I would like many books, some flowers, few stars, couple of stories and lots of poetries ��

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  • verbose 57w

    How stories never leave us ?!

    1) Stories of remembrance, words of wisdom. They tell you stories of void in nothingness, reminiscences of past.

    2) Stories told when you're alive, stories being told when you're dead. Stories of flowers on your death bed, stories of your albums when you're gone.

    3) Stories being told and stories being lost, stories that weave themselves, stories that hide between lines. Stories that end with a full stop and stories that don't end but take new turns. Stories that are dead in the petals between your diary.

    4) Stories of stars that are burning from years and giving hopes when dying, stories of life in cursive then to calligraphy. Stories of origami folds holding stories. Stories of rubik's cube holding the elementary days.

    5) Stories of being a speckle of everyone else's vibrant spectrum. Stories of decorating scars, stories of sandy footprints of fantasies. Stories of promises, stories of their denials.

    6) Stories are everywhere on the edge, in the middle. You carry stories on wrist under your watch. You carry stories in the folds of your sleeves. Just how you dust off stories while removing the creases of your shirt.

    -Richa ��

    Ps: Saying sorry for being inactive from the corner.

    Thank you so much for your concerns y'all ��

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  • verbose 67w

    Life ... is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing - Shakespeare ��


    #writersnetwork #mirakee #pod @writersnetwork @mirakee

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  • verbose 72w

    I'll reply to all tags and comments soon. Keep inking ��
    #star #writersbay #writersnetwork #pod @writersnetwork @mirakee

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    If I had wings to fly I would go to the crescent moon on the wings of the diamond night, I shall never be a star, but a small candle with a flickering light burning in the night with the little words I write.


  • verbose 79w

    15.07.2020 (These 7 sentences or lines are from my 7 different posts)
    #cees_rww_chall #writersnetwork #mirakee #pod #writersbay #wod @writersnetwork ! @carolyns_challenges thank you for this creative challenge ��

    **All rights reserved**

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    Albums and photos, we've still yet to see.
    Now all is quiet as silence is still. For this impatient wait, the day is done, the sun has set. Playing hide and seek with twinkling stars, tinkling between heart and eyes. We slip back into the familiar grooves. For a life lived in colour, a sightless end feels a betrayal. For the little bit of light we let in, we equally block ourselves from breaking out.


  • verbose 80w

    I dream of places I've never been to. Of wonders I've never seen before, of people I've never met, of destinations I've been dreaming since ages to reach, of views from the tall buildings of crowded streets and neverending roads. I've been dreaming of learning cosmic mysteries, of stars and moon.

    I've been dreaming of creating forever memories in this little infinity, collecting and dancing over small happiness I've been dreaming of becoming a star so bright with full of light. I've been dreaming of things that resonate with my core, flawed but worthy, of endless possibilities of celebrating myself over time each day, every day.

    I dream of lying between tainted pages of old novels to feel the emotions of hundreds who once touched it and found their home in it. I dream of reading unpopular fictions, some classics and lots of vintage poems. I dream of touching every art with the same purity as that artist's pureness of creating it.

    I dream of making myself as the last person that should matter to myself the most and keep shining in who I am. I've been dreaming of bringing the change, reading all good books out there, being unapologetically me, tracing my fingers over all masterpieces created during times. I've been dreaming to live some memories forever. I've been dreaming of little infinities in this infinite world.

    (And the list continues but here I stop)

    PS: Hello Mirakeeans, you can take "I've been dreaming" as a prompt and create your writeups. Let us share our little infinities in words. One liners or to any number of lines, you can write. And don't forget to tag me !!
    I'll check out the submissions till Monday night.

    #writersnetwork #pod #mirakee #ceesreposts @writersnetwork @mirakee

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    I've been dreaming !


  • verbose 80w


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    You are a Constellation probably on his way towards the glory of stardust. The fact that the light you see and adore, is probably a star that’s about to die and you'll no longer to wish upon again. The only stars that remain, are the stars in your eyes.


  • verbose 82w

    You stare at unknown shadows and observe patterns on the floor, somehow claiming to be in love with people's eyes. You make yourself comfort in shadows of the known and long to touch the new and unknown.

    While portraying your character as an artist I think you weave words inside your head. You write, you live and you fly, just that it's all in your head. And soon enough when you'll get perfect gist you slowly slip your head on to the canvas or on to a paper or to somewhere which is unknown to you, to me, and to us.

    You might be talking in or to stars wondering about dark secrets of night which she holds within her tenebrous folds. You're afraid that someday you'll be left to flip through pages, blazing through the silence of the night acoustic in air.

    You believe that your words, your action, your thoughts will burst into a cascade of a thousand petals. You believe stories are everywhere and nowhere, inside and outside all around about. You believe for everything that occurs in life finds a place in poetic compositions or in any other form of masterpiece. You know that you were never meant to be held in some captivating words, the mere stanzas and verses, you are the whole of story. You know that it's never too early or late to meet the real you.

    24.06.2020 #titlec #writersnetwork #mirakee #pod #wod @writersnetwork @writersbay @mirakee

    PS: a small attempt for today's challenge by @writersbay from the last novel I read "A portrait of the Artist as a Young Man". I hope it do justice with the prompt.

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    A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man,

    Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.

    -James Joyce, A portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

  • verbose 82w

    Dear Mirakee,

    Your song so sweet to my ears,
    My guardian angel forever dear,
    I read you on faces unseen,
    Hear you.

    When the sky is turning blue and we are centuries apart
    Let me kneel in front of you.
    Where people are writing syllables we cannot imagine, syllables we can only feel and endure.

    Yet no matter what, as immortal souls and mortal beings, we tend to have ties towards other souls, pull towards people, a sense of belonging and collectiveness; and as long as that exists, the line between fictional poetry and the reality of the regular will continue to be blurred, and the boundary perpetually crossed, and every relationship, every knowing will walk as much in reality, as it dance in poetry and fiction.

    Here I'm,
    book marking sands of good times,
    Scenting every metaphors with life,
    Inking the words to merge this journey into cosmic stillness, I'm on course like the stars, falling and sparkling and making my way through the darkness before I fall to dust.

    Yours truly,
    A girl who has found happiness in you.

    22.06.2020 @writersnetwork #happy #writersnetwork #pod #wod @mirakee

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    M I R A K E E

    //Collecting happiness and smiles//

  • verbose 83w

    Thank you @writersnetwork for the kind repost !

    Daylight never offers her the kalon soothing roughness of pillow fights with night or the silk that only moonlight knows. She curls her lips like romancing with her poetry with silence dancing on her bosom, sneezing and holding time. She knows that surreal romance, clicking noises of seizures and tears, of ink and words.

    Like Greek philosophers, she's also believing that expression of kalon may be in writing verses after verses, words after words, beautiful yet incomplete expressing the same old thoughts again and again, with the same old heart.

    Sometimes, she falls in love with trays of colors, a texture, an old faded wall, a rusted old page of a diary, a temple because they speak a language that tells her about spiral existence, tells her the omen of things to come, of kalon of pure art.

    She dreams in colors that drive away the blues. She wants to swivel in the freedom of the wind, her fragrance spreads gently with a breeze. She's the lover of words. She's the museum of shifted identities, a galaxy of romanticized dreams and passion.

    Kalon; for her defines the eyes that see beauty in everything, with a heart that expands with visions to write and read and explore, to live peacefully in oneness.

    Kalon; for her is where daisies sing like little birds, where life doesn't stop at one or few windows: it does takes a lot of courage to realise this and much more courage to lose few things.

    Kalon in dreams at night, her soul flies light
    Across the sky, across the ocean.
    What does it take to keep awake for hopes to soar,
    For dreams to roar?!

    Just a moment of eternal courage and eyes to see the moral beauty not over the skin or below it but the one which reflects one's heart on sleeves and stars in eyes and stardust in character which leaves starry nightlight wherever it goes.


    PS: This post is combination of my old posts.
    #kalonc @writersbay @writersnetwork #writersnetwork @mirakee @raika

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    K A L O N

    Kalon: the ideal of physical and moral beauty.

  • verbose 84w

    Snippets of opera pieces around the shadow of a fire,
    A cluster of vague memories and a bundle of insightful thoughts,
    Shadows shade what most aren't aware of, is the protector, the keeper and seeker of all secrets.