Miraquill
I've learned that sometimes the toughest and most painful decisions are the right ones. They might not make you happy, might even rob you of your peace... but they'll leave you feeling lighter. Like a burden was removed from your shoulders. I've learned that loneliness is the price you pay to save your dignity, self esteem and integrity. I've learned that sitting alone in your room at night, crying yourself to sleep... is sometimes so much better than laughing in the company of people who you know do not support your dreams and growth. I've learned that I might or might not be able to fulfill all of my dreams... but I'll fight all my life, to preserve my right to dream.
©whitewings
whitewings
-
whitewings
21h
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न जाने चाय बनाते वक्त क्यों याद आते हो तुम। जबकि हमने साथ में न तो कभी चाय पी है, और न ही बनाई है। रोटियाँ बनाते वक्त तुम्हारा याद आना फिर भी समझ आता है। आखिर कितनी ही रातें परेशान हुई हूँ मैं, जब तुमने कहा कि दफ़तर से लौट कर तुम्हें ठंडी और सख्त रोटियाँ खानी पड़ी। हर बार ख्याल आता है, न जाने आज तुम्हें ताज़ी और नर्म रोटियाँ मिली होंगी या नहीं। मगर तभी अचानक तवे से, कभी कोई उँगली जल जाती है, तो कभी कोई रोटी। और न चाहते हुए भी, मुझे अपने ख्यालों की दुनिया से लौट कर, हकीकत में आना पड़ता है। हकीकत... जिसमें तुम मेरे नहीं हो। हकीकत... जिसमें हमारे बीच सिर्फ सड़कों की ही नहीं, दिलों की भी दूरियाँ हैं। जिसमें हमारे बीच गलतफ़हमियाँ, बंदिशें और न जाने कितने ही पहरे, कितनी ही सरहदें हैं। मैं आखिरी रोटी सेक कर, एक बार खिड़की से बाहर झाँकती हूँ, चाँद को तुम्हारा ख्याल रखने कह कर, चाय डालने के लिए कप निकालती हूँ।
©whitewings -
whitewings
4d
It seems to me at times, that creation filled women with all the motherly love, the power and responsibility to create and nurture... and left men hollow. There's an emptiness in a man's life without the nourishing love of a woman... or at least a touch of things that are feminine and gentle... like beauty, art, romance. In sheer helplessness and bewilderment, he goes on craving for and chasing whatever could fulfill this lack in him. He clings to one night stands, goes on penetrating one woman after another... even to the extent of stealing from her by coerced or forced physical intimacy. Resorting to violence and abuse against her because she has, what he lacks. A hollow man leaves a woman drained. He sucks at her soul. Instead of being the provider, the protector... he keeps feeding off her motherly love. And wanders off to another, when she's thoroughly depleted.
©whitewings -
whitewings
4d
It should've been hate. Not now... but years ago. Nonchalance did me no good. Forgiveness brought me peace but didn't stop it from happening again. And now that it did... all I have is my thoughts and my heart... sitting with me like old friends... trying their best to make sense, of whatever happened, back then... and now.
©whitewings -
How am I supposed to love you, when my heart no longer knows, how to trust. How should I convince myself to pick the little universe of silence that I've rebuilt after it was ransacked, ravaged and ruined... and place it in your palm. How should I ever sleep in peace in your arms, or lie next to you... with total surrender and trust. I've been awake all my life, guarding myself, my soul, my dreams. It is in my lonely that I feel safer than I do with you.
©whitewings -
whitewings
1w
Messy palettes are beautiful. Raw and vulnerable. No pretensions. Colors merging into each other, just how it is in nature. They tell the story of the artist, the journey of the brush... how it moved from one stroke to another. Messy palettes, like messy people... do not need rectification... but touch of love.
©whitewings -
whitewings
1w
I buried us in pieces.
There's no one grave
where I could go and sit and weep,
reminiscing the bygone times.
I buried a piece in every place
I had taken you to,
along with me...
even when you were miles away,
in some other city.
I buried pieces on roads and highways,
under trees
whose shade felt like your embrace.
I buried a piece on trains
and flights and in cabs,
where you had accompanied me.
I've scattered us in too many places.
And I did it on purpose...
so that never in my life,
even if I'd want to,
I'd be able to collect them all
and go back to being
the person I used to be.
©whitewings -
whitewings
1w
Waiting for him,
is a woman at home...
with a home cooked meal
and his favorite dessert for dinner.
She has changed the curtains,
to his favorite color.
The cushions too today,
are smiling from ear to ear.
She hums, she sings
as she takes multiple trips
from the kitchen to the dining table...
putting the cups and plates,
the flowers and candles,
everything in place.
And she waits,
hovering from the window to the door,
like she did yesterday...
and day before yesterday.
Like she has been doing,
for months now.
Anxiously looking at the clock,
petting the sleeping cat and dog.
By midnight tears begin to smudge
the kohl in her eyes.
Once again, it's one of those nights...
she'll sleep with questions puzzling her mind.
And hopefully by morning he will arrive...
tired, not from work...
but the effort it takes
to come up with
consistent and convincing lies.
©whitewings -
whitewings
2w
Forever is made of tears
that weren't used to extinguish
the flames of passion
but to nourish and nurture
the seed of love.
©whitewings -
whitewings
2w
For some strange reason, I never thought I'd live this long. And therefore I have no plans for the age I am currently in. Or the time that lies ahead. I wasn't supposed to be here until now. But I am... walking through the density around me, like a molecule of void.
©whitewings
-
pramodh
1w
I was a messy palette
and she is the brush
capable of turning me
into a masterpiece!!!
©Pramodh -
With the brilliance of rhyme and rhythm
filled in every word you write,
and touching thousands of hearts
with the way you express your feelings,
you have been weaving your stories
that somehow feels like
they are filled with our silken memories,
you have touched our hearts
and your words have snuggled
with all of the pain in it
to give some strength to
embrace the inner flaws
before finding perfection in the outside world.
Even when your hearts were being strung
you have showed us the path
towards positivity and normalcy
through your words.
But these days,
those words seems to be fading away
and without your words to
give us the necessary warmth
we feel like we are struggling
to survive the coldness of the world,
our fragmented hearts have been surfing
on the waves of numbed feelings
and they are falling into the repercussions
of the misplaced anger,
that is leading to nowhere
but the emptiness!!
©Pramodh -
pramodh
28w
If only we had someone
to listen to us blabber
like the world is ending
for we have silenced ourselves
from expressing the stories
our insecurities have snubbed
for the fear of being judged.
If only we had someone
who would look directly into our eyes
without making us uncomfortable
and who understands the unspoken words
that are lingering on the edge of those eyes,
who could cherish our hidden madness
and partner in on our unrealistic dreams
and be there for us
without getting scared
when they face the reality
of heartaches and heartbreaks
we have been hiding from the world.
If only we had someone
who could look beyond our masks
we wear to shield us
from being broken again
and who dares to comfort us
in our worst phase.
©Pramodh -
Amidst all this darkness, soul-wrenching pain, and disappointments, you have a heart that still believes in love, trust, and second chances. And that, my dear, is what makes you so beautiful.
- Akshay Vasu -
pediae
72w
Read More''Put your trust in the light while there is still time; then you will become children of the light.....”
@writersnetwork @mirakee #pediae #lightIt's not so much a worry
that Children
are afraid of the night;
of the dark,
when the light of day is gone
and the shadows combine,
they cower in fear,
but that you can understand.
what makes our foreheads
wrinkle in worry
is that our adults,
are more afraid of the light
they have ventured
far too long into the dark,
and embraced darkness,
that they are sorely afraid
of the revealing light of day
- Pediae -
It's the broken,
that knows the vulnerability of the whole!
©lord1krishna -
It was a home that changed its shape every time she tried to escape it. So that she would feel that she was in the new home, and she has escaped the old one already. But every time she opened the door of that home and stepped out, the grass under her feet felt the same. The color of the sky looked the same. The touch of that breeze on her skin felt the same too. Once, she turned around and looked at that home and asked herself why wasn't she able to feel any different after escaping so many homes, so many times? Was it about that home after all? Or was it about herself?
- Akshay Vasu -
Search for the things that you lost in the place that they were lost, not in the people who lost it.
- Akshay Vasu -
okayckay
58w
Read MoreLong time, no see!
I hope you guys are still here and writing
@whitewings @iamjass @krishnegaPoetry may not
affirm my trust
in tomorrows,
but it does
cajole me into
weathering
the storms
of todays.
© OKayCKay -
ayushsangwan 60w
and when a poem begins, it comes into form like a sweater, slowly as the ball of despair loses it wool. and when it is completed. people touch its fabric. they sense the warmth it carries. they feel as if it was made just for them. and they wear it to comfort themselves. someone else's pain becomes their remedy.
- ayush sangwan, when a poem begins
