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  • daffodilpearlzz 20h

    ~SAFFRON BLOOMS~

    How shall I fill the space, you left vacant in my life? It has the shades of saffron. Are your colors still adorable? Like it had coruscated on that serene moon-lit night. Are those shades still bright? Like it had been amid chaos. Mine ain't. Your space got filled with flies as colorful as your shades and what not? I'm still frightened of them. Frightened of butterflies and why? It still is a mystery.

    All written rights reserved ©daffodilpearlzz
    Image credits to the rightful owner
    16.01.2021 Saturday

    @writersbay #mysteryc @writersnetwork

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  • daffodilpearlzz 1d

    ~Dew Drops~

    For an immaculate angel lying
    on the laps of her mother, nature,
    here is a lullaby from the sunshine,
    to wake you up to the sanguine morn.

    #dewdrops @writersnetwork
    15 Jan 2021

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  • daffodilpearlzz 3d

    ~The Calligraphy of my Epiphany~
    There are five parts. This is the last one. #daffz
    @writersnetwork @mirakee

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    The Calligraphy of my Epiphany
    ~Withered hopes~


    It felt like an adventurous ride, to go through all this, which in real was nothing. The dreams within my letters and diaries, the solitude and thoughts that followed and finally being at the fagend of all, I live with passion fired by wilt hopes. How contradictory! What not, I am more than in a state of delight now. Atleast, I could go through some good lessons amid these.

    Usually when schools reopen in june, the aroma of fresh books and new uniform will deliquesce with the petrichor of earth and believe me, this is the best way to start afresh. I did feel little hopeful, when the schools didn't open this june, that this unique diffusion will not soon take place. And it was wondrous, when the schools opened in january and monsoon came in winter. Yes! Last week, schools reopened here and when the raindrops drizzled on earth, I did wonder, because it is the season of winds here - the winter. I learnt that even nature changes her rules and for all the hopes that are withered, she will keep 'em aside and wait for that hopeful day to come. How enchanting!

    I wish I had been her, or why not be the mirror which reflects her easiness? Some withered and some untitled hopes live in my past. And from now on, I would only wish to keep them all for future. Although withered, they were all hopes. They drove me till now, they will, till future. Like mother nature, I find it good to change decisions now. To feel good and bad. May be this was just a phase of life, with all downs balancing with all my ups. And now its over and I won't cease being who I was. At the end of all these struggles, I could feel the epiphany of this realization that "Life has not ceased, it is moving. So keep hoping."

    And I do think that often, it is ok to grab something from the past or future to the present, afterall they belong to me. The calligraphy of these belongings seem more beautiful than the life itself.

    ©daffodilpearlzz
    Bhavya Raj
    14 Jan 2021

  • daffodilpearlzz 3d

    Odd,
    are pearls
    of crimson
    which adore my life.
    With melancholy of sanguine fragrance.

    ©daffodilpearlzz
    13_01_2020

    @writersnetwork Again ?!!! Thank you for the like ♡♡
    #tetractys @mirakee

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  • daffodilpearlzz 4d

    ~What did the sky fear about?~

    What if the sky was down here, beneath our foot and what if, the earth was up there, above our heads?

    For the first time when the clouds got stuck above the earth amidst their racing move, they caught my attention. Shy, yet captivating they seemed worried to go through each second, as I was keenly pondering upon their structure; glad they felt it. They tried so good not to let their eyes meet mine and maybe each moment passed like an hour for 'em. Well, it didn't bother me. That was when I started this whole journey of finding out what
    the sky was frightened of and I realized that it is the same reason why you don't bother to fulfill your dreams, infact, you fear.

    ©daffodilpearlzz || Bhavya Raj
    12 Jan 2021
    #question #skyfearc @mirakee @writersbay

    @writersnetwork Again, you liked my post♡Wow!! Thank you for the immense support.

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  • daffodilpearlzz 5d

    വീണപൂവ് – Veenapoovu (English: Fallen flower) is a 1907 Malayalam poem written by Kumaranasan. The poem is considered the beginning of a new era in Malayalam literature, and is one of Asan's most significant works. Legends say, that the poet saw a fallen flower on his way while walking and wrote this philosophical poem. Various translations and other artistic representations of the poem have been produced, and its centennial was celebrated in Kerala. Composed of forty-one stanzas, the poem is a philosophical treatment of death by looking at the life cycle of a flower.
    –Source: Wikipedia

    Her is a poem from the point of view of the fallen flower, about whom Asan wrote his poem.

    Contest #POV_poem_contest hosted by @sans_brones
    @writersnetwork Thank you for the like ♡ Much precious to me XD
    @raghavendran

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    A Eulogy from the "Fallen Flower"

    In his poem titled "വീണപൂവ്" (Fallen Flower), Kumaranasan describes the mortal life of a human being metaphorically when he describes the stages through which a fallen flower has gone through. He describes how it took birth, and opened its petals with hope to the sunshine. The tender leaves and the stem took care of it and the breeze gently touched its petals caressing the new born. It was on the topmost branch or say it was raising its petals aloft all others on to the air with pride. It was bright and caught attention of the viewers. But later it became old and dried. It was no more colourful. It was no more fragrant or charming. It appeared dull and no one noticed it. Finally one day, it fell off the tree and people were stepping their foots on top of it. Here, in my poem, I have written what the flower would have to say to the poet who wrote about it. A poem from the point of view of the fallen flower and its eulogy to the talented legendary poet.

    I floresced not on that tree, but in your poesy.
    You adored me in your metaphors, with tranquility.
    Coruscated alike diamonds I, withered like brown too.
    All amidst the splendiferous words you inked.

    I smelled like the fragrance of the moon-lit night,
    when you eulogized me as the flora aloft the tree.
    I sailed in the ocean of ecstasy in the boat of life,
    when you admired the beauty of my youth.

    I recognized the reality between life and death
    when you described my age with your sword.
    I regrettably turned back to the past of my life,
    and found how mortal and short life is: like a bubble.

    I'm no more a flower; but your poetry
    for I live as the poem you inked with wisdom.
    I'm no more fallen; for I'm alive betwixt the pages
    of your book and at the tip of your pen.

    I smell like that ink
    I taste like your paper
    I feel like I'm alive

    because,
    you're the poet
    and I became your poetry.

    ©daffodilpearlzz // Bhavya
    11 Jan 2021

  • daffodilpearlzz 5d

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #perfection #wod
    Image : Condé Nast Traveller Magazine, Pinterest

    étoiles : stars

    ~Immaculate Perfections~

    For once just cogitate upon the étoiles on the sky,
    Or down on earth at the leaves that bid adieu.
    Where hath perfection been in 'em? Never lie.
    Albeit, not perfect, glorious alike morning dew.

    Stop being the sooty grey of your own painting.
    To fill the white with a bit of darkness
    or to to add to black, a bit of lighting.
    In real ain't you addin', it's wilt and not beauteous.

    Perfection is your route to desolation.
    Whilst, assuming it to be in completion.
    Like a fairytale, will be there be no drama.
    Nor any to make you win over this trauma.

    ©daffodilpearlzz || Bhavya Raj || 11.01.2021

    Often we get so much obsessed with perfections, that even the millionth reason for our dismay may be the same.
    ~•~•~•~•~•~
    Aaarggghhh !!!! WN liked and reposted this post ♡♡ Thank you and so sweet of you ♡ 6th one��

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  • daffodilpearlzz 1w

    ~The Calligraphy of my Epiphany~
    There are five parts. This is part 4. #daffz
    @writersnetwork You liked my post. Thank you so much dear����❤����

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    The Calligraphy of my Epiphany
    ~Bald thoughts~


    Whatever I call thoughts are the most relentful beings I've met on earth, whilst being the most soulful one too. They totally accompanied me throughout those lonely hours and ate bit by bit of what was left, turning the cold within, to a more frozen one. Well, what not, for a poet or any writer on earth, the best friend has invariably been his or her thoughts which for sure smells like solitude. It was fragrant yet toxic and allergic, because I was always a poor admirer of perfumes and it didn't matter at all, about whether they were flavoured with solitude or harmony.

    Meanwhile, I don't really understand how a system made up of dislikes and non-faves work with an appreciable level of efficacy in today's world. Atleast, for others, who constantly interfere senselessly in what I do and think, it seems functional. But to be honest, it wasn't that much of a better way of living a life for me, notable on the other side none of the ways have seemed functional for me ever since birth. Whatsoever I'm little convinced that a life of dislikes make sense.

    Obviously, thoughts creep and crawl into every part of my life. And I'm fed up of this. That moment, when my painting brush broke into two, I was awestruck and thoughts crept there too. While putting those broken pieces back, I fell in love with the cellotape as it sticked perfectly with the broken brush pieces. A million thoughts had passed my mind within those few minutes, which made sense, like that part of air which we see with naked eyes. Wholly, they were seemingly trying to pull more hair from a bald head. And some were trying to induce hair growth on the same. Albeit, antagonistic, 'twas not the head that was bald, those were thoughts themselves and gladly, neither did they know, nor did I tell 'em.

    ©daffodilpearlzz
    Bhavya Raj
    10 Jan 2021

  • daffodilpearlzz 1w

    @mirakee @writersbay
    #picturec #four

    Ohhh myyy thank u @writersnetwork for the like ���������� I am so happy today��������

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  • daffodilpearlzz 1w

    ~The Calligraphy of my Epiphany~
    There are five parts. This is part 3. #daffz

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    The Calligraphy of my Epiphany
    ~Cold Solitude~


    Life can sometimes be the lavender blue wildflowers, elegant than the most enchanting floral bud on earth, but way too underrated and demotivated. Or some other times, it can acheieve a whorl of fame with no scope of success. I have tried every sip of the coffee in my mug of life and none seemed enticing or refreshing.

    Every dusk added more to this trauma that solitude created and what not, I missed every spark of all good and all bad I had. How wondrous! I didn't even know when I wrote the poignant pink letters with extra ordinary sympathy upon me and filled the pages of those dusty brown diaries with the enormous hallucinations of being in a state of momentary pleasure, that I'll miss 'em all this badly one day and it is the day that has come. I gently touched the tip of my fingers and they felt cold. I was sitting on the balcony and I pondered at its concrete floor which had the marks of all wear and tear it suffered for the past two decades. I sighed. Is that life is meant for? Have a feeling of furious hope against all the melancholy, then cease being in the state of dismay and finally nothin' appears meaningful, but only the solitude of every bit of life I lived?

    I am a poet and I live with everything. Every bit of euphoria and every drop of melancholy. I cross all the rivers with a fascinating ease that even the thunder and lightning would stare at me or the hurricane and the giant waves would get stuck at a point. No exaggeration. But when it comes to solitude, I can't believe it is a state between delight and melancholy, between triumph and disaster, between Shakepeare and Einstein (Wait... What have Shakespeare and Einstein got to do in here?)

    If there was one dream I had wished to do, I had wished to meet that one poet who symbolized solitude as a frozen state for the first time ever and ask him why? Because, if it wasn't for him to do that, I wouldn't have even recognized how freezingly cold solitude I have sometimes.

    ©daffodilpearlzz
    Bhavya Raj
    10 Jan 2021