Mirakee
memories fuels soul
aisha_k
www.instagram.com/captivating_poetry/
crazy inkspiller putting impressions on hearts of others��
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wishes fulfilled: to the path of your heart
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wounded
as beckoning as hot sun setting at the shore
led me reckoning my breaths to gasps she adore
I stare at the hollowness of my stolen heart
where with her magical charms she played smart
swollen are now my eyes at the calvaries of our Love memories
she caresses the bullet at every proximity is a long kept secret
©aisha_k -
ecstasy
let me keep moving in the ecstasy
of this cruel world
undressing their cruelty until
nothing is left to fall down.
©aisha_k -
.
you dance barefoot on
the pavement of my
beating heart
lifting veils beat after beat
to the bass of my maddening soul
submerging deeper and deeper
just one glance made me
lose my balance
falling for your sobriety
in the heights of fogs
where our names are written
above the clouds
©aisha_k -
Why did you love me this deep?
where no one else's Love ever could seep
why were your Love this augmented?
that my heart and soul will always be lamented
Why were you this homecoming?
where in my eyes every soul felt
shortcoming
when I cried the Oceans
you aligned the waves of comfort
to my emotions
when in fear my soul shivered
you opened the gates of bravery
for me to livered
Why did my hollowness you complete?
that no other person can ever feat
so tell me
Why did you love me this deep?
where no one else's Love ever could seep
©aisha_k -
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.
©aisha_k -
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©aisha_k -
evoke the life in me through your soul to mine
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❤️
when you love me hard
let me hold onto your breath
as you breathe onto my soul
to keep going on
©aisha_k
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my_cup_of_poetry
13w
Read More~
I am a " f o l k l o r e " picking flowers of Gulmohar and stories from a hundred street corner where lovers separate in the name of religion and class. I press those stories and flowers smelling like goodbye in my diary for generations to imbibe because Heer and Ranjha were too young to sleep forever.
I am a " r e n a i s s a n c e p l a y " singing public rebellion against the rich monarch when the libraries of my town were set to fire suffocating history to death . I reverberate throughout civilisations that no Henry VI can reduce truth to ashes.
I am a " n o v e l " waking up with preface to remind everyone that like Oliver Twist you too can run off from a workhouse of captivity to London barefoot , to make everyone believe that you are only an imagination away from becoming a protagonist and then I fall asleep with epilogue making you smile like your hero.
I am a " w a r p o e t r y " being written inside a trench where the peers I shared my lunchbox with are dying without an elegy. I wake up every morning with sirens and fight until the sun sets. Thereafter I return home to sip red sweet wine and dream of castles and roses for me and all those soldiers who died before and after death.
~
Whenever I triumph over time I become " l i t e r a t u r e "
- Sakshi , of literature.
©my_cup_of_poetry
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Heer and Ranjha - characters of a popular tragic romance.
Henry VI - King of England during 15th century.
Oliver Twist - central character of the novel ' Oliver Twist ' by Charles Dickens..
-
ovais43
13w
No, I don't seek popularity
I only want to work for humanity
©ovais43 -
©the_dead_poetess
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nikithasharmabts_rare
16w
Read More#poetrywednesday @mirakee @writersnetwork
On a dark night,
With flickering street lights,
Clutching her bag very tight,
She walked on the roadside.
She walked with hue of fright,
Ignoring all those malevolent sights.
Soon, throng of evil wight,
Were walking on her right.
They tried to snatch her pride,
And laughed at looking at those eyes of helplessness with delight.
She cried hard, screamed aloud and blamed herself for getting in this plight,
But couldn't find even a single ray of humanity on that dark night.
They held those tightly combed hair and played with her pride,
They ripped her clothes, turning on their flash lights.
She bleed through her soul and her kyte,
Questioned her fate, what was her fault, that she got this breathtaking life?
Listening to the screams of a girl every night,
I question myself, can we even survive?
_ Nikitha SharmaListening to the screams of a girl every night,
I question myself can we even survive? -
ovais43
17w
Read More
Back with the fifth chapter of my poetic story. What makes this write-up so special?
1: Chapters
2: Rhyme
3: Eight syllables in each line
4: Poetic story
5: Chapters
6: Couplets
#poeticstory_by_ovi #poeticstory_1"Climax of the East"
©ovais43
Chapter No. 5
One day she said she need to share
Something happened wasn't truly fair
Her brother shouted and slapped her
yelling at her, she's a loser
For how long it had happened?
I felt so tensed and saddened.
tired of this father, brotherhood
It's been happening since childhood
while telling she started weeping
inside; her soul was creaking
inheritance of brownfield land
had been transferred from hand to hand
To treat a woman as low caste
Humanity too felt aghast
hugged her warmly, kissed her forehead
to make her feel alive nor dead
I tried comforting her my best
for her, it was an eerie quest -
cosines
18w
Every night,
I drink hell
and glasses turn in
dead deserts;
my drugged rhymes
curse my poetry,
and now they are
no longer alive even to be
addressed as
mirage.
©cosines -
ovais43
17w
Read More
So, finally, I am here with the most special work of my life ever. What makes this write-up so special?
1: Chapters
2: Rhyme
3: Eight syllables in each line
4: Poetic story
5: Chapters
6: Couplets
#poeticstory_by_ovi #poeticstory_1"Climax of the East"
©ovais43
Chapter No. 1
Walking down alone in the street
wearing ivory white suede fleet
A pair of jeans pants, and a T-Shirt
Timberland shoes covered in dirt
Meantime a girl wearing a skirt,
flip flop reflected her comfort
Her crop top with floral zig-zag
Holding a minaudiere clutch bag
Appeared across the road alone
Waved her hand, while eating a cone
Been wondering, who is this girl?
Looks like a gem, a precious pearl
Howbeit, I waved with pan am smile
finding attraction in her style
She smirked as she knew me before
Well her looks, I could not ignore
It continued for more few days
I felt she had been finding ways
To speak with me at any cost
She knew her acts not being lost
Chapter No. 2
Luckily or unluckily
exultantly cum grumpily
One pleasant day, on the roadside
Somewhere in corner of westside
We got smashed into each other
and kept staring one another
Hi! I spoke in my feeble voice
Her eyes reflected her rejoice
Hey! She responded tremblingly
Lowering her gaze quite shyly
Her voice had strange ataraxia
I felt I got echopraxia
My name is Emre Alton and yours?
Nice and I'm Zeynep Azores
(to be continued...) -
soulfulstirrings
18w
Read MoreTo every broken heart .
Stop pining .. had they been worth it .. they would have stayed .
No matter what .
Refer-
Sepulchre -tomb, grave, or burial place.
Daffodils - symbolize rebirth, renewal
Mistral - cold breeze
Perpetual - never ending
#aesthetec2 @odysseus @writerbay
Image credit to the rightful owner .You pine over someone ..
Who built you a sepulchre ,
With his words beguiling .
Burying you with the lure of daffodils ,
Swaying on the boulevard of a heart truant .
/Turn away from that december mistral darling ,
That left a perpetual winter at your doorstep/
©soulfulstirrings -
Serenity
©ovais43
A pure and delicate soul
carrying fragile dreams
In her heart and mind
Every day she redeems
Modesty is her clown
She wears it with dignity
If brilliancy is her trait
Humbleness is her entity
A pure and delicate soul
carrying fragile dreams
In her heart and mind
Every day she redeems
I wish to see her smile
Everyday not for a while
