Mirakee
Its not always easy to be with people who love you differently from your idea of love!
©discoveringself
8.12.2020
discoveringself
the quiet one with the loudest thoughts and a screaming mind..
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Always remember!
The world's perception of you
Is not your reality!
Know yourself!
Know your truth!
Shine with your own light!
Not as a reflection of other people's perception!
©discoveringself
6.12.2020 -
The bridge of November!
O' November!
You bridge Autumn
And winter together!
Beginning with the fall,
And ending in snow fall!
The harbinger of change!
Merging the multitude
Of myriad colours;
Through your prism,
Into the white of a snowflake!
Binding withering leaves
With the frosty trunks;
To lend a serene sheet
To a harlequin landscape!
Giving time to prepare
For the biting cold!
That's laced with the warmth
Of the forthcoming festivities!
Thank you for the breather, November!
For now the hearth is ready
For the arrival of frigid winds!
If only the heart could be also
Warned of any impending gelidity!
©discoveringself
30.11.2020 -
The world is merely
A refection of
what we perceive!
The truth is different!
Vividly different!
©discoveringself
21.11.2020 -
And the faded
pictures of that
album stored
the brightest
memories of
a lifetime!
©discoveringself
19.11.2020 -
Love at every sight?
I saw you turn your eyes away
when we crossed on the street;
I saw you pretend not to see me,
Although you had seen me!
I remember the way we gushed
About "love at first sight"
When we were together!
How I wish to rewrite the
phrase to "love at every sight!"
Perhaps the heart would
Not ache so much, for there
would be hope to renew,
Or a choice to refuse!
©discoveringself
18.11.2020 -
Awaiting serendipity!
Perhaps everything will fall in place;
Suddenly!
Like the rush of waters,
From the mountains,
Onto the bare arid fields!
Or the serendipitous emergence,
Of hot water springs;
Amidst the brumous,
Of cold wintery mornings!
Or the swift appearance
of an epiphany while
meditating on nothing!
Until then,
Keep discovering your own self,
Know that you are not your past!
Realise that you are not your mistakes!
Understand that you are not your bad choices!
You are yourself, you in the now!
The evolved wiser version of you;
That revels in its scars,
And knows its truth!
What it can and cannot do!
That believes the thorns of its
personality are meant to protect!
And keeps faith that even in,
the dry barren desert of its life;
It can bloom!
It can bloom!
Like a rose, on the cactii!
©discoveringself
17.11.2020 -
The loneliest moment in anyone's life is when despite surrounded by people, you want to pour your heart out, but you cannot, for the trust has evaporated and living together is only an eye wash!
©discoveringself
15.11.2020 -
If I were rain!
If I were rain,
I would ask the winds,
To carry me over
The verdant meadows;
And the gleeful forests;
Onto the arid lands
That look forward to
Me, my arrival!
Where I am welcomed,
To the drum roll of thunder;
And a swirl of the dusts;
Where every drop of me,
Is devoured with the fervour
Of an ardent devotee;
Worshipping its favourite Gods!
Where I would assume
The status of an elixir,
Bringing life to the dreary,
Quenching parched throats;
Impregnating barren soils
With seeds of joy and hope!
Oh! How I would urge the winds,
To blow me over to those lands,
Where I am truly desired!
Where I am truly wanted!
Where every drop is cherished,
Never taken for granted!
©discoveringself
10.11.2020 -
discoveringself
10w
Sometimes the broken
heart is so fragile,
It feels like the
entire being, would
crumble to dust, with one
gentle gust of wind!
Oh! What a relief
That would be!
©discoveringself
10.11.2020
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poeticgirl
1d
Read More#foodconnection #wod :( #megwn
3rd pod. Wow
@mirakee and @writersnetwork honoured ♡Womanhood
Women, my amma says
Are supposed to remember
The algorithm for deliciousness
The art of broths
My amma at 17,
Traded books for a spatula
And yet, I don't know if it's her regret talking
Amma mastered making perfect circles
Of wheat doughs
When I , can't even get my incircles right.
'A woman's age', my amma says
'Is counted by burns on her wrists,
And scars on her back'
And not freckles? I ask
'Oh that's a big no.'
Ma, I saw her making payasam
For the courtier
My elder sister was seeing
'A woman', she said
'Should know the art of pleasing,
pseudo masculinity'
And her self-respect ?
'Doesn't exist',she whispers
Di, I saw her dressed
Draped in 24 yards of womanhood
Because a girl should be holy under the fabric
And blinding veils
And rice and dal
Fish and stews
And books and notes?
'Doesn't matter'
Pa, sits beside
'What's womanhood beyond
Curry and stews'
'It's a girl, who loves skies
Or someone
Who doesn't gets her incircles right
Someone who stands up'
So the dal and rice?
'The dal and rice,
Are a part of life'
'But womanhood is all YOU'
©poeticgirl -
smily_aina
5w
Read MoreNow I can finally relate to what it feels like being struck by the writer's block (-_-)
#desirec
#whatsthatnowIt was raining - regrets drenching me in epiphany of the fleeting bliss, scraping the remains of my soul.
I knew the downfall was inevitable, but my heart was still not prepared for this.
Your presence has been the only thing I ever desired, but you never know; The one thing I longed for was the very cause of my own destruction.
"Desire" - what's that now?
©smily_aina -
smily_aina
5w
Read More
Affirmations don't work on me anymore;
'Cause all it has, are sighs and lies.
©smily_aina
#whatsthatnowI had no idea I was walking on scattered pieces of broken hope. They were shiny, enchanting, captivating. Just a look at them and you get sucked in their allure.
They gently seep inside me, piercing through my defense. Capturing me
tying me in strings -
a marionette in making.
I struggle to free away from it's clutches, but all in vain. At each rebuff, like a quicksand, the failure slowly starts consuming me - inch by inch - as I start to perish away from existence.
"Freedom" - what's that now?
©smily_aina -
colourfulgreys
3w
Read MoreSKIN
It’s since childhood that I have been seeing creams (which people buy like mad) that makes girls fair so that it leads to loveliness (Hello “Fair and Lovely”!). Because obviously, for Indians, dark skin is not lovely.
I was once called “wheatish” by a professor in college. That was the first time I had heard that adjective for myself. I thought fair and dark were the terms for skin tones. Now there was wheatish. I was seen by my darker friends with some palpable envy. And I saw some smirk on the faces of the fairer girls. So there I was, somewhere in the middle of the newly discovered beauty scales.
I also remember how angry/ hurt/insulted I felt for not being considered fair by the professor. Even though I did not place importance to fairness, but now I realized I subconsciously did.
My dearest friend used to say, as a small wide eyed girl, when we were in fourth standard, that I was so beautiful, and by beautiful she meant that I was fairer than her. She told me how her mother used to apply “ubtan”, which is a homemade turmeric pack or something, to clear her skin. I had innocently asked her, “Your skin is already so clean, why clean it more”?”
By that time I had not realised that fairness is seen as pure and darker skins are meant to be cleaned, made to glow.
Thanks to “Black Lives Matter” movement, light has been shown to the discrimination girls face simply for their skin tones. Here in India too. But still the creams are being sold. Not as “Fair and Lovely” which is explicitly rude and demeaning to Indian women, but as “Glow and Lovely”.
And it is still demeaning. Why can’t we live as our normal selves, why do I need to be Fair/Glowing to feel confident. Or for me to become an air hostess, a model, an actress and even a news anchor? And primarily to be married?
All our self-worth is accumulated on our looks. If a girl by chance is fair, then we start scrutinizing her figure, and start fat shaming or preaching her to clean her body hair, or start smiling more.
(For example, I am so criticized for my acne filled skin and for cutting my hair short, and of course for my fat!)
Basically Indian society is stuck on the narrative of girls existing only for pleasing other people’s eyes. Not as individuals, with a mind and sense of humor but with a sense of inferiority about looks.
I look up to Deepika Padukone, Mayawati, Phoolan Devi, Nandita Das, Konkona Sensharma, Smita Patil, Beyonce, Maya Angelo, Michelle Obama, P V Sindhu. These are tremendous forces of nature known by their work, not their skin tones.
//It describes them, but does not define them.//
Let’s celebrate our bodies, skins and education and fitness.
Girls, we cannot expect society to change overnight nor the boys to start loving us as dark and fat.
It is on US GIRLS to start appreciating ourselves and our sisters irrespective of looks. And start loving our skin without the use of fairness and skin brightening creams.
“Your skin is not only brown
It shines and it tells your story” ~ Beyonce
© Harfkaar 29-12-2020
For @adithir and @bertha_beryl who are angels scolding me to write ;) #selfmusingsofj
I read somewhere the lines in //.//
Edit: My second POD. Check the other one #pod_of_j
Deeply grateful and equally surprised.
My Ninth WN repost check others at #wnrepost_of_j
All thanks to my sisters and friends here!!.
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anetita
3w
Read More#poems #poetry #shelter #stillness #wod #pod #mirakee #writersnetwork
Thank you so much @writersnetwork and @mirakee for the repost! And to everyone for the comments! Very happy to spread love through writing! ��Be Still
Stillness is shelter in the chaos,
Tranquility in our frenzied minds,
Dying a thousand little deaths,
In the suspension of time.
Stillness is a meditative state,
Where life grinds to a halt.
In the absence of movement,
We find quietude of thought.
Stillness is serenity,
A "hush" from our hearts,
Providing mercy for our souls,
When our sanity falls apart.
©anetita -
say_me_krish
4w
Read MoreCouldn't have had a better third pod. Thank you so much for this overwhelming gift and surprise reposts @mirakee and @writersnetwork ❤️ (67, 12)
Krish adores you and will miss you both ��
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| A life without a facade |
My mother advised me
to have a bigger mouth
but to make some
ornate filigrees as my
borders so that
the population of my
conversation doesn't
drown due to overflow,
and anger accompanying
can make my words
dipped in sinister letters.
She said that people
judge by my parlances,
and I should neither
bring droughts nor floods.
-- L i m i t a t i o n s --
My father ordered me
to read about the
Statue of Liberty for
some motivations and
applications for straight
spines while walks,
but warned me to
transform my copper-parts
to layered and steady
stainless-steel crockeries.
He believes that rust
cannot have paints upon,
and a plate can relish
and make savour too.
-- T o u g h n e s s --
I said to both of them
that living alone can
still be a priority,
but wearing a facade
is not. Speaking is a
choice, talking an
option, and being
myself is an essence.
My postures are my own,
and being somebody
else kills my existence,
my breakage can
only happen when I give
a chance, and I do not.
I said change isn't
The law of nature, and
my jingle is "to evolve,
improve and amend"
-- (R) e v o l u t i o n --
They said I do not
understand the world,
I said they did not
understand what being
myself meant to me.
-- S e l f l o v e --
~S r i K r i s h n a P S | Dec 20, 2020
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The previous post is meant for farewell itself, so let's make this a nice and normal literary post :)
ALSO REFER:
ornate filigrees- a metaphor for fences
@writersbay #skp_writes #twosidesc #jinglec.
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artemiswrites
5w
Read More@writersnetwork #writersnetwork @mirakee #mirakee #pod
@writersnetwork Thank you so much for the repost :") ��A piece of me broke off and fell into a garden bed,
it grew into a tree with satin fragile flowers, tinged molten red,
it bore fruits that looked like crater covered beautiful moons,
its branches seemed like they would break away soon;
the tree looked like something the storm would have fun tearing into, with cruel mirth
but the storm doesn't know, that its roots are wed with the deepest soil chambers of the Earth.
The storm doesn't know that
The fragile branches tell a lie, that
their strength lies on the inside, and
the lunar moons are proof,
that scars and craters make a beautiful sight
and the flowers are only as fragile
as flame and spark of fire.
When I lost a piece of Me,
never did I dream,
that, out of that piece
would grow a poetic tree.
©artemiswrites -
fireblast_
5w
Read Moretimeless
this poem is very brave
like your mother's smile.
in which every apology
has a forgiver, and every
defeat has a survivor.
this poem is very brave
like that unnamed grief
you hid in unshed tears.
in which you could unlove
everything you've lost
and rewrite everything
that's not yours.
this poem is a tragedy;
a tomorrow you could've
lived yesterday.
@fireblast_
(Art and poetry).
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lovenotes_from_carolyn
5w
Read MoreHello everyone!! More than glad to see you! ��♀️��
REPERTOIRE
by Carolyn Glackin
She had a repertoire of sorrows
Stored somewhere in her mind
She preferred to leave it hidden
For the past was too unkind
Her compendium of chaos
Had her dancing on the brink
Of the point of no return
But on this thought, she dared not think
A menagerie of mayhem
Ran rampant in her soul
A wild and restless spirit
That this world could not control
A litany of laughter
Belied the lunacy within
An eccentric lass was she
Always full of shenanigans
A treasury of tears
Seen trailing down her cheeks
Conveyed all of the emotions
Her words could not bespeak
And a horcrux of hellfire
Was kept for a rainy day
For those rare but defining moments
When the devil stopped by to play
A velveteen drawer full of daydreams
She always kept full to the brim
She was known for her flights of fancy
That quite oft were set off by a whim
A panacea for all that ailed her
Was her proverbial Pandora's box
But she dare not open it now
So she waits 'til opportunity knocks
And the rest is as yet unwritten
But it's there on the pages of life
You can watch it unfold as she lives it
All the good and the bad, fraught with strife
As it all comes to pass, she's quite grateful
For the lessons, the joys, and the pains
For she knows when the story ends
'Tis only love that remains.
Copyright Carolyn Glackin 12/10/2020
Art credit: Susan Harrison-Tustain.
#mirakee #writersnetwork.
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miranah
6w
Nothing suffocates you more than pain that is not yours to carry.
It suffocates you, because it does not belong to you.
Neither the pain, nor the being.
©miranah
