7628 posts
  • karthikakrishnadas_ 1d


    In the aura you create...i found my home


  • pujith_66 2d


    Others find home in,
    Cities and towns.
    But, for me home is,
    Where you are.


  • amrutha_writtings 2d


    Just a reminder that in this hot summer while we are sitting at our place complaining about the fan speed or low voltage.. there are still people working on streets to have food atleast once in a day..

  • miss_contendo 2d

    Why him?

    Becoz.... away from home.... only he makes me feel 'at home'


  • self_writer_ashu 2d

    Kuch naya karne ki jinke paas aukaat nahin hoti...
    Aksar woh log dusron ke kaam ko apna naam diya karte hain..


  • wintersplash 2d


    Was talking on the phone with my friend this morning and she was surprised and pleased to hear birds singing outside my window. I was like yeah, the birds do that over here every morning, and I live next to the forest.


  • ___alxita 2d

    Note: This is a revised poem written on Feb. 21, 2020.

    -- Windy Day --

    The virescent area, blank of civilization
    An old, wooden house stands in the dormant glade
    The accompanying wind blows its susurrations
    Along the waters with the lily pads that wade

    Warm days greet the house with a good morning
    A glimmering morning to thaw the cold of the night
    Sunlight sweeps away the darkness while we're adoring
    The sceneries encompassing the innocent lands

    There, the flowers and trees synchronizing in the breeze
    The sweetest zephyrs that still never cease
    And the house with its emptiness stands still
    Lying undisturbed as the winds continue its deep shrills

    #poetry #nature #scenery #landscape #grass #trees #sunlight #house #home #empty #water #flowers #warmth #mirakee #life #alxita_may_twenty

    Poem no. 98
    May 25, 2020, 10:25 AM (GMT+8)

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    Windy Day

    "And the house with its emptiness stands still
    Lying undisturbed as the winds continue its deep shrills"

  • shrutisinha 3d


    Somewhere between doing
    'work out from home'
    'workout from home'



  • sonu99 3d


    Haiku Poem:
    Amok in Corona

    Killer Corona
    Fear mongering atmosphere
    Much anxiety.

    The fast rumour mill
    Churning mind into rampage
    Panic and havoc.

    Crazy and cranky
    Superstition has risen
    With pseudoscience.

    People's roasted pshyche
    Anxiety runs amok
    Spins out of control.

    Fear and stress around
    Throbbing hearts and mind insane
    Deadly pandemic.

    Just be cool and calm
    To tame the anxiety
    Stay in home,stay safe.

    Read More

    Haiku Poem:
    Amok in Corona


  • alfaaz__dil__se 3d

    मुश्किलों में मुस्कुराने का हुनर कमाल रखा है।
    हौंसले ने उसके सबको हैरत में ड़ाल रखा है।
    किसी को भारी लगता है बस्ता किताबों का।
    किसी के कन्धों ने पूरा घर सम्भाल रखा है।।

  • lockhart_red 4d

    Sometimes I get excited and totally elated to be getting responses and replies from my favorite people.
    Atleast once in a while
    Dad my fav ❤️
    23 may 2020


  • when_d_writes 4d

    I wish to built a HOME again


  • spiritual_writer 4d

    Run away
    To home

  • parentscutie 4d

    An uncomplicated beau living on the earth
    Born in 2000,living as 1900 kid...
    Not anyone could ever savvy him
    He was just used by populace when wanted
    And his oomph was like a house haunted
    Life in school was a dispodency and blind alleyed,
    His stoomping ground was sophisticated
    He lived in nebulous apartment
    His motility was taken as advertisement
    He was not allowed to take part in sports
    Not a single friend was there to support
    In a seclusion he passed his life
    Divorced by his own wife
    Where could he go?
    When he was surrounded by foes

    #poeticallines #synedoche #metephor #manly #feelings #belikebro #fine #loneliness.#poetrycorner #sight #seculsion #home #enemies #foes #misery #dissapointment

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    Uncomplicated man's life


  • randalthor 5d


    Do you ever get scared when you realized that your home has become a person, not a place?

  • thatchristiangirlhymsing 5d


    As far as I can remember..
    I have always run free..
    Away from home.
    In search of things I don't seem to remember...
    I have learnt a lot of life lessons..
    I have been hurt..
    I have experienced the fear and the thrill..
    Of going to unknown places..

    Some days I sit back and rewind...

    All the people and places I have left behind....
    Over these years that I wrote to you..
    In my diary...
    Defiant to share my vulnerabilities with you
    I remember crying as a child holding on to you..
    As you left.......
    You kept leaving me and I never understood why...
    Your absence made me stronger...
    Am bold because of you...
    I love you...
    I missed you....
    My teary eyes turned to angry stares..
    And now am coming home...
    To you...
    To Maria...
    To our dogs, cats, farm house..
    To begin again.....
    I may run away again....
    But I will always come back...
    Because am the kite and you are the string
    You have been protecting me over these years....
    Made sure that no one breaks the string
    Connecting me to you....

  • _shoelacegirl_ 5d

    Lover of Melancholia

    I walked into the arms of melancholia,
    I looked back one last time–– seeking home.
    I saw colours, heard chatter and felt pain
    till it was too much to bear.
    Only later did I realise I'd looked for home all wrong.
    I let myself to drown into the cool depths of melancholia.
    I cannot say when it happened.
    But I fell in love with it:
    the solitude it offered to me,
    the softness of silence,
    the unconditional acceptance.
    Now––cheery crowds: just an annoyance,
    judgemental ladies: my worst nightmares,
    fitting in: an unneeded hassle for naught.
    I stayed in the arms of melancholia,
    never wanting to leave the solace it offered.
    They looked at what they thought to be a train wreck.
    But I'd never felt more alive.
    Yes, I am a lover of melancholia.
    And I wouldn't change it for anything,
    for it is where I found and healed me,
    And it is yet to let me down even once.

  • faiz_imam 1w


    वो कहते है की मेरा शहर मुझको खुशामदीद नहीं कहता।
    कोई उनको मिट्टी चूमने की रवायत जरा बताए।

  • lumos__ 1w

    #migrant_workers #Bengal_cyclone #home

    "Daddy, how long till we reach home?", little Arun asked for the umpteenth time since they had set out on their homeward journey.

    It was just an ordinary day. Ratul reaching the cotton mill 10 minutes earlier than the scheduled time just like he had done for the last 6 years he had worked there. Arun had again feigned a stomach bug to skip the school, but his father had mastered the art to see right through his shenanigans. Their one bedroom shack wasn't much, but at least they had somewhere to live in in that foreign land.

    It was just another day, until the manager called him, along with about a dozen other workers, to his office. Ratul had never been called to his office before and tried to recall any slip in this job in the last few days. Fixing one of the only two shirts he owned, he went inside accompanied by others and waited. When the manager had finished speaking, his head was reeling from the sudden shock and he was finding it difficult to differentiate between a nightmare and the reality. There, the manager had just ordered all of them to return to their home states as soon as possible and their jobs had been terminated henceforth. His mind went back to the secret stash of money beneath their makeshift cupboard. As if voicing his thoughts, one of the fellow members spoke out, "but malik, we haven't got the money to make the trip. If you would be kind enough to at least give us some time to arrange for it.. " but they were informed that it was upto the central government. They were to return as an account of the Corona outbreak all over the nation.

    Ratul didn't take long to pack their little possessions, but to bid farewell to the land he had grown to call home, was another affair. The 13 migrant workers hence set out on foot, each carrying a makeshift rucksack and constantly assuring their children that home was not far. Since then it had been too many days and nights to keep a count.

    First part of the journey, where they had managed to secure the sympathy of a truck driver who agreed to give them a ride till Aurangabad at a far lower rate, was unanimously considered better than the second half. Next lap of the journey was on foot. Days and nights merged into one in a constant battle of survival. Food was scarce. So was water. And their little reserve was depleting fast. They spent the nights under the night sky. They ran to secure cover on rainy days and the sun burned their feet. Still, they walked on. The little ones cried, pleading to their fathers to end their suffering, but were told hopeful stories, stories of their motherland.

    Every night Ratul recounted stories of his own childhood to Arun. The river banks and green fields as far as the eye could see. Every day Ratul would call his wife to inform him about his day. Not much changed. Maybe a new bird he had seen that day. Or some strange news about the government. They talked about the future, uncertain and dark though it was, they would finally be together. Their daughter had also just learned the alphabets and waited eagerly for the two men of her life.

    That evening Nilima did not pick up the phone. It was unusual, but Ratul did not pay much thought. After all, hadn't she always been forgetful? Must've been too caught up with the household work. There was no need to worry yet. That night he was lucky enough to find a shade to guard himself against the rain and thanked his stars for saving them from the oppressive heat. Next day, Nilima's phone was dead. Ratul cursed his wife's negligence. He tried again but the phone lay buried within the debris of what they used to call home. Nilima was one of the lucky ones to be evacuated before the building fell due to the devastating cyclone that hit Bengal. She was one among the only 16 rescued from the apartment of 46. Her daughter hadn't been that lucky though. Nilima cried till she had no more tears left.

    Arun asked about his mother, Ratul couldn't give him a logical reply and that frustrated him. He went to sleep early that night, dreaming of a better future, a future where all four of them would be together. Where he would teach his daughter how to fish, and would accompany his children to the river bank where they would play as he and Nilima watched on. His eyes glimmered with hope and he promised himself to hold on. Better days were about to come. Tomorrow morning he would learn from the newspaper that hundreds of buildings had been destroyed by the cyclone in South 24 Parganas. Trees were uprooted from their trunks. Water and electricity would be unavailable for an unlimited number of days. Countless people had lost their lives or were injured. But that is all for tomorrow. Tonight he is free to dream.


    Read More

    Homeward Bound

    Where do you go when the home you've known is no more?
    How do you cope when your world collapses within a matter of days?


  • sherrys_poetry_space 2d

    Where do you keep your
    darkest secrets?
    Is it in a worthy life partner?
    Do you lark them on fresh paper ?
    Do you try to change them in your mind?
    And when they shatter your heart
    Where do you dump them?
    Forever with them seems lonely
    I hope no matter where you have
    to be or do
    I hope you have a home for your heart
    and its secrets