4286 posts
  • jodi_writes 10h

    When he cried for his Momma
    I cried for my children

  • jodi_writes 16h


  • shantis 1d


  • artbylove 1d

    It is Magic'

    Love isn't decisive,
    No you don't decide & love,
    It Just happens,
    But wait I ain't talking about lust,
    No no not at all.
    Love is a pure feeling,
    Where you are the most selfish selfless person,
    You make them happy so that you become happy,
    You given them all the joy and Power,
    You are ready to do anything and everything for them,
    Their smile is precious for you,
    Seeing them cry Breaks you,
    Oh My God....
    There must be something magical in this feeling,
    How can you be so close to a stranger,
    And remain close always.
    Love is MAGICAL ♥️

  • simran2315 3d

    The poems so magical, the muggles won't get 'em..


  • sanchari_karmakar 4d

    We have grown up hearing stories such as the Arabian Nights, Aeshop's Fables and Panchatantra which we shall always remember as a sweet memory. But, what about Harry Potter? We have grown along with it.
    #harrypotter #harry #draco #Ron #Hermoine #voldemort #Tom ##Dumbledore #Snape #stories #series #mirakee #writerscommunity #writersnetwork #quote #quotes #quotestagram #quoteoftheday #quotefortheday #love #magic #spells #potions #like #friendship

    Read More


  • _heart_2_heart_ 5d

    Some 'Chocolate Magic'

    What is a chocolate?
    It's every child's delight..
    and a diabetic's plight.

    It's the best food...
    Suitable for all moods
    A symbol of love and care
    Ready to be tough and fair.

    An apology without a chocolate
    Seems quite bare..and once sweetened
    With a chocolate, not receiving forgiveness is very rare.

    It's magic astounds all ages..
    So far, i feel it's the best discovery by the ancient sages.

    For those with a sweet tooth,
    The chocolate is a mesmerising boon
    It's an emotion for me..as it unites the world together as we.

    The chocolate forbids to descriminate
    It has evolved in all shades.. bitter , dark, white, milk..It's equally gorgeous in all it's avatars.

    It's magic shimmers alike in diverse castes, races and religions.. as thier own loving dessert.

  • amirthavarshini_m 1w

    Friend: How do you know he is the one?

    She: Everytime I smile, he sees me as I see briyani.


  • amirthavarshini_m 1w

    "Do you believe in magic? " She asked.

    "Yes, in you" he answered.


  • triciajohansson 1w


    The spirit crystallizes itself
    I look forward to see it's real realm
    A kingdom of wisdom
    Not a realm of fear
    Believe me; you belong here

    Magic, magic, magic
    I love to see magic
    Magic from life; flow
    My spirit, my soul
    All around me
    I'm prepared to glow

  • thebhavnasaxena 1w

    Summer Child

    Child of summer,
    Wearing a crown of gold and
    Sunflowers, the fire of the
    Sun in her heart and
    Sunshine in the spring of her step,
    She walks through the boulevards
    Of withered aspirations, lending them
    Her light, in the cold of the night,
    When the stars seem too far away
    To hear whispered wishes of the wretched,
    She burns in her own flame, spilling
    The golden magic in her veins,
    And when the clouds turn dark
    And storms threaten to rob her precious
    World of warmth, she mutters under
    Her breath, like the sun, I will still rise
    I will still rise,
    I will rise,
    Rise, Rise, Rise
    In sync with her heart
    Pumping fire to turn her to steel,
    Rise, rise, rise
    As she spins her armour out of sunrays,
    Rise, Rise, Rise,
    Till the storm is parched,
    Rise, Rise, Rise,
    That is her quiet battlecry,
    The child of summer is the
    Daughter of the sun,
    Glory is hers to claim,
    Come at her thunder and hurricanes
    But make no mistake,
    Clad in golden splendour,
    She will simply rise.

  • senapathihareesh 1w

    Act of chemicals

    Your the epitome for penetrating my oxytocin and by the way your the only one who mitigate my Serotonin too.

  • unknown_writes_25 1w


    At first it used to seem magic,
    Now i realised that the love was an illusion


  • when_d_writes 1w

    Why do you believe in magic ?

    I don't know still in this fake world
    Why do you believe in magic ?
    Whatever is or will be going in your life
    The end always ends with a tragic

    Fake is the magic you see in glowing screens
    The real magic is the power inside you
    Not like what in your mind it seems
    The real magic is you

    If you want to believe in magic
    Believe in yourself
    You can do anything with your own help.


  • splendiferous 1w

    Cladded in jewelry of innocence
    And glasses that visualise the world as insouciance
    Dances by the clock to strike midnight
    Silence, arrives as the moon materialize
    She waits and she waits for the arrival
    Of the fairies who could only be seen at night
    Oh! Behold darling, it's a magical sight.
    For fairies can only be seen during the darkest hours for that is when they shine.

    Away from the world, away from the scrutiny
    Like stars, their semblance glow incandescently.

    But dear young Molly has a question for them today,
    She will get the answers she knows for that is what she vows.
    She is a child with heart of vigour and core so stubborn
    She won't let her fairy friends live like this anymore.
    Thus she waits, below the ceiling of the hushed house
    Silence drooping and cannot be doused
    Vestiges of sleep long gone, forgotten was bedtime
    As she waits and waits for the clock to strike midnight.

    Alas, they arrive, blinding light so bright
    With smiles so lavishing, lighting the midnight
    Their voice a singsong of sweet, sweet melody
    "Oh did we make you wait today, dear Molly?"
    Young Molly, shook her head and then her words betide

    "Dear faires, dear fairies why do you always hide?"
    Taken aback by the query but they still answer young Molly,
    "You won't understand, dear child. The world is not so benign."
    "Dear fairies, dear fairies, but you are magic."
    "Every difference in this world is visioned as tragic."
    "Your beauty transcends the world!"
    "This world doesn't have a place for someone who goes beyond it."
    "Oh! can't they see your goodness? Are they blind?"

    "They can see, but they don't want to admit their find."

    "But dear faires you make everything so bright!"

    "But my child, the world prefer everything black and white."

    "I don't understand the world."

    "Dear child, neither do we."

    Saddened by the answers, Molly starts to cry
    Seeing their young friend like this the fairies sigh and tells a lie

    "Oh dear, don't you cry - for we are more than happy to have you by our side. For nothing is there from you, that we hide."

    Lies and lies for they know it will betide
    But they do not say for they don't want her to cry
    They hide away, that Molly will sway
    One day like everyone she will look away.

    Too many words? -_- Iknowalotofyouwontlikethis// but it's been a long time - howdy?

    Eitherways, if you all ACTUALLY read this - i want you to tell me what YOU interpret from this story - (like you don't have to but if you do then well- you will make me happy.)


    Read More

    Molly and her fairies

    Cladded in jewelry of innocence
    And glasses that visualise the world as insouciance
    Dances by the clock to strike midnight
    Silence, arrives as the moon materialize
    She waits and she waits for the arrival
    Of the fairies who could only be seen at night
    Oh! Behold darling, it's a magical sight.
    For fairies can only be seen during the darkest hours for that is when they shine.

  • anyelia 1w

    Clearbrooke Cafe and Shoppe

    There is a small shop at the edge of town. To find it one need only to turn right off the main thoroughfare, then turn right again, then left. An alley should open between two shops, a narrow space that turns and twists as it winds deeper into the unknown. If one was to explore all the way to the end, one would find a quaint store front, complete with a red door (always open just a jar) and a cluttered shop window. Above the window, “Clearbrooke Cafe and Shoppe” is printed in faded red letters on the awning's sign.

    Few find it by accident, but fewer still find it on purpose.


    Claire hummed to herself as she dusted the window display. It was October now, maybe it was time to change out the summer parasols for winter coats? On the other hand, the collection of scarves from last February were still hanging there too, and the boss had yet to complain, so maybe things were fine as they were? Besides, it wasn't as if they ever sold anything in their window.

    She set the dust wand down behind the counter, debating what she should do next. They hadn't had any customers yet today, and the customer yesterday had only ordered tea, so there was no need to do inventory or restocking yet. She could sweep, or perhaps dust the mannequins in the back? There was always something that needed to be dusted, she had learned that very early on.

    She was just about to get up to dust the mannequins when the bell above the door rang as the red door was pushed open. A man in his early thirties walked through, looking as confused as every other guest of Clearbrooke's.

    “Good afternoon,” Claire said. “Anything I can do for you today?”

    “Ah, no, I'm just looking,” he said and proceeded to find the shelves opposite her very interesting.

    “Let me know if you change your mind!”

    She kept up her shop keeper's smile. No one who walked in here was “just looking”. Or rather, if they were, they inevitably found what it was they were “just looking” for.

    Even she had, in the end.

    He picked up a jar from the shelf. “Canned laughs?”

    “Good for rainy days,” Claire said with a nod.

    He frowned, looking between her and the jar. Finally, he said, “But it's an empty jar?”

    “No, everything is as marked. If it says canned laughs, that what's inside.”

    His frown deepened as he looked between the jar and her again. “But… It's a jar?”

    “Good for rainy days,” she repeated. He set the jar back down without further argument.

    He walked along the shelves, stopping in front of an umbrella stand.

    “How is a 'rain repelling umbrella' different from an ordinary umbrella?” he asked, reading the tag.

    “Oh, it's not really. But it's been enchanted so that if you carry it, it won't rain.”

    “Isn't that just a superstition?”

    “No, no, it's a superstition for regular umbrellas. These ones it's a guarantee.”

    “How can an umbrella guarantee it won't rain?”

    “How does any magic work?” she asked.

    “Magic?” he laughed.

    “There is no such thing, yes, yes, I know.” She waved away his protest before he could voice them. “How about you tell me what you actually want?”

    “I thought I already said, I'm just window shopping.”

    She shook her head. “I've worked here for over five years. No one who walks through that door is just window shopping. You don't get caught by the shop unless you need something.”

    “Caught by the shop?”

    She smirked. “It's more magic. Would you believe me if I said that?”

    “Do you think I'll stick around longer if you speak in riddles?”

    She shrugged. “No one has left without buying anything yet.”

    He didn't answer, just turned away from her to inspect a rack of greeting cards.

    That was fine. Like she'd said, she wasn't worried about bullying him out of the shop. It was part of the magic. The same magic which had brought him here would keep bringing him back until he found what it was that he was looking for. That was the nature of Clearbrooke's.

    Most never believed it was magic that had brought them here, most left without realizing there was real magic for sale on the shelves either. Certainly, none believed it when they first walked through the doors. She certainly hadn't, those years ago.

    Cold and hungry, she had fled down the alley trying to find shelter from the rain. She'd lost her job days before, just been kicked out of her apartment that morning. Yet she couldn't bear to tuck her tail, leave the city, and return to her parents. Couldn't admit she hadn't been able to make it.

    She'd come to the city to find something to live for. To find a cause to fight for. A code to live by. She'd found empty work and silent living places. And she hadn't been able to survive the daily grind toward nothing.

    “Is this real?” he asked, breaking her from her memories.

    He stood in front of a display of colored beads on tasseled strings. Some were tied in loops or bows. Some were designed to be tied around another's wrist or a bag's handle. Some ended in plaques inscribed with ancient symbols, while others were made up of only the tiniest glass beads.

    “Yes,” she said. “Those are real magic charms. We carry everything from good luck and love charms to wards and wishing cranes.”

    He ran his fingers through the beads, letting jingle as they fell back into place. His hand stopped on a bracelet of alternating green and yellow dragonfly beads. “And this one?”

    “Mmm, if I remember correctly, that one wards against disease and aids recovery,” she said. “An all-purpose health charm.”

    “Any disease?” he asked.

    “I thought you didn't believe in magic,” she teased.

    She knew it wasn't fair. They couldn't help the tug the store had on their need. Whether they believed in its power or not, the store would guide them to what they needed. Whether they believed what they were purchasing would actually help or not, they couldn't help but buy it.

    But she always tried to break that hold. To make them admit the magic must be real, or to dissuade them from buying it. It felt dirty otherwise.

    “He loves dragonflies,” he said.

    She raised an eyebrow.

    “He loves them,” he repeated. “I would take him fishing with me. And, well, he never stood still for the fish, never had that kind of patience. But he would run for hours by the lake side, just chasing them.”

    He held the bracelet of dragonflies up to the light, watching the beads sparkle as they turned slowly on their string.

    “How much is it?” he asked suddenly.

    She took the bracelet from him and stepped behind the cash register. A memory of an early morning, a renewed hope, and a loving heart, paid not to the store, but to the item's recipient. That was what the store told her the man owed for this one. She smiled. How was she supposed to eat if that was all she charged?

    “Five dollars,” she said to the man. He would give the boy he spoke of those things without her telling him he needed to. She could already feel it. “Would you like me to wrap it for you?”


  • xxblack_swanxx 1w

    It is a cup of magic and misery, of which at its bottom secrets have remaind like dregs of coffee.

  • rainingwords 1w

    I saw a butterfly
    The old type
    Wings sprinkled
    With purple sparkly dust
    Laid cozly on a flower bed
    It's comfy comfort zone.

    Out of unquenchable curiosity
    It flapped, flattered and flew
    High, and glided gracefully
    Through the whinning winds
    And honeysuckle scented
    Beloved becalming breeze

    Oops! Enough tired I am
    It sorrrowfully said
    When reptilian foes struck out
    Their venomous tongues,
    It tossed and fell back
    On the same flowery bed.
    It's comfy comfort zone

    And silently went to sleep
    Drowsing like a charming cherub
    With a angelic halo.

  • yusra_qasim03 2w

    The quality of a good magician is that he knows how to make you believe that magic is something more than just an illusion.

  • cessara 26w

    The Call

    Draw a circle on the ground
    Round as Luna, white as bone
    To make sure it be earthbound
    Call for Solomon, alone

    Take a dagger, but take heed
    With perfect love and perfect trust
    Is the rule to grant the deed
    Some divine power---'tis a must

    Stand inside, light four small fires
    Offer thy body's crimson soul
    Now invoke what you desire
    Pray it answers at first call

    When warmth doth leave your side and die
    And the sylphs run swiftly past
    Sure as liars often lie
    That the evil's come at last