    Like an ocean,
    Mostly he's gentle
    And sometimes engulfs me
    Rising and awashing me in
    Love, and love demands pain
    And pain demands to be felt.
    He's a garden,
    Of satire and simplicity,
    A frail sunset blossoming to
    candid polyptych,
    He opens like a preamble
    With a poem eulogizing
    wildflowers and ciders,
    His sartorial taste reflects
    Vintage polaroids and
    black and white films,
    His playlist reflects his soul
    His heart is a patchwork
    Of pastels and pretty pastiche
    He keeps love hidden in billets
    Until it's strewn over the skies
    Upon the clouds tainting
    It red,
    His body is seared with sword scars
    He's constantly in a battle
    With his mind and heart,
    Bickering silently,
    His voice is a brave whisper
    Of blowing dandelions
    And dancing blues,
    His palms are lined with
    Meticulous maps of unknown places,
    Places he has visited
    Only in his imagination
    Somedays he tells me,
    My poems on him are
    exaggeration, figments purely sketched
    From imagination,
    How do I tell him,
    It's only a fragment of truth:
    I cannot capture him in a mere poem,
    And his existence I cannot paint
    With limited hues,
    He's every beautiful thing,
    Fragile not like a flower
    But like a bomb.

    Thunderclap//If one day I cease to exist I hope I continue to live
    Inside you, and the poems I've etched for you

  • thunderclap 4w

    #start #wod
    @surefire for whom this account was made. ❤️

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    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

  • thunderclap 5w


    He dyes his hair
    In striking sunsets
    Some parts gaily chrome
    But mostly in a shade of melancholic blue;
    On his bones he has scribed revolutions
    And his pen is his sword
    That pierces through societal tapestry
    Painted in contradictions and hypocrisies

    He looks like the sun,
    and sometimes the rainbow
    Hiding behind cotton candy clouds,
    Blinding me when I stare long enough
    Burning into my heart
    But guiding me throughout my journey

    He smells like a punnet of strawberries
    Freshly riped and not yet plucked
    Intoxicating my soul, peeling layers of it
    Draping me with love

    He has hands that paints me
    In the most beautiful angle
    Redefining me into something I never knew I was
    Bringing the best out of me, I rise from my own ashes

    He has the voice
    Strong enough to melt your stone heart
    But soft and gentle enough to make you feel the luckiest girl in the universe and sing you to sleep

    His words have an aftereffect of an unquenchable loneliness,
    Stubbed cigarettes and mostly sweetness,
    He completes me, maybe in some other Universe, I do too.

  • thunderclap 6w

    War and Warrior

    You and I, a pair of misfits
    Devised of diametric disposition,
    Collide like a ball of chaos to drift
    Away like petals of impetuous fission

    My dragunov heart undergoes
    Flickering ripples in your vicinity;
    My romanichel soul now knows
    It has found and lost its only city

    You're a dancing wildflower
    A little shy, a little brave
    And a lot beautiful, and empowered
    Deep-seated withstanding strong waves

    Festooned with incandescent halos
    Bracketed within choices and decisions;
    You have a heart with printed rainbows
    Heartbeats of oceanic waves and galactic collisions

    Your hands baptize my skies with sunshine
    Inhabited by wrecking thunderclaps
    And echoing chirps of dwindling shine;
    You insinuate life, heal my burnt wings to flap

    I pull out snippets of your benignity,
    I'm a lot selfish you see—
    I tear apart hems of your sanguinity
    and fill your eyes with tears instead of setting you free

    You are fragile but not brittle
    Not now, nor ever,
    True sangfroid soul with little
    Unpredictability: a sanguine garden of words

    A finite shoreline, and an unending ocean,
    I purloin grains of sand to fill my fists with
    A wave of belongingness awashes
    With love and cliched unfounded grith

    Bricks of our home is falling down
    I overdo my scribbling silence into a blistering pyre
    Attending my own funeral wearing bridal gowns
    Visited by dead versions of mine

    So let me hold your tender palms, one last time;
    You deserve to fly high, smile and live your life to the fullest;
    Let me whisper three syllables
    In your heart, for I have cut an infinity
    Into half, an act wholly unforgivable.

    ©7 Sept '21


    Writing after really long and probably for the last time for a long time.

    •insinuate: slide (oneself or a thing) slowly and smoothly into a particular place.
    •dragunov: a sniper rifle with a telescopic sight.
    •grith: peace, security

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    a choice
    two or more
    fabricates the idea
    of existence,
    and festers the root
    of other choices
    in your hands,
    and not.

    a word,
    three or less
    shapes the kinship
    with world,
    and limits the ocean
    of other words
    in your heart,
    and not.


  • thunderclap 14w

    To one of the most genuine people who wear their hearts on their sleeves @manasaa

    Happy Birthday Manasaa. I don't think there is an extra a in the end?! Or is there one?
    The bg is a reverse acrostic ��

    I love the person that you are. You're rare and precious and unique. I wish skies, hope and smiles in your way. ��

    Siddharth has exams till 12th July so he won't be available.
    Happy birthday from his side as well ��

    This one's for you(hope you like it)—

    With flaming wings of a whimsical unicorn, wearing a crown of benevolence, jasmines tied on hair loosely, an armlet of safflower; a halo of sunshine hovering above her head, she flies away into the land where unicorns exist and so does magic.

    Where the sky is a chandelier adorned with hanging ribbons of hope and candlelit dinners are celebrated with blabbering teacups and dancing spoons.

    Where fleeting auroras stop for a moment in their path to gape at her, a sunset with sunshine clenched in her little palms and nails painted with shades of lavender. She wears a marigold necklace gifted by winds and an anklet of a poem that clangs as she scampers to search for sunflower in a garden of roses.

    She’s a firefly and her father is out there somewhere in the welkin sometimes proud tears in his eyes twinkles as stars watching his daughter grow into the brave and beautiful lady who has always been a synonym for optimism and hope and kindness.

    As the dawn breaks in, she sails back into reality in an attempt to transform it into the magical land with her words.


    10 July '21

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    Mending nights into glittering froufrou
    Attaching subfusc stars into a pattern
    Nights illuminating a patchwork of graffiti
    And pastels scenting lemonade magic
    Sewed with sanguine syllabic tango
    Agape ribbons and scattered letter
    Abendrot sunsets turn into fiery amalgamation

  • thunderclap 20w

    Day 1— Sweet-heart

    To one of the bravest men I know
    (my little beautiful princess ��)
    Firstly I love you. I miss you. These three weeks were very tiring for me and time bounds me along with the boundaries of writer's block, plus maintaining other account so that I could say to writer's block, o writer's block kal aana.

    At first I was very sceptical about posting the birthday wish on Mirakee as I'd planned to never write anything on this platform but nevertheless after much pondering over, I decided I shall write for you, in the platform through which we could meet and know each other. I want to thank Mirakee and for the universe to conspiring for me being at the right place at the right time and with the right person.
    I'd never been a believer of love and have never felt it on a personal level until you.

    You, my words fall short while describing you because you are an emotion. You're all the beautiful things my eyes could set on, all the tepid emotions of love I can feel. I had the honor and privilege to see you grow into this ravishing, vintage wildflower from the seeds of coy misfit and the confidence you've gained through these months is incredible.

    Does it feel like one year has passed since your last birthday: to me it just feels like I've just time travelled from 2020. But somehow the memories we've made together tells otherwise. Thinking about the past months and your now non-existent starstruck for sangfroid personality, I behaved very bluntly with you. If only I could go back to those days when it felt like we had little time but in truth we had all the time of the world and I wish I could re-spend them without the fear of them or you losing away from my fist. All those long posts, one liners and everything is now in dust and I know it hurts you more than you show, me killing sangfroid soul felt like I stabbed a knife in your heart. It was sangfroid who was hurting me and the unwanted fame that brought unwonted hate which I'd never experienced in my life of that intensity, now all the stalkers and haters can rest in piece and peace.
    I am sorry for deleting sangfroid, I genuinely am, because hers was the account that drawn you to me, but she was just a part of me I had temporarily made.

    Also rone ka sochna bhi mat mere itne saare posts dekh kar, smjhe? Kyunki aansu honge toh read kaise karoge.
    I wish I could record something in my voice. Right now I as I write to you, strong winds unexpectedly knocked open the windows of my room, and oh haan, it has started to rain, news mein pdha, delhi mein 3 din ke liye baarish hogi, I COULDN'T BE ANYMORE HAPPIER. it just feels like nature listens to me and understands me just the way you do.

    You, I don't know how to put down what I feel after being with you. It's a combination of combustible fragile heartbeats that soar high fluttering swiftly and searching for yours. You make me feel romantic and captivated even though you say you're boring. So hear it out, I LOVE YOU IRRESPECTIVE OF EVERY-FUCKING-SINGLE-THING.
    And I know we're too young and it's unrealistic to call ourselves soulmates, but, I really feel we are. When I feel pain, you do too, and when you feel happy, I do too. You and I feel emotions with the same intensity without having to explain what the other is feeling. Tbh this level of connection I've felt only with my brother and you do have the skill to take up any form, my chuhu ;_; my mom, my elder brother/sister, my younger brother/sister my soulmate, mentor, my best friend (forever) aur kya oh haan possessive overdramatic girlfriend and ofc understanding boyfriend... Toh par yes, point smjh gye hoge tum.

    You've seen it all, my all phases that there could be,(if something new doesn't take birth, hopefully) and you stayed. You stayed despite the storms and scorching heat, tsunami and droughts and strong winds. You stayed when I had thought you'd leave me, you stayed when you could have loved anyone else, someone better than me, someone with a stable mind and static personality. You stayed during my lows and highs. You stayed despite I told you to leave thrice. I don't know kis janam mein maine acha kaam kiya, but definitely not in this janam that I deserve you. And yes as much as possessive and selfish and clichèd this may sound "you're mine and I'm yours" but that's the truth. Thu thu nazar na lage kisi ki. You helped me become the best version of myself and I was reading my diary entries of initial time of 2020, 2019 and 2018 and I couldn't even comprehend the amount of sadness and helplessness I was going through in 2020 and 2019 and the zeal of i-am-and-i-will-bring-change which you've tried your best to help me retrieve. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you my angel. Thank you for staying by and accepting me the way I am. I don't have anything more to say. Maybe I do have but only my heart can speak and my hands can't.

    I love you.
    Happy Birthday, Siddharth.❤️

    Devika Aji
    (Your prince)


    Edit: //Feb 14, 2021//

    To my first valentine

    Dear Siddharth
    You're special, you know that right? In moments when my tongue fails to align with what I wish to express, only an I love you, is able to tell you. You're so much than you. There's so much of love. As I write this letter of love to you and the song you sang in the background, it's been a whole one year. Woah. One year. Can I imagine that. No. Can you imagine that. No. (XD) seemed like a nursery rhyme.
    You are an angel. An angel sent by an external entity just for me. You make me sane and safe wrapped in your short voice recordings. I only desire your smile and happiness and keep it intact stretched till eternity. You are this power packed gift and you're everything that I can ever ask for. Pdhayi mein bhi ache, awaaz bhi achi(BAHUT ACHI), guitar bhi baja dete ache se(har ladki ki fantasy), and love letters likhte. Etc etc.
    It's been one year of us, and it still feels like kuch maheene pehle tk toh hum Bhai behn ka natak kar rhe the(tum natak kar rhe the)
    You make my heart explode and defy all the things I've Guessed about you.
    I'm a hard person to deal with I know. And mostly an emotional mess and you try to entangle it so lovingly, like you were made to love me. You're perfect. You're my kind of perfect. I love you.

    I love your everything with my everything. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

    And I promise to never let the corner of your lips down and keep it tucked up with my hands.

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  • thunderclap 20w

    Day 2— Imagination and Illumination

    Since I'm running out of ideas I'll be sharing some points I read over in the past few days some quotes and poems and advice that I think is worthwhile cherishing �� for all people alike.

    Disclaimer: not written by me

    1. Your 20’s are your ‘selfish’ years. It’s a decade to immerse yourself in every single thing possible. Be selfish with your time, and all the aspects of you. Tinker with shit, travel, explore, love a lot, love a little, and never touch the ground.
    — Kyoko Escamilla

    2. Everything in life starts with your mindset first and your actions second. Your actions follow your thoughts, your beliefs and ideas.
    To make a shift, to free your energy: start with getting your mind right, and then, take action.

    3.Remove yourself from people who treat you like your time doesn't matter, like your feelings are worthless, or like your soul is replaceable.

    4. Align actions with intention (this is for me)

    5. "I was always attracted not by some quantifiable, external beauty, but by something deep down, something absolute. Just as some people have a secret love for rainstorms, earthquakes, or blackouts, I liked that certain undefinable something directed my way by members of the opposite sex. For want of a better word, call it magnetism. Like it or not, it’s a kind of power that snares people and reels them in."
    - Haruki Murakami, South of the Border

    6. "When I first met you I felt a kind of contradiction in you. You're seeking something, but at the same time running away for all you're worth." -Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

    7. "I clung to your hands so that something human might exist in the chaos.” - Hélène Cixous

    8. "When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it." – Paulo Coelho

    9. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” – Muhammad Ali

    10. Stop saying yes just because you feel guilty saying no.

    11. "We are all broken. That's how the light gets in." – Ernest Hemingway

    12. "What we think we become. What we feel we attract. What we imagine we create." — Adele Basheer

    13. Just always be the better person. And make your intentions pure. What and who you are is what you'll attract, what you'll maintain. Pain is inevitable and it will always exist, but if you focus on understanding what you are feeling and why you are feeling it, you will overcome it." — The Minds Journal

    14. "Patience is when you are supposed to be mad but you choose to understand."

    15. "It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace."
    Chuck Palahniuk, Diary

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    Synergy sunshine
    Slips into sweet sutble smiles
    Aureate heart chimes
    Collides and creak against mine
    We wrap our hands within time

  • thunderclap 20w

    Day 3— Dreams and Wonderwall

    You are whom I think of after listening to Arijit Singh's raabta, tum hi ho, agar tum saath ho, uska hi banana, tera chehra, and all his love songs

    Swirled within the mellifluous voice of Javed Ali's Saudebazi and

    loving voice of Armaan Malik's songs, ranging from Main Rahoon Ya Na Rahoon

    stuffed between the songs of Shreya Ghoshal's Bahara and Agar tum Mil jaao

    You swoon me like the ageless voice of Kishore Kumar, listening to Hume tumse pyaar Kitna, Pal Pal Dil ke Paas, Sagar Jaisi Ankhowali, and

    Lata Mangeshkar's Lag ja Gale, Ek pyaar ka nagma hai, Ajeeb Dastan hai ye, Aapki Nazaro ne smjha,

    the one I reminiscence about listening to Kahin Door Jab Din Dhal Jaaye and Kisi ki Muskurahat se, and

    Thinking about whom I drown after listening to Mohammad Rafi's drenched in love songs— Gulabi Ankhen Jo Teri Dekhi, and

    KK's Ajab si, pyar ke pal, Tu hi meri shab hai and

    Khuda bhi, Tum se hi, Tum ho of Mohit Chauhan and

    All songs of Anuv Jain

    And when I hear Ed Sheeran songs, Perfect, Thinking out loud and Photograph, it's you that pops up in my mind,
    Hearkening to songs like
    Christina Perri's A thousand years, Shawn Mendes Never be Alone, Like I'm gonna lose you by Meghan Trainor, Plain White T's Hey there Delilah, Can't help falling in love by Elvis Presley, La vie en Rose by Michael Bublé.


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  • thunderclap 20w

    Day 4— Dawdling Drizzles and Dainty Dandelions

    Daylight damascenes over dewy-eyed dandelions dancing to the tunes of bees drifting with the dusty dunes; daffodils dangle from the sky
    dainty little petals reaching to dazzling damsel of cloudland reclining against disheveled duvet of white distorted clouds, dauntless stitches unloosen rain-drops plop over my bestrew dreams

    My gaze falls over you, your eyes closed and lips curled into a smile
    You see— you're here yet you aren't
    You are with me, yet you aren't
    I'm alone but not lonely
    You're with me as I press my ears
    Over the window panes and close my eynes
    Listening to the pitter patter that sounds
    like you : nonchalant
    that exhumes my soul from the casket of my heart. The windows start sounding like your chest,
    the lub dub gradually increases
    and then becomes steady

    My fingers desiring to decipher the language
    Your skin and fingertips speaks
    The rain breaks into a simmering storm
    As I take the alphabet in my hands
    To refill my pen of poetry that fell in love
    With you before I did
    I take a carton of crayons borrowed from nature's beauty and
    Set out to delineate you
    starting with red, for your lips,
    pink for your cheeks,
    yellow for the flowers of your brooch,
    green for your vivacious hands,
    daisies for your skin,
    dark chocolates for your eyes,
    blues for the colour of your soul,
    black for your starry hair,
    orange for the wildflowers
    you keep at the back of your pocket,
    magenta for the little bag hanging from your shoulders.
    I realise even if I borrowed
    all the colours, the universe
    flowers, skies, rainbows
    It'd still end up dull and devoid of life,
    Because there's only one YOU
    and there could be only one YOU.


    P.S I legit feel like either the vocabulary is too much or it's not upto the mark or maybe I'm unable to encage the emotion within the walls of words or the soul is missing but it took me a very long time to even etch this. (。•́︿•̀。)

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  • thunderclap 20w

    Day 5— Holding haloes of his heart

    The corners of his lips are carved from clusters of galaxies of colours and bombardment of stars and poetry. He shines brilliantly like an array of full moon night's light. He and I are made of the same things stars are. My muse sings for the crushed flowers and their sacrifices. He strums for broken hearts and lovers alike, telling a saga of his bizzare life. He has a broom onto which he hops and flies over every nook of my heart and imaginations. He makes me castles of poems out of the remnants of a sour experience and beautiful aftertaste. He lends me his smiles frequently and summons monsoons to hover above my city. Days when he's genuinely happy, the sky paints the clouds and drape them in pleasing pink hues reflecting his subtle beam. When his eyes collide against mine, I witness a catastrophe of my insecurities and a rebirth of our love, in the form of phoenix from its ashes. I love him, would be but an understatement. He is mine would sound selfish but I love him and he's mine. Above his head hover the soothing haloes that refuses to define him, because he keeps oscillating between transcendent and temporal realms. He's a human, but far above than any other human I know. The love his heart irradiates a love that is selfless, patient, blooming, coy, brave, divine, unearthly, unreal, magical, passionate and kind. Seeing him, my heart feels pain and solace at the same time. For he's an angel desired by many, but he's only mine.



    My home resides with-
    in his loving eyes of fire
    shared with colliding
    heartwarming little wishes
    rambunctious, he's my secret


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