Mirakee
leftover tragedy
Jane walked through the gallery smelling like a leftover tragedy and went straight to her grandmother's room. She knelt on the floor and lifted the lid of a glass jar kept in the corner. Letters tied with jute threads, dried roses and old photographs sat in the jar, the weak rays of sunlight illuminated them, returning vigour and energy that they had long since lost.
The thin layer of dust on the top made her wonder why she'd never gotten rid of it, Jane would never know now.
She removed the lid and let out the scent of lingering tears and roses as she did.
She gently reached in, extracting the letters with care and as an after thought, she raised one of the aged roses to her nose and sniffed it. The faint aroma rushed into her nose and flooded her mind, reminding her of carefree days spent bathing in thick golden rays of light beneath a sky peppered with clouds.
Jane laid the rose to rest back in the jar with the other wilted roses and their pale petals before sitting on the edge of the bed, letters in hand.
With light fingers she removed the thread binding the letters and pictures together, placing the yellowing Polaroids beside her and she began to read.
The youth-soaked letters spoke of love, pure, unbridled, passionate love. How her grandmother had abandon the opportunity to dance with the greats of ballet when love had sparked in heart. Most of the letters were sweet, she and her lover longing for each other but that quickly faded as she poured over them. The story of a ballerina who came from nothing and hoped to be something, throwing it all away for a man who left her alone, broken. Her swift immersion back into the arts only to have the arts break her body after her heart had been devastated. By now the letters had changed, her handwriting had become frantic, tears had twisted the ink, turning it into soft swirls but still she read on.
Jane searched for the date in the corner, finding July 1968. Only twenty eight years old and suffering had solidified its grip on her, Jane thought, struggling to reconcile the sadness in these letters with the bright blue eyes of her grandmother that seemed to leak happiness.
She read on as she found happiness in painting and creating, smiling as her passion was reignited.
There were gaps between the dates, sometimes months or even years.
She continued on, reading of how her grandmother continued through the pain of her injury, not stopping when the world made her stop. Tears escaped her eyes, she thought they'd by dry by now but they came all the same only this time, sadness didn't pump them from her ducts but admiration. Admiration as the woman who had raised her survived pain, heartbreak, loss of a daughter and tragedies few would ever experience till she came to the final letter.
This one had Jane scrawled over the front.
Tentatively, her fingers trembling as she broke the seal and it drew the letter from within the envelope's depths.
She waited with baited breath, focusing on the first two words, 'Dear Jane,'
She inhaled before reading on.
'You must have found my letters by now which means either I've gone crazy or the cancer got me but don't feel bad for me. Those letters are just memories, a few that created the person I am. They were lessons in life, lessons I hope can show you that darkness is momentary, fleeting. Remember that I love you and that passion, passion for life will make it worth while in the end.'
'Goodbye,'
Jane smiled, wiping the tears from her face. She wrapped the jute thread around the letters before dropping them back into the jar. Her hands browsed through the photos, feeling their smooth texture as she watched the face of her grandmother through the years before placing those too in the jar and sealing it with the lid.
She stood and walked to the door, the jar nestled in arm.
"Goodbye gran' mama," she said to the silence before shutting the door.
©spacedude
#growth
2166 posts-
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Number of Haters is directly proportional to the personal growth.
©unknown_writter_exist -
We grow everyday
Like plants and trees, we humans too grow everyday, both physically and mentally. The growth may be so small that it is not clearly visible, but it can be felt.
©jeetspeaks -
Honesty
It's time you learn to admit
When you're lying to yourself
When you're manipulating yourself
You should know better than that
It's time to grow up
©mch_randomthoughts15 2
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rakeshkh
Dear writer,
We read your creations, they are very unique. We would like to invite you to participate in our new book. The book will be published with your name and copies of it will also be given to you.
for more information contact.
Thank you
Insta - hatchegg_publication
Mail : publish@hatcheggpublication.com - mch_randomthoughts Thank you so much for the invite. But I really don't have the time or perseverance to write something worth publishing.
-
rakeshkh
Dear writer,
-
Fate
Don't fight fate accept it and grow from it amor fati
©bloomingcloud98 -
Problems are tests
Problems in our life are like tests that make us keep going with the hope of scoring better every time.
©jeetspeaks -
mercury_
1w
Blistering indifference billows upwards from a soul pacified
Through hell I’ve strode, walked, and crawled
Through strife, I’ve pulled at walls of concrete and flame
And through stress and passion, I’ve reached indifference evermore comforting
Though tomorrow will bring what is yet to be known
Though yesterday has brought wounds and a symphonic whaling of coarseness
I shed not a bead of sweat in wasted anxiety, nor fret at what’s been lost
For the mark left upon me by each blow to my shell both inside and out no longer looms around me as if artillery strikes well placed
Rather now, embers settle at my feet, as fire burns from within
Whereas I used to seek warmth in the smoldering wounds placed upon me, it is now that my warmth is found from within the deepest pit of my chest, and the strongest kiln in my gut
©mercury_ -
I hope that if in any case I hurt someone
I am able to apologise without giving excuses
The pain is heart searing honestly -
Baby and Flower
You take a seed from the apple and dig it a grave.
Instead of dying
Reaching to the top as it grows
Just like a fetus
The seed turns into roots
Sucking in the nutritions
As the baby grows
A couple months go by
Leafs are sprouting
You see the little guy’s face
He’s about to start kicking
As the sprouts gets use to the sun
The baby can now identify it’s own mother
As she sings a little tune
It starts to rain pour
The flower blooms
A baby is born
A brain cell and stem cell
Both created a life
©wifey_suicide11 1
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rakeshkh
Dear writer,
We read your creations, they are very unique. We would like to invite you to participate in our new book. The book will be published with your name and copies of it will also be given to you.
for more information contact.
Thank you
Insta - hatchegg_publication
Mail : hatcheggpublication@gmail.com
-
rakeshkh
Dear writer,
-
The hemlock growing within my heart is poisoning me inside out and my lungs wrapped in barb wires is suffocating me to death.
©spontaneous_flow_of_emotion9 1
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rakeshkh
Dear writer,
We read your creations, they are very unique. We would like to invite you to participate in our new book. The book will be published with your name and copies of it will also be given to you.
for more information contact.
Thank you
Insta - hatchegg_publication
Mail : hatcheggpublication@gmail.com
-
rakeshkh
Dear writer,
-
Mindset
Mind should not be set.
Neither growth mindset. Nor "fixed" mindset.
©teokannan -
Boundless
I am not a product of my environment. I am loved in the heights of His sky, the depths of His sea, brighter than the moon, and beyond Saturn's rings, into the infinite cosmos and galaxies, and yet His love resides in me.
©goldenraes -
brianna_m_salmon
2w
Read More#ghost @writersnetwork @mirakee #writersnetwork #growth #wod
I believe that we all have battles that we have to fight. The longest one I have been fighting is the battle against the person who I was.
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The ghost of who I was,
Lurks forever in the shadows,
And with it darkness always follows,
It has chased me to the saddest corners of my mind,
And gives me not a single moment of rest when it comes,
The ghost of who I was,
Thinks I cannot rise,
It laughs and jeers,
When I say I will amount to something,
It whispers and tells me,
"You have and always will be nothing "
The ghost of who I was,
Is sad and insecure,
But I won't always let it haunt me,
I will find a way to move on,
The ghost of who I was,
Although sinister in some ways,
Still wants me to be happy,
Still wants me to rise.
©brianna_m_salmonThe Ghost Of Who I Was
The ghost of who I was,
Lurks forever in the shadows,
And with it darkness always follows,
It has chased me to the saddest corners of my mind,
And gives me not a single moment of rest when it comes,
©brianna_m_salmon50 2 11
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childauthor_345
Woah so beautifully penned down
Loved each line
Nicely done - brianna_m_salmon @childauthor_345 Thank you I appreciate it ❤
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childauthor_345
Woah so beautifully penned down
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There’s Monsters
My whole life has been filled with greed
My own family has stolen from me
What do you do when everybody fiends
A better life is what I need
Nobody can hear your scream
Even there’s monsters in my dreams
Weed can only get me so far
So I just spam and laugh at memes
I know what I need
But it’s a little far to fetch and claim
I’m so drained
Only a little I have claimed
I’m too much of an angel to go and stain
But too much of a root of an evil, that I still go insane
There’s so much of me that is left unexplained
Half the men I’ve messed with, I don’t remember their name
There’s monsters beneath my bed
They tell me secrets all the time
Paranoid, mostly when I’m high
Can’t afford therapy
Only solution is to die
Just like every other celebrity
All else fails
I know the remedy
The devil, he possibly has me
Crossing off my name
To myself and I
As I lay in my room, cry and cry
Like I even know why
Suicidal yes, but not when I’m dressed up
So...
Constantly always stressed
Shoot me in the head
Explode my brains out
Like Kennedy
Take your shot. Aim. fire.
©wifey_suicide -
mindofminah
3w
Recognition of the Process...
I recall having grown up, yearning to be fulfilled with this insurmountable love.
Curious as to where it’d stem from, I searched relentlessly.
As above, so below; I recited tirelessly.
False hope from certain outlets leaving me numb.
I began to succumb to the belief that I wasn’t one to deserve it.
My father hadn’t shown, nor given me any form of love, therefore why should anyone else?
A lingering question, festering amongst my internal shelves.
The very fibre of my existence grew cold... envious for said form of love.
Each of the friends around me, having grown together, passed a boundary I hadn’t experienced.
Of course, my mother relayed unconditional love to me; she’s my mom, she’s forced to inevitably.
Or so I had thought.
I hadn’t the ability to grasp and empathize at this age: to realize the genuinity of the love my mother had given me.
My thoughts, emotions, and essentially my entire being, was heavily wrapped up in obtaining this “love”.
Beginning to grow faulty.
Friends resembling foes, I felt thoroughly alone.
Thusly resulting in the damndest.
Regarding and desperately searching for this “love” in boys, at way too young of an age.
Mustering energy to engage myself to place attempts to fill a void, left behind by Troy.
Piece by piece, I began to crumble.
The further I chased, the deeper unto the dark I was lead.
Becoming enveloped with insecurities, demons, fears; all swallowing my soul.
Each false preposition of care and love, deriving from a physical desire.
Fear continuing to transpire, I questioned the potentiality of whomever had the audacity to conspire these events.
These kids were far too young to grasp what I was severely needing.
As was I.
I grew exceedingly confused; my turmoil immense.
Coming to a point of sending nudes.
Where a year later, I was raped by the same dude.
He manipulated my fragile being.
He diminished any fragment of light which remained for what I was searching for.
Used me, as though I was an object fit for the making.
Yet, you remained.
A past lover who truly understood the love, which I had searched for.
You caressed the carcass of my being... you helped me heal a bit.
All having occurred when we were at the age to begin to fathom what was going on.
I split this off.
I was destined to fall once more.
He was devilishly awaiting, ready at the foot of my rickety door.
An occurrence which beat me down the most; while falsely building me up.
A sociopath at its finest.
Scaling my psyche with an axe, hacking away, inch by inch.
Cycling through commotion, drug induced, psychological erosion.
The aforementioned light within my being knew I had to leave.
To the unknown.
He was destroying me, prior to me even having a chance at success.
I dove unto my family and friends, in distress; all I had left.
He fought to stay.
His tightly bound control commenced to wither, as did he.
A fiasco of where to go.
I avenged myself.
Terrified, nimble and numb.
Grasping my best friend's thumb, being lead to comfort, to refurbish.
So I did.
Weed became a companion, yet being cut after my dependence days, I felt revitalized.
I sought after my truest forms of psychological damage.
Introspected and released all.
Beginning to tumble and fall.
I was blessed with the profundity of strength.
Understanding to head forth with courage; standing once again.
Through examining my damage, inflicted by others, I realized that the love I was chasing, was awaiting to be enlightened within.
Therefore my journey of becoming myself begins.
Meditative experiences, divine occurrences.
I began to ascend.
My best friends having been there through the brunt of it all, became my kin.
I made sisters throughout the country.
My love for me, made me capable of loving life and others.
Conclusively, yet not finality.
You arose unto the equation.
A divine knight in shining armour.
We encountered one another beyond the physical.
You showed me how it is to love me, you, us.
Thank you for you.
Shall this flame never wither.
©mindofminah -
mercury_
3w
Moonlight vigil
In dusk’s hallow face
I found you embraced
By the hands of another not torn
As you shudder and hide from the moons pale light
It is I who sees as you burn my eyes
For not of one but was to you
But a wretched crutch once adorned
With the love and compassion
of circumstantial passions
Never did I think of wanting more
Now as you bask in the nights romance with another wrapped around your claws
Do I see no standard, not pain, nor pandered
To the man who once writhed on all fours
Not again to be bound
by a scarlet crown
Decorated in pain not seen
For its now that I bask
In the moons romance
That I see that you only lead me askew
You were there but were never once true
©mercury_ -
jadeivy
3w
The sky will grow brighter once you've found where you belong.
©jadeivy -
Time Surprises
We loose people within no time .
We loose opportunities during a time .
We lose people whome we love as we don't spend time with them
Time supress with a emotion called sucess that makes your time more valuable
©shekarleader -
backstorypoetry
3w
Read MoreCuriosity can make you do great things.
Always be ready to gain knowledge and experience
Knowing something doesn't make you an expert
It makes you arrogant.
Quote by @believethat_1997
Follow @backstory.poetry for more ❤️❤️
#believe #believeinyourself #strength #situation #arrogant #attitude #ego #arrogance #growth #motivation #learn #opportunities #potential #competition #efforts #nurture #apathy #curious #curiosity #believeintheprocess #writersofbackstoryNever lose curiosity.
It’s normally replaced with apathy or arrogance.
Neither will nurture growth.
-believethat_1997
©backstorypoetry11 1
-
rakeshkh
Dear writer,
We read your creations, they are very unique. We would like to invite you to participate in our new book. The book will be published with your name and copies of it will also be given to you.
for more information contact.
Thank you
Insta - hatchegg_publication
Mail : hatcheggpublication@gmail.com
-
rakeshkh
Dear writer,
-
mercury_
3w
Mr nothing
Slam me down and drag me through mud
Liver’s shot, I’m coughing up blood
Got nothing to lose and nothing to gain
So I may as well just play this game
Mr nothing comes through to be played by you
I’ll be your crutch, you can never have few
I’ll right all wrongs and hobble you along
But when you move on fast I’ll have to be strong
Drag me on down, cause I claim this crown
Like a one way street in a deadbeat town
I know I seem like shit but you’ve gotta admit
That when you’re in a pinch I’ll pull you from it
Mr nothing comes through to be played by you
I’ll be your crutch, you can never have few
I’ll right all wrongs and hobble you along
But when you leave me hanging I’ll know who’s to blame
I know my place in this damn rat race
Never just me and you, no never just two
I see myself as a mat to be scuffed
I’d rather be used than be one less than two
So Mr nothing is here all just for you
Lie, cheat, beat my heart to the dirt till it’s black and blue
Can’t lie to myself, there’s always somebody else
But I’d rather be used than be one less than two
Mr nothing comes through to be played by you
I’ll be your crutch, you can never have few
I’ll right all wrongs and hobble you to
A better place safe and far away from me and you
Because I’d rather be used than be one less than two
©mercury_
