8667 posts
  • exclaimer 12h


    ये आसमान ये वातावरण जैसे तुम्हे मेरे पास ला रहे हो,
    बारिश की पहली बूंद जैसे तेरा ही स्पर्श हो,
    वो ठंडी हवा का झोंका जैसे तेरी ही खुशबू लाया हो,
    आसमान की तरफ देखू तो काले घने बादल जैसे तेरे ही बालो कि छांव हो,
    उसमे होने वाली बिजलियां जैसे तेरी आंखो की चमक हो,
    ये बारिश जैसे तुम्हे मेरे पास ला रही हो।


  • akshay_vasu 13h

    Every word I wrote, removed a little piece of the fence around me. Gradually I started seeing the blue sky, the red one, and the black one too. I began seeing the rainbows, and the stars too. I saw the rain, and the storms too. The way every bit of this made me feel alive, made me write more and more, until the day the fence around me disappeared and the ground under my feet too. I had wings to fly and the roots to stay. But sometimes, the fence still feels more familiar than the wings do.

    -  Akshay Vasu

  • mahima_sangwan 14h

    Your sensational eyes
    My sophisticated heart.
    You didn't stop them
    I was bound to fall!

  • curiouss_onee 16h

    Rain keeps pouring on my side
    Water runs cold as ice
    Still it cannot be mistaken
    With the tears in your eyes

    I see you staring back
    Thinking something has gone wrong
    I understand your confusion
    I feel your pain but I wish you were strong

    You keep trying to see through me
    See the light at the end of this darkness
    You cannot ignore me and my angst
    Take one look at me, I’m harmless

    I know it’s impossible to recognize me
    Through those glassy eyes unknown
    So just close them, look inside you
    Open them now. We are home.

    Do you see me now?
    It may seem the end of the world delayed
    But a new smile will appear tomorrow
    The rain will stop and your tears will fade

    Can you see me now?
    I’m just you, looking from the blurry outside
    Wishing we didn’t have to feel this way
    Wishing I’d see the storm perish inside.
    #rain #you #meh #mirakee #mirakeeworld #writersnetwork #readwriteunite
    @@mirakeework @writersnetwork @readwriteunite

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    Rain keeps pouring on my side
    (Read The Caption)

  • gautam10 1d

    मौन का भला संगीत हो कैसे ?
    अधंकार में कोई दीपक जैसे ?

    तुम्हारी घर की गली से गुजरे है हम,
    कोई तन्हा परिंदे जैसे ।

    कहीं तो कभी तो मिल जाओगे तुम ,
    मयूर को मिले कोई बरसात के जैसे।

  • thecriticismdumpling 1d

    #romance #love #flowers #Friday #writer #writeup #tuberose #beautiful #art #simplebutsweet #old #oldage #rain #charm

    I first saw them when I was taking my daily dose of Shatapavali with father. They were like any other white flowers: nocturnal, fragrant and beautiful. But they also weren't because those were the only flowers that my father ever plucked from their abundant inflorescence and placed on my tiny palms. They were the most beautiful blooms I had ever seen. Their fragrance was so ethereal that it captured me for life.

    I practically hunted them every time I took a stroll. I wore them in my hair. A garland, a gajra, loose flowers: it didn't matter to me. We followed each other wherever we went: even to my grandparents' house where I completed my matriculation examination! They became my Vaijayantimala: the garland of never-wilting flowers.

    My husband was a rather manly fellow... to others! To me, he was the gentle, sensitive soul I had hoped he would be when we met for the first time after our marriage was brokered and before the ceremony took place. One day we had a falling out. He had stormed out of the door. He came later that day, completely soaked in rainwater, holding a somewhat dry purchundi he had very carefully hidden in his overcoat. As soon as he removed that overcoat, the beautiful smell filled the room, my heart and my eyes. He apologized profusely for not getting mogra as the gajrewaala was out of good mogra. I never told him these were my favourite flowers. After that, he then got them for me every Friday without fail for the fifty-plus years of our happily married life. He still does, whenever he remembers that it is a Friday. Whenever he forgets them, he brings to me a larger bunch along with a few roses the next Friday.

    I tried to plant it in my heavily curated garden. It never grew in my garden. My home could never provide the romance of the outdoors to it.

    These few months have gone without them. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss them. Their touch brings back to me my peace and their fragrance my more vulnerable moments. Being old itself is an isolation of sorts, imposed by time and fading memories of relationships. This pandemic has brought something similar to a million others. Although it feels more isolated, I take solace in the fact that I must not be alone in this.

    Today was a good day. It rained today. The petrichor emanating from the drying mud cast some otherworldly charm on us. My daughter and her daughter visited us. They brought some atta, vegetables and a few ladoos. My naat and her grandfather suddenly disappeared, and then he came back with hands behind his back. My naat and my daughter were shadowing us, smiling. I couldn't stop smiling. He called me by my pet-name after a long time and said, "Today is a Friday!" And he placed them in my hands.

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  • chiiniiwrites 1d


    Unhe niharte hi mere jazbaton ki tarah
    mere alfaz bhi dagmagane lagte hai.


  • snehalv 1d

    Rain enlivens us.

  • ayushagrawal 1d

    यह बूँद बूँद बारिश का होना
    यूँ चाँद और बादलों का आँख मिचौली खेलना।
    उस पर तेरा ऐसा सजना सँवरना
    मद्धम हवा के झोंकों से तेरी झुल्फों का बिखरना।
    वह मेरा तुझे फ़िर एकटक देखना
    कहो प्रेयसी क्या प्रेम अब भी सेष था होना।

    ©आयूष अग्रवाल

  • __moonchild__ 1d


    The Petrichor reminds me of your incense,
    I fall for your scent just the way the rain falls for it.
    Petrichor is evocative of old days such is its essence,
    Everyone relishes and the whole world falls for it.

  • chiiniiwrites 1d


    Pura saal is intezar
    mein beet gaya,
    kab baarish ayegi aur
    mehram se mulaqat hogi.
    Baarish toh aa gayi,
    lekin mehboob nahi


  • sulagna2019 1d

    Love Rain

    After scorching heat of summer
    The petrichor , the pitter-patter sound,
    The drops of rain , when touches my mortal body
    Brings the eternal flavour of happiness and satisfaction.
    Acting as panacea for my festering wounds .
    Endowing me with vivacity to live again.

  • skkhangarle 1d


    Barish ke bundho se ishq hay
    Thandi hava se ishq hay
    Un girte fhulo se ishq hay
    Un garam chai ke saat un khari se ishq hay
    Un ghar ke kone ke khidki se ishq hay
    Uff hame es mosam se ishq hay

    Sk. Khangarle

  • sirishajaiswal 1d


  • cute_bookworm_ayu 1d


    Yeh baarish bhi kitni ajeeb hai,
    Humare jazbaat mehsoos kara ne ke liye
    Khud gir jaati hai.


  • pradnyaa 1d


    It was so dark and cloudy outside
    But I smiled coz
    The sun was shining bright inside
    Realised, I was singing in the rain
    Oh yes, I am happy again
    I am happy again :)

  • sammy_934 2d

    Barasti barish or Teri yaadein
    Faqat!! hum tayyar hai bheeg Jane ko..

  • rusha_c 2d


  • aarwaii 2d


    Behind the dung adorned walls,
    Under a creaky tin roof,
    By the edge of the dark forest,
    Grandma tells,
    Lived a young boy like me.
    He lived with his grandma,
    Like I live with mine,
    Who adored him much
    When she oiled his hair,
    Warm was her touch.
    Only thing she warned him of
    was the demon Tipanniya,
    afraid of the sun,
    Who came about in a shroud of darkness
    To rattle a young boy's soul.
    he'd bang on the roof,
    The windows would clatter
    The sky was filled with booms.
    To his fearful self,
    Grandma would say,
    "The only way to save yourself
    When Tippaniya is at the door,
    Is to stand tall, and with great courage say,
    Ekum pekum pukam pun
    Run away, you demon run. "
    There came a day,
    Shiny as usual,
    And grandma went to collect some wood
    Taking long strides from his dangerous den,
    Out came the lion in mood for food.
    With each step he took,
    grey clouds appeared,
    And it was dark where there once was light,
    Grandma heard his vicious growl,
    And prayed for the young boy's life.
    The lion came to the solitary hut,
    To his dismay, the gate was bolted.
    He roared and scratched the wooden door,
    And swishing his mane proclaimed,
    "I am the king of the jungle,
    And tonight I will be your bane."
    He ran headfirst into the wood,
    And swung apart the door
    In front of him stood the young boy,
    Struggling to hide in the cupboard.
    The lion came inside the hut,
    In dramatic slow-walking fashion.
    No sooner had he started roaring,
    Swollen drops began to fall.
    In less than a proper minute,
    Drizzle turned into downpour.
    The boy looked up
    At the tin roof in fear,
    "Mighty king, you should crouch,
    Tipanniya is here."
    "Tipanniya who?"
    Asked the lion,
    utterly perplexed.
    No sooner had he asked that,
    His doubts were put to rest.
    A loud bang on the door
    Was followed by the shrill cry
    "I am the demon Tipanniya
    And tonight you will die. "
    The lion got really scared
    And he hugged the boy tight.
    The boy scratched his golden chin,
    And said " oh don't you be scared, you'd be alright."
    He walked up to the door,
    And took a commanding tone,
    "Ekum pekum pukam pun
    Run away, you demon run."
    A painful scream came from
    The other side of the scratched door.
    The boy opened it slowly
    And nobody was there.
    The dark clouds, the mighty shrouds,
    Could not be seen anywhere.
    The lion lay astounded,
    By the bravery of the little boy,
    Surely one who fights demons,
    Could break him like a toy.
    He gathered his courage and humility,
    Hid it under his mane,
    And ran out the door,
    To the woods which lay ahead.
    As soon as he was out of sight,
    From the side of the house,
    Grandma came around.
    The boy hugged her tightly,
    "You're surely grown up now."

  • kutelove 2d

    Drops pouring down
    Of the faces of children
    Dancing to rhythms of rain
    The skies becoming visible
    Romantic for one
    Tragedy for another
    The Monsoons have arrived
    Unfolding a Story for everyone