60 posts
  • bonitasarahbabu 11w

    She's stuck in the labyrinth of the past,
    Looking for the way out.
    Looking for the ember of hope,
    Has been a draining situation.
    In dreaming about the future,
    And being stuck in the past,
    She's not making the necessary steps in the present to fix the situation.
    In struggling to find the ember,
    She realized that she is the ember.
    She is the carrier of hope,
    But she didn't realize it till this moment.
    The past needs to be the reminder
    Reminder of what didn't work.
    The future needs to be forged
    And she needs to forge it to her liking.
    Not all will like what she does,
    But they aren't the ones living her life.
    She is the ember,
    And she is lighting her way out of the labrinth.

  • vantab1ack 11w

    The one who wrote this is a boy :)
    So if you're a girl, you can read this and feel this, and if you're a boy, YOU MUST READ THIS.
    {don't hesitate to read, it's not something weird, ok?}

    Read other such pieces under #vantab1ackperspectives
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #writersbay
    #hearthc #saudadec #blurc #shadowc #epochc #emberc #ironyc (A compilation of challenges :D)

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    A girl on the call, would you listen to her?

    I just turned 13 before some two months. It is Sunday today. The breezes were soft enough to caress my hair and make them fly with halcyon in the air, but my body didn't want some enjoyment today, maybe. I started feeling too uneasy since morning, my stomach started aching severely, as soon as the sun hastily woke up from its sleep by the alarms of the sinking moonlight. My grandma and mom were sitting by my side, and insisted me to skip my school today. I was perplexed and blurred further when I saw their salmon lips wide; it all felt like mocking my pain. My shadows were trying to tell me something, and my senses didn't interpret it. And you couldn't oppose me by my stands completely, for this world knows to laugh at somebody better than laughing with somebody; it is all the game of conjunctions and pronouns. I somehow managed to rush into the washroom, and I found scarlet hues, what? "Momma", I bellowed like that neighborhood child who fell down badly while riding his cycle yesterday. She seemed like a prepared lady as she entered with something in her hand saying, "Here, have this pad, it will be alright", she smiled with her crooked teeth which weren't ironic to me this time. I was exhausted so much. I just had a nap till noon. And when I woke up, for my surprise, I found my mother saying to father, "Kuch nahi hua hai, beti badi ho gayi hai, khush ho jao" (Nothing so severe, she has become mature now, cheer up!). I was left with questions in my head. I somehow managed to google this thing, "Why do girls bleed by thirteen?" and the articles I read made me realize, "Oh wait, my mom wasn't being mad by the juncture, she actually is quite mad, the whole world is". With these thoughts, I closed my laptop and slept with eyes open.

    Good thing, girls are mature, I am mature, I appreciate that. My perplexions can only be entangled when you would make some intellect to answer my question - what lies in celebration when the one who seems victorious actually bleeds pain in the party? I got to know that this process is termed as Menstruation or Periods. Nice. If you aren't aware of what this is, I can explain this to you in my words: "bleeding crimson for four days so that the one who deems himself to be powerful contributes in bringing another creation to this earth". So basically, eggs start releasing every month from the fallopian tubes and the uterus prepares itself with blood vessels and mucus to implant them. But when fertilization doesn't take place, the blood oozes out and this is what the process means. Just blood with some pain. But all resemblances deeming simplicity have complicated tangled yarns inside themselves. Only complex beauties with scars inside can portray saudade in the best way possible, and I find myself in this genus. My heart(h) is lit up with woods which are making my questions bid sayonara with the embers. It all feels like being a girl is a curse, and these points cross my mind:

    1. My grandpa had told me this, "When the almighty had to divide mankind into two, he didn't want any one of them to feel injustice. So he gave the men folk some powers to enjoy. Since he had a soft corner for women, he gave them many powers like being the creator of a creation, serving the entire family by her own strength and many more. Now he doubted that women, having, so much power, can get into severe rage and rise to an intolerable extent. That is the reason he gave them pain in two forms- periods and pregnancy (Still, these pains actually come with good outcomes)". It makes me feel that girls are powerful. Pain comes with demands. I can tolerate my pain to be great, can't I?

    2. The rustic pages of the old history have narrated and witnessed many epochs and balladries, of which a few speak of war poetries I used to feel boring in the sixth period of my social classes. They speak that bloodshed signifies fighting till the end, and if oxygen still manages to empower your bloodpool, you are victorious; you've won the war. I think for two minutes in silence, and I can proudly say now that, "my girls are warriors". It instills faith in me that tough times can pass on like diaphanous feathers with the grace of wind and time. I am a warrior with pride and courage.

    3. History and past is a womanish book which is hardbinded and draped in a thick black Saree, and the whole thing makes sense as 'Culture, Traditions, Rituals', whatsoever. Some attributes are agreeably useful. But the thing that orthodox or ritual families don't let girls with ongoing periods walk near the rooms where God is worshipped makes me laugh pitiably. He has sucked his blood out and gifted it to that girl of yours who fears whether her dress is stained scarlet while listening to her chemistry classes. Will he be angry at you for bleeding his own seasons? Think.

    4. The fact that girls menstruate in their puberty isn't like some new trend which popped out in your Instagram feed a few minutes ago. In real honesty, your brother who fights for petty reasons, the boy in your class who has a secret crush on you, the uncle in your neighbourhood who has set up his own pharmacy, everyone knows about this. They might act like they know nothing, but when enough intelligence and vision is shown, microbes too cannot escape from getting into red-handed sights. If everyone knows that you need a napkin now, why bring fear to those by wrapping in newspapers? Why hide your masked face with another mask and give shyness one more follower? It's okay to give white napkins some white light.

    5. If you are a boy and you still laugh at her at times when she would want to use washrooms frequently, don't do that. Nothing comes easy at the silver plates. She might be a mother of a child whose father was sitting near you in the fourth bench when the lunch break was near. Bring some reverence into yourself. If you can help her, that's great. If you cannot, silence has a lot to do. A girl is a soldier in lead, and you need to admire her for winning over herself and her pains, everytime.

    So the next time a girl comes on a call, would you have the courage, patience and {enough} reverence to speak and listen to her?

    ©Vantab1ack ~ Nov 8, 2020

  • fleeing_fossil 13w

    #epochc #felicityc #emberc #recipec @writersbay #pod

    Not at all times would life meet our expectations. We enter an epoch where we inhale and exhale very naturally and sense awful asphyxiation. The heart thumps against the chest and we believe it's the most oppressive labor to do. There are days when life brings you to your knees and you reckon everything is over and get depressed over that fallacy.

    //Yes, the problems might be hefty and heavy. But, wouldn't you carry them infinitely if they were light and delicate?

    Yes, failures are so difficult and brutal, and wouldn't you get used to them if they were easy and peaceful?

    Yes, the sweat and tears are too salty, and would you ever get over them if they were sweet?

    Did any candle spread light without disarming its silhouette?

    Could you ever sniff the piquant petrichor if clouds won't burst into tears?

    Did any vegetable make it to a recipe without being simmered in flames and spices?

    Could any pristine paper render poetry without getting soaked in stygian ink?//

    In life's game, you are threatened to fall but again it does give you a chance to raise and succeed. It has a habit is to offer you both felicity and despair. Sufferings aren't foreign to us as we were used to wails the moment we took birth. The valiant ones get a larger share of despair. You are the valiant one so the embers arrived at your door. This is the moment you get to show your mettle. Reach out and embrace whatever life has in store for you.
    Endure it. Traverse it. Learn from it.

    #hopenotes is this considered one? @saya__

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  • bhawna__ 14w

    T R U S T
    I don't trust you either,
    I live with the lies dear,
    I trust the mysterious life,
    The way it always lies.
    The way we trust each other.

    October 18, 2020.
    @mirakee @writersnetwork #emberc #trust
    #writingcontest #creativearena
    #writersnetwork #mirakee
    *meddling thoughts*
    *messed up toss*
    *I loved the word Trust*
    *the way its crust*
    P.S. : Okay, so here's my first #writingcontest #creativearena :p
    (from the procrastinator that I am)

    P.S.S: shagun ka 11th like from writersnetwork .. Pj :p

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    T R U S T

    "TRUST" starts with the true statements,
    statements that don't have the explanations,
    If I'm lying, would you like to trust me?
    and there goes the trustworthy crime.

    "TRUST" is a promise,
    that I didn't promise,
    but you understand,
    even if I break one.

    // Do I need to give you a promise for an evident trust?
    If yes, then why do you say it trust rather than a test?//

    I have told many lies to my parents and they trust my lies and smile.

    I have done a false crime and my love says that I never trusted you and your cry.

    I guess opinion is an experience that people used to get while forgetting the difference between biased and unbiased, and ultimately it goes in the bias of the touching experiences.

    and when it comes to trust,
    whenever I was asked in my life the same question,
    "Do you trust me?"

    I never had an answer.

    okay, I'll explain.
    whenever this question came to me to say Hello,
    I was like "who are you?"
    and "what your occupation is?"

    Trust said, "I'm your best friend and worst enemy".

    Trust gives you a thousand questions in its lifetime and still you choose to trust.
    Because trust is an asset that costs a million lies to make the trust to make its definition tough.

    I don't trust you but I do exist,
    Trust does exist when I do not trust you.
    I know you don't trust me,
    Trust flirts with us as we take it in the mirage of loving lies.
    Trust is never special to die.
    It's a back flirt to the skies.

    // we don't trust people but at the cost of it.
    Trust dies but we cherish its ember alive.//

  • bonitasarahbabu 15w

    The ember of her love was all that was needed to remind him of the love they once shared.
    Alzheimer's did not win today because her love was stronger than the bloody disease.

  • my_tiny_chapter 15w

    #emberc #goodbyes

    You met my concern with ignorance
    and walked away in silence,
    leaving me
    to lament over the coming days 
    as I plunge into the dark abyss
    I enslaved my mind
    by dwelling on thoughts of you
    will keep you around,
    You do fade!
    Like dying embers.
    All my hope is now gone
    and troubles unfold.
    I look inside and smile,
    as I have been told
    "You only glow at night"
    The fear came true,
    and now my eyes have lost you, too.
    Passion has burnt away,
    all what remains are embers
    fading and diffusing 
    with sorrow cascading 
    down my cheek,
    and my heart
    that continues to beat
    somewhere else --
    With half of me
    yearning forget your name
    and the memories
    that burns like an ember,
    the other half
    is stubborn
    determined to remember....
    I wish
    saying "goodbye" is easier!

    Knowing or unknowing, we touch many a life
    Some left despondent, some with smiles.
    And with some, endings are inevitable and not to mention manytimes quite necessary too [ I'm not suggesting to prolong foregone conclusions] But sometimes all that's needed are just the art of saying goodbye and a genuine platform to stand on to say something like -- "I'll miss you or I'm not ready for this or I can't do this anymore."
    Else, A one word farewell could serve innocent ears unjust death sentences.

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    Dying Embers

    A one word farewell
    serves innocent ears
    unjust death sentences,
    For never have we known
    the art of saying goodbye.

  • eclipsed_sun 15w

    • you can never forget the storm that occurred in summer •

    there's a volatile ember scorching my backyard in the same spot where you first recited me a poem , 3 moons ago and it has been raging ever since, with a ferocity akin to the cold gale of air encompassing the misty-eyed sky on the verge of tears.

    i know not when first it arrived, but i suspect that it made it's presence when the moon first turned blood red. and now i stand amidst a few broken shards of a bottle of scotch, tipsy, turbulent, tinted verses, burgeoning conifers in a forgettable corner infused with disconsolation, when i suddenly notice a blackbird's song serenading the heavens and lo, i now see hundreds of photographs beginning to spill out of the pyre, with a faded nameless yellow shade on the edges of each and every frame, a crestfallen, inconceivable characteristic that photographs can have that i was blissfully unaware of.
    and now, exactly like a pack of wolves pounding on painfully requisite flesh, exactly like a madman sifting through garbage looking for gold tipsily i sift through these burning photographs in a mad-like trance, and i watch with disjointed eyes facing my mouth, puckered into a slight O as everything i touch fades into discoloured ash and i find nothing but weeds rising out of the carcass birthed from the roses shedding it's skin in the fire, slipping through my hands ever so slightly.

    I stare at my burnt hands and sigh
    and then look up at the sky
    , who looks back longingly, and i cry,
    , and like this unprecedented yet predictable half- rhyme, i ask the heavens, "does it ever go away?", and it looks both ways to make sure that the stars aren't watching and whispers, choking down a sob, "you'll never be the same". i am a prayer an atheist mutters, recalled only during exponentially dire and discoloured times, whose spaces in between the lines is filled with Goph's scribblings when he realised all is futile. oh lord, i could've sworn they would've found the sunken ship whose remains went missing in the summer of '69 in the napalm of my eyes that day. no wonder you wrote like you were writing like you were running out of time, you were, it was a matter of moments before thoughts, emotions, flowers, petrichor, all this would equate numbness, lackluster, facades, lies and all that is inaminate that poets use as tarnished, and terribly bored muses- figurines attached to paper strings hiding in their closets wondering how their selfish verse-maker would manupilate them today, which is why the silhouette of the old me who often laid on a stone for a bed and the bathroom floor at other times didnt petrify you when you found it lying on the winter deck, which is why you find the metal in a shackle sweet, which is why you wrote my name on books in grey, which is why when you wrote verses you would stop when you reached the middle and dissolve into thought.

    i mistook it to be love.

    and now, i am but a blurred orb feeling the symphony of a concerto fading from high to low. i am standing and staring still, bleakly at the white light filled abyss ahead of me, staring at the sky whilst it recoils in cries once again, i shift my haze away then. i am a hopenote morphing as a sucide note, a ticking time bomb, that sort. i am a maze lit up by fading christmas lights you forget to take down.

    i am now but my own undoing.

    there's an ember burning in my heart in my backyard on the same spot you first recited me a poem and i watch it laugh at me, and that marked the end of summer as i knew it, the end of the ages of wearing your heart on a checkered sleeve, the end of jazzy skies and warm nights, the end of swirling around fields dripping with cream-coloured daffodils all around, the end of times when sunsets would end with the emergence of mist-free mornings. my l{over}, the so-called rooted idea of us has transitioned from a flowerbed of jaded lilies, to the silence filling the air, for everyone to hear, and as these cherry blossoms swirl and fall down on my face ever so gently, i finally begin to feel how withered they really are.

    //the best part about the incoming rains is nobody can understand if the heavens are crying, or if you are//


    either read it completely, or skip it completely :)
    @iamsleepy @shashagilbert_ @veloc1ty_ @zohiii i love you guys. you all are probably the only reasons i am still writing here.
    @_aradhya @eurusgrey @_rainfrost_ @_hessa_ same applies for yall. come online soon
    not reading anyone right now. hope it doesnt bother you, because it shouldnt :")
    @writersbay #emberc #octobermusings *sighs*
    @mirakee @writersnetwork #pod

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  • l_stargazer 16w



    Do you remember that night in March?
    The night we skedaddle and break free,
    gentle waves touched our bare feet while we dance under moonlit,
    you put a white lily in my hair to match the glitters in my eyes.

    Do you remember that lovely afternoon in March?
    The day you said you would never forget
    you and I dance underneath the sun,
    as the zephyr touches my cheeks, I see forever burning in your eyes.

    Do you remember that morning in March?
    you scented sunshine bliss as I caved myself in your chest
    as we giggled, exuberance filled the room,
    wildflowers tinge sending invites to spring to bloom

    Summer mist filled the air once more
    your touch, your kiss
    those deep stares as wine touched my lips
    who would have thought they'll end up as memories?

    The wind blows taciturn, signifies the death of summer
    I scream my rue against the squall
    as hot turn cold, as ember turn to ash
    I was left alone, my verve in deep-freeze;
    You and I were sheer seasoned echoes
    as the season change, I hope to bury them six feet underneath.

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    As the dying summer's warmth sear my skin,
    my core's perforate down to the flesh.
    My soul's praying for perdurable winter,
    so I can enshroud these memories in the deep cold.

  • rekhuu 16w

    Goodbye isn't easy to bid, especially when you wish to say it to someone to whom your heart belongs. For all that happened betwixt us, you were my greatest mistake. Paving the way for me to make innumerable mistakes that has finally led me into an abysmal abyss of failure. Those seven long years of melodrama have catapulted me into nothingness. If I could only travel back in time and undo the clandestine romance we shared, for had I not met you I would have been successfull personally and professionally. But is it so easy to unlove someone you loved dearly.?! You were my waking dream wish fulfilment always preoccupying my heart and soul. I never dared to question your definition of "forever". My belief in fairytales and a happily ever after was skyrocketing with each passing day. Alas.! There is something called destiny and it started to play a spoilsport. Misunderstandings kept creeping up and you began to play the "victim" card. What a little fool you have made out of me. Your words "I'm the worst guy to be with" resonates in mind as it brings the memory of the day when innocently I had replied "I'll make you a good guy". How stupid of me for not realizing that some "rich" guys just need play "things". Falling in love is easy. But what really does matter is the committent towards your better half. Hope in the last few minutes before your death you see visions of us together and may you realise how inhumane you were to me and also how sincere I had been to you. This lockdown has come as a blessing in disguise to me as I have taken stock of my mistakes and realized my utter foolishness in sticking to a worthless person as you. I have finally decided to bid you a farewell and sail through all the mysery brought upon me by you and so I shall come up trumps sooner or later. I know I can and I know I will. Waiting to usher in the Zephyr of change and bring back my very own resplendent self.

    //Hope once you are gone, the zephyr of your regret smells like the petrichor and cools down the embers of my aching soul//


    #Goodbye #Zephyr #Petrichor @mirakee @writersnetwork

    #daadisbae @mirakee_ki_daadima @mirakee_ki_naanima #daadigotyourback

    #emberc @writersbay

    #icanandiwill @thunderbird__

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    If I could only. .


  • asphodel_ 16w


    The old banyan tree in the courtyard bedimed my pale frontline. The serene drops through eyes watered the rugged lines over helpless hands, which postured to call almighty whom I never praised.
    Today my sister valed a good bye to the nest, stiffened by her grace. Her eyes were numb, screaming a vicarage of hope. But someone clutched her hand and shingled her bottled hope mercilessly under the toe. And she faded soon with my cornea catching cataract.

    The old matron being born to a couple, father mould the wishper of her throat. The flap of the wings were controlled by tethering the feet with boundations. And she was left abandoned by the sky making her land over the bed again. This is how her journey began to be a woman.
    Her senses gape, when footsteps guide to a new home of unknowns. Her tremblings were given the name of anxiety and the box of questions is locked up by societal culture. Once again she stood in a well full to the brim but covered with stakes.
    She had to be quite for she don't earn for own and feasts on the penny of her spouse.
    Late in her 40s, dried maples recollect the history again. A son replaces the wallflower of her unfortunate serendipity, calling her again a maid.

    I saw the same old lady buried under the prop, in her eyes. She questioned the fate of being a woman The true essence of independence and self respect,only her soul knows. She hammered the courtesy pondered into her thoughts for she is unveiled as a material to whole world. Each of her drop asks for the freedom to hug her dreams without any stress of the rampy path behind.
    I adjourned her visage with the glue of empathy for loved ones but shattered the mirror for her true outlook.
    And today I can see my cracks burning in dying embers resembling her hues.

    //each cell of a woman's body is weaved by the nucleus of sacrifice //


  • love_whispererr 16w

    Be happy folks :)

    #emberc #love_whispers

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    The merry october vines were mounting towards your head and would draw a tipsy kiss on your red lips. Those mellow dewdrops would ensnare your saddest nights and kiss the catacomb with rejoicing metaphors. But the lilac cold flowers withered to an unappealing grey colour in the tenebrous night of first october.

    //O my sweetheart poet, come ! October is here for twenty three days. Cuddle the yellow Calendulas and orange sunshine of my morn//

    Wandering white clouds on the azure sky, your gorgeous beloved holding the red roses for you, the last raindrops of monsoon ; are waiting for you and your buoyant poetries. Yet you are entering to the darkness to bury those happiness, peace and love beneath the embers.

    //I'm the rejoicing ballad of October ; come and embrace me like you never perceive the companion of loneliness and foams of blackness//

    ~happiness and October || bidya

  • the_speccy_outsider 16w

    Time was running out and the noblemen weren't getting any victory, for the vengeful ones had taken over, intertwining their respective lives in order to perpetually collide, eventually. And thus the nomenclature of Heroes and Villains took place, creating a labyrinth of deceitful illusions.

    //The vile and macabre blackhole started to consume the galaxies of sanity and verity//

    Since childhood we've been constantly told that Heroes are good and Villains are evil. The one who saves everyone is a Hero and the one who creates obstacles for the Hero is the Villain. And we believed it! Put a fight, and the Hero sings the song of victory while the Villain walks the slippery path to defeat.

    //The eyes of a Villain often weep tears of a forlorn life//

    For everyone, the Hero is Blue, who confronts a Villain who is Red, for a Green Damzel in distress. A quintessential story for us to watch, read, listen and write. Inducing fear in form of a fantasy, which isn't true in reality. The ones who are outspoken, opinionated, straightforward, misunderstood, eccentric, imperfect, different are often termed as Villains. And the ones who succumb to societal norms are crowned as Heroes. Only hypocrites rule a narcissistic world.

    //I belong to a world where Heroes are considered as Villains and Villains are perceived as Heroes//

    Villains are alone like an empty room. Segregated from the zephyr of love and struck by the tornado of mist. They are the embers of a story. I miss them, if there isn't someone who's Grey yet pragmatic in a story. For one can always blame the Villains for all the mistakes one committed. How easy it is! One might never read, listen, watch or write a story that doesn't have a Villain. For who shall be held responsible for the struggles of the protagonists, putting them on the throne of success.

    But who are we to decide? Are we all perfect? Or is there really such a thing as perfection? Everyone wants to be a Hero. But it takes guts to be a Villain. To say that one is wrong. To admit no one is perfect in this imperfect world. I love Villains as they are relatable. They tell us there's still a chance to show remorse and look towards the path of redemption. To rectify the wrong deeds.

    It is a matter of perspective, I suppose. As whatever a Villain does, the same is followed by a Hero. Whether it is loving someone, fighting a plethora of dilemmas, going against the system, breaking laws and most importantly, taking a stand for yourself in order to get what you want. And the narrators often camouflage the lines between them. Providing an insight betwixt right and wrong, nugatory in nature. Not being inclusive at all. And blurring these lines is a quixotic practice, followed since generations. Yet, no conclusion is derived but the only thing one sees is a bigotry of Blame Game, and nothing else. Sadly!

    //Villains are what we call as the misfits, the wallflowers, the scapegoats, the anarchics and, the outsiders//


    #alone #zephyr #MondayMantras #time #belong #fridayfun #fear #sings #eyes #galaxies #mistc #colourc #labyrinthc #emberc #ffossil #daadigotyourback

    Picture credits: To the rightful owner.

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    I wish I could be
    A villain in someone else's story
    Allowing them to put all the blame
    For their misdeeds
    On me
    Relinquishing them from their sins

  • jlaine 16w

    Blistering embers all around,
    Cloaking me in ash of the waning moon,
    Remember me in your vestiges,
    As you summon the dawn of truce;
    For now l shall bide amidst the loam,
    Sifting through coarse and barren grain,
    In hopes of unearthing a solitary seed,
    A seed wherein courage and hope remain,
    Which I may then sow in my keeper's garth,
    So I may be renewed and rise again.


  • love_your_life 16w

    The embers of life

    Even the dying embers gave off light
    They dictated that hope was still alive
    Warmth could still be felt around that burnt wood
    Even in it's dying moments it helped life survive

  • wilmaneels 16w

    She was the ember to their dying fire
    But what if her flame also dies
    What if she gets tired
    Who will fight for a love that was
    Who will try and revive something that's nearly dead
    *image credit to rightful owner*

  • starrdust 16w

    Holds fire in core
    Flames in heart
    Preceeds shine iwis
    Succeeds the glow.

    Love and she'll burn for you with glee.
    Play and you turn into ashes in a wee.

    //She is an ember//

  • harshad09 16w

    Inside a room , small or not so ,
    locked from the word go ,
    where the airs lack symphony ,
    me and my mind , we two are company ,

    to begin with , to break the deadlock ,
    we consent mutually , for having a talk ,
    and being somewhat disciplined flock ,
    we wasted this chance , root to stalk ,

    not that we were lacking points to ponder ,
    but the question was who'd play ember ,
    for I was hijacked by some grays , somber ,
    and my mind , it's always falling for amber ,

    thus , we hadn't had a monologue , face to face
    just we were focused on our point , our case ,
    mind , that was going always , for victimization ,
    and me , I wasn't ready to submit justification ,

    that , derived both of us , to agree over newer intent ,
    so , much understandingly , we did alter the content ,

    now , under the newly installed decisions , light ,
    we chose once and for all , to end this fight ,
    not that we weren't lacking our individual mights ,
    but egos riding on us , they were choking flights ,

    but we both were agreed to not waste this grand ,
    so despite differences , we tried to take stand ,
    this was an effort to have a ceasefire , understand ,
    but still , we both were on opposite ends of a strand ,

    but then , we had to move ahead , we had to grow ,
    so rather unwillingly we opted to stop tantrum throw ,
    and we consented on maintaining the spirit of flow ,
    but just then , the door opened , ending the fab show

    and thus , once again ,
    we both were left in a trance ,
    for , once again ,
    we had missed acquaintance ,a golden chance

    #emberc #alone

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  • ashamurali 16w

    Goodbyes are hard, and more so for a doggie who has been grandma's companion. This is written from the dog's point of view. He is flabbergasted that the children who.never bothered when she was alive, came down to sell the house and share the spoils.

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #pod #emberc #goodbye #creativearena #writingcontest #daadigotyourback #alone
    #readthisj @writersnetwork @mirakee @writersbay

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    Goodbye Grandma

    Grandma was all alone when alive,
    Always waiting for someone to arrive
    She had just me for company,
    I could feel her pain and agony..

    The day she was finally gone,
    It was an end to an era bygone,
    Like bees her kids got drawn,
    house selling was agenda thereon.

    They lived in the house together,
    Till they finalized a good offer,
    Oh! fun and frolic with each other,
    Wonder who mourned the mother?

    My anger burned as bright ember
    Was it her money they were after?
    Eventually they left me in a shelter
    Could I have expected any better?

    They bear all the brunt severe
    women and people weak and senior
    this is the way they wield their power!
    Sigh! Can man stoop any lower?

    Guess that's how humans are!
    Is there anyone they would spare?
    Goodbye sweet grandma dear
    At least I am here to shed a tear.


  • silverjade69 16w


    Her beauty was enhanced by light of the burning embers.

  • bhawna__ 30w

    #end #alive #emberc #tears #seeking
    @mirakeewriters #writersbay


    I met him at the door of the funeral..
    We were having our ashes burning in the new cold fire..
    Because we both knew we are alive in the dead sire..
    A game of mirage was having its own moves..
    A pawn was struggling to reach the end of the other dusking bloom..
    In the hope of the powers of a queen ..
    Yeah the pawn thought he'll be alive before that line of wrinkling..
    Well the check n mate was the story of the delusions..
    I know you'll find me after my end to make me alive in your illusions..
    If it isn't the truth to breathe again in your eyes..
    When watching me with the smile and shine..
    You'll find me after my end ..
    You'll find me in your deep graffiti lines ..

    Read More

    Ember Screams

    I know you'll find me after my end to make me alive in you.