A daughter of the stars and the moon. Professional daydreamer. മലയാളി. ✨✨

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  • artemiswrites 39m

    caress shores
    They paint the sands white
    Seashell homes they leave behind
    Grains of white sand they take back
    Sea gulls sing sad songs
    The blue sea

  • artemiswrites 1d

    Every twilight is a cosmic shroud that the Universe lays upon the grave of the sunlit sky.

  • artemiswrites 2d

    We live our lives
    wrapped up in the delusion
    that city lights
    and concrete horizons,
    come with a healthy share of joy...

    We are a generation of deluded people with sad eyes and sadder hearts,
    feeding lies to our souls.

  • artemiswrites 3d

    Greed is every human's Grim Reaper.

  • artemiswrites 4d

    I lurk in places where open windows
    let in the vast expanse of the blue sky,
    allowing it to colour my bleak walls.

    I lurk in kingdoms where Silence reigns,
    where I can detoxify myself of harsh voices
    that cling onto my fabric like lint.

    I lurk in rooms where there are shelves that carry numerous bottles of Solitude, allowing me to get completely drunk on this noun.

    I lurk in unmapped towns where lonely strangers carry stories like spare change in their pockets.

    I lurk in gardens where the starry sky fashions itself into a roof that locks dream filled hearts
    in an atmospheric embrace.

    I lurk in all the poems I write,
    I lurk in all the words I don't say,
    And I lurk in all the pieces of Art that slowly coax me into a state where I'm brave enough
    to let go of all the heavy anvils that I painstakingly forged,
    not knowing that they'd only weigh me down.

  • artemiswrites 5d

    There was something truly magical about this antique shop. I walked through the doors and couldn't believe my eyes.
    The first thing that caught my eye was a gramophone. It looked simple enough but what left me astounded was a display board next to it that said that the gramophone played songs that would take you to your past and would let you relive those memories again.
    Next, I saw an old vial with a label that claimed that it was filled to the brim with liquid confidence.
    My eyes travelled across all the shelves in the store; there were antique pendants that, when worn, would make everyone like you, there were balms that promised to heal even the deepest scars, and there were carpets that would take you to exotic destinations.
    I went to the shop keeper and when I asked him how much each of these items cost, He said, "The gramophone that lets you relive the past, costs a few moments of the present. The vial filled with liquid confidence costs one confrontation with something that you're scared of. The pendants that would make everyone like you costs one ounce of self acceptance and self love. The balms that would heal your scars come with a catch; every time you apply it, it will make you remember all the times you've hurt others and the carpets that take you to exotic destinations will also make you homesick. "
    The shopkeeper looked at me with a smile as realisation slowly sunk in.
    The gramophone and it's cost reminds us that for every grave of the past that we dig up, for every second that we spend yearning to relive the past, we miss precious moments of the present; moments that have the potential to change the future.
    The vial and its cost teaches us that confidence and facing your fears go hand in hand; with every fear we confront, our confidence grows.
    The pendants and their cost represent our foolish urge to make others like us, not realising that self love is the strongest love there is. We always strive to gain acceptance from others, when, sometimes, we don't even accept ourselves for who we are.
    The balms represent every human's tendency to fret over their scars, while conveniently forgetting all those times that they've hurt others.
    The carpets represent how home will always be the place where you truly belong, and the further you go away from it, no matter how beautiful the destination is, you'll always miss it.
    The antique store was magical; each antique piece that it housed, taught valuable life lessons; lessons that humanity seems to have forgotten and needs to remember.

    #antique #writersnetwork @writersnetwork@mirakee #mirakee#pod #wordoftheday
    @iammusaafiir @tomorrow_is_amazing @rajkri @wine_mirrors @dinfazil

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    There was something truly magical about this antique shop. I walked through the doors and couldn't believe my eyes.....
    There were gramophones that played songs that would take you to your past.
    There were vials filled with liquid confidence.
    There were pendants that would make everyone like you.
    There were balms that would heal the deepest scars and there were carpets that would take you to exotic destinations....
    But all of these antique pieces came with peculiar prices that had to be paid.

  • artemiswrites 1w

    Even the most sinister looking marshes
    house will-o-the-wisps.

  • artemiswrites 1w

    The Little Mermaid

    Hans Christian Anderson, in his well known fairytale "The Little Mermaid" wrote that mermaids become sea foam when they die.
    When I was young, whenever I went to the beach, where the waves would be crowned by snowy white sea foam, I used to pray for the souls of the dead mermaids.
    Now, whenever I go to the beach, I see man inflicted toxicity, I see oceans that send up barrels of chemically tainted sea foam, I grieve and I wonder how many mermaids have died, not realising that the Ocean itself has died.
    "The Little Mermaid" was a tragic tale of lost voices, lost loves, short lives and sea witches. I realised the significance of having a voice, the first time I read this fairy tale.
    Now when I look around me, I realise that we're all living within this fairy tale,albeit a reimagined version. We're all, in a way, portraying the role of the Little Mermaid, in a farce where the society expertly plays the role of a Sea Witch that steals the voices of anyone who dares to speak up.
    "The Little Mermaid" always made me sad, as a child.
    Now, as an adult who's stuck within this fairytale, I'm terrified.

  • artemiswrites 1w

    Summer, to me,
    means listening to
    Ghazals playing on
    the radio,
    while watching the
    Gulmohar tree
    lazily fanning the walls
    of the balcony.
    Summer, to me,
    means drinking
    ice cold sherbert,
    while revisiting
    childhood memories
    of reading Tinkle
    and playing with glass marbles.
    Summer, to me,
    means train rides,
    chai and hill stations,
    It is an undying love
    for glorious summer
    intermixed with a yearning
    for summer rains.
    Summer, to me,
    means vibrant colours;
    pink rose milk,
    mangoes, golden and green,
    yellow laburnum and fiery Gulmohar.

    #mirakee #writersnetwork @writersnetwork@mirakee #pod
    Image source : Pinterest

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    Summer, to me,
    means vibrant colours;
    pink rose milk,
    mangoes, golden
    and green,
    yellow laburnum
    and fiery red Gulmohar.

  • artemiswrites 1w

    When tempests put out the flames that I carried within me,
    leaving me cold,
    Writing helped me rekindle it....
    My poems were alphabetic infernos.