#melancholyc

44 posts
  • the_speccy_outsider 12w

    In her quintessential style, she sat on the couch smoking her third cigarette. It was true what everyone said about her, she indeed had an intimidating persona. As I ushered her in she gave an icy-cold look of annoyance. And that eventually augmented my nervousness.


    TSO: It is truly an honor to sit in front of you Miss Davis, I....

    BD: Let's cut down the pleasantries and get to the point.

    TSO: Oh, okay. Well I know how passionate you are about your craft. I just wanted to know why so much of it. I mean, to the extent of risking your love life, your motherhood, and family time.

    BD: Aren't you a darling! Well I loved watching plays and had a knack for acting since childhood. When I saw Miss Garbo on screen I'd stare at her with dreamy eyes. It would baffle me as to how can someone who's not really there, captivate everyone's attention.

    And it was the point of epiphany for me and my mother. You know, she travelled with me to all of my auditions. Consoled me everytime the casting director yelled at me. They wanted a pretty gift cover to show-off and I was nothing but a cardboard cutout that did not tickle their male genitals, or their ego, well in their case the lines were blurred in that context.

    That made me tough. You know, I was a Yankee. Giving up was not in my blood. And when George Cukor signed me for my very first acting assignment for the play Broadway, there was no looking back for me.

    TSO: That is quite fascinating. I heard you were terminated multiple times as you didn't have the much needed sex appeal. Why were women's role in films limited to just that?

    BD: Well honey, quite honestly, those bald and fat studio heads wanted to authenticate their fantasies. I was asked to kiss and lay below twenty men for a screen test. Believe me, I so craved for a silver lining, and after playing minor roles like a shadow, it came in the form of Mr. George Arliss who gave me my first break in Hollywood with a leading role opposite him. That's when the Hollywood Elites noticed me. And after a few more roles I finally got my first-ever Oscar nomination for Of Human Bondage, although it wasn't an official one but due to public protest they were forced to give me one.

    TSO: Since you mentioned The Oscars, you've been unapologetically outspoken about your views regarding it. It was evident that you were upset when you didn't win for All About Eve, as per your expectation. But you know what they say about expectations. //Expectations are like heartbeats. Life goes on when the line is both high and low//

    BD: Look at you, comforting me with your philosophical shit. Oh, I so adore your innocence kid. Well, The Oscars and I had an unusual relationship. I was given the honour of felicity for those films and roles that weren't my best ones eventually robbing me for all of my bests, including Baby Jane. How can I forget the night when Miss Joan Crawford walked onto the stage to collect the Best Actress award on behalf of Miss Bancroft, after lobbying the academy members against me.

    Yes I was in deep melancholy when I didn't win for All About Eve, for that was quite frankly, the greatest role of my career. And you know, I too would've gotten it for Gone With the Wind, had they let me play the role of Scarlett O'Hara instead of that incompetent Vivien Leigh. But all said and done, I'm happy with my trajectory.

    TSO: As you said, all said and done. I so admire your audacity to speak your mind. You raised your voice against pay parity, better roles for women, major studio investments for women centric pictures, helping the families of the soldiers we lost during the war, and what not. I mean you brought down the Studio System that literally obstructed all the artists amidst contractual obligations. You were one hell of a trailblazer.

    BD: Hell, yeah! I wasn't going to settle for less just because of my sex. Being a woman did not mean I was to be treated with inferiority. I wanted to speak up my mind through my film choices. Of Human Bondage was considered a blasphemous film but when you see the current ones, it might seem less sensational.

    But it surely jeopardized my personal life. I always thought that my mother was my only friend. But she used to send letters to her friend complaining about me. Telling her how I thought of myself as the Queen and that I was narcissistic. My own daughter hated me and even wrote a book about how I tormented her. I went through four failed marriages. But you know, the only thing that kept me going was my work. And I will keep working till my body gives up. Till my last breath. To still keep the lights on.

    TSO: Thank you so much, Miss Davis for taking time out to have a conversation with me. I used to dream about this since the moment I first saw you on screen.

    And also for not smoking the entire time. That was pretty generous of you.

    BD: My God! You'll kill me with so much of this nicety. And was this a conversation? Felt more of an interview. Never mind, I had a great time. As far as the smoking is concerned, I'm told to not do that at all. And I just had five of them.

    TSO: (Smiles)

    It's better to be hated for who you are, than to be loved for someone you are not. It's a sign of your worth sometimes, if you are hated by the right people- Bette Davis

    ©the_speccy_outsider

    #writingcontest #creativearena #felicityc #lettersc #dialoguec #shadowc #melancholyc

    Another ode to yet another legend. A fiesty, sarcastic and exceptionally straightforward lady and artist.

    For posts on similar theme, check out #ScreenLegends

    Picture credits: To the rightful owner.

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    Bette
    Davis

  • anshika_winks 13w

    Waking up with the desire not to
    Drawing metaphors from cupboards to wear
    Watering aliterations to plants
    Sipping Haiku with syllables
    Reading between the lines
    Having soups of sorrow at breakfast
    Melancholy as starters
    And luncheon with heartbreaks
    Finding muse
    In everything they hate
    There's a silver lining
    In every dark they create
    Weaving puns for themselves
    Because they are alone
    Irony is when others
    Believe that they are happy
    Going on a date with moon
    Returning home with dejected proposal
    Bleeding a heart wrenching note
    From the quills of love
    Sighing with regret
    Of not being lovable
    Sleeping under the stars that shower verses...

    ~Anshika��

    #thisisnotlame ��

    #AnDark #writingcontest #creativearena #pod #writersbay #melancholyc #readthisJ #wn #mirakee #daadigotyourback

    And to all the beautiful poets out there
    Accept my silence...

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    Time Table of a Poet
    ©anshika_winks

  • bonniesbabu 13w

    One too many melancholy reflections do I have,
    Of the times when life wasn't confusing.
    Times of work and times of play
    Times when time stopped and we had a moment.
    Fate came to intervene,
    She said that it was not something I deserved.
    Unforeseen circumstances came into action
    And reality was a tight slap in the face.
    Good things have to end,
    And the book needed to be shut.
    The story was over
    The fairytale was not meant for me.
    Sadly, I am not allowed to have good things
    I am not allowed to have good relationships.
    As the saying goes,
    If it feels like it's too good to be true,
    Then it is not to come to fruition.
    Melancholic moments I will have,
    Thankfully, although it hurts, the memories were good.
    ©bonniesbabu
    10/22/2020

  • say_me_krish 13w

    OF NUMBERS AND DEATHS

    Tonight, when my balcony doors bring some phosphorescence towards my stygian heart which is busy enough in intonating the verses I once wrote in the rustic pages using a lit matchstick, it refuses to get some newfangled air inside since it is already addicted to the hallucinations accompanied by the aroma of wilted roses which smell of melancholy and nostalgia all around. The very axiom that some signs are overlooked when in love is being reflected to every wall of my rooms so that it echoes to the extent where death feels inevitable. I've undressed the golden attire faith wore and burnt it down to ashes near my graveyard holding wild sunflowers in the garden where blooming was prioritized earlier. But for Satan's pleasure, everything has changed over time.
    /Ninety nine, ninety eight and walking towards the balcony where nineties and eighties are drinking champagne together/

    The mellifluous melody which sung lullabies resting my head on those solacing laps and ruffled my blonde hairs with smooth hands has started roaring like a werewolf in search of a prey with paws clenched to grip the feast tightly by 12 of the blue moon nights. The clock ticks slower than before so that pain flows through my bloodstream the slowest way possible, sucking all of my halcyon days inside, while small cyanide doses of memories eject out from the lymph nodes and end up harming my thoughts and expectations, bringing death ten steps closer.
    /Miles ahead come sixties accompanying fifties n' forties n' all dirty numerals sleeping in between/

    I go deep inside the warehouse of my brain cells and find happiness stuffed inside a box with the toughest lock ever found, while scars are wearing high heels and finding their couples and cousin danseuses even in absolute darkness. Memories are sidelined in a separate corner with legs broken and face distorted by acids of rancour, and the screams of those are making me feel my fairy sides flying away towards the stellars, the ones, which children fail in counting with their elfin fingers which cannot hold more weights and numbers.
    /The distance from thirties to twenties was just a kilometer, the end of my survival is not afar from my toes/

    Nineteen, eighteen and seventeen, handling the pressures of my resumed life is no more possible as those cameras which once captured smiles has negatives which are haunting me day and night. Months feel like hours passing away from the hourglass slowly and silently; the sands seep down with the air holding my survival. Thirteen, twelve and ten, I'm choking with blood in my mouth. I try walking upstairs, but crawling like a toddler is what all I can do, but unlike the innocent one which then knew nothing but happiness in the roses back then. Nine, eight, seven, my legs disagree to move forward, my hands tremble vigorously, my heart prompts me to continue, but the brain sends wise warning sirens which are ignored, as always. I don't want to, but I want to, and I will. I have reached the terrace now.
    /Six, five, four, everything tastes sour/

    With bloodstains all around me, everything seems crimson and black to my poor sights; the visions, which I curse now for making me what I'm today. I somehow manage to walk to the corner. In total haste and rage, I throw the bag filled with expectations and memories.
    /Three, two, one, and thud! I fall too; I'm finally dead/



    ~S r i K r i s h n a  P  S | Oct 22, 2020.
    ___________________________________________________

    @raika Thanks a lot for helping me out with this ❤️

    @writersnetwork Is this on the Popular, omg❤️��(48, 5)
    @mirakee @writersbay @sangfroid_soul @laus_deo
    #skp_writes #pod #lullabyc #melancholyc #creativearena

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    .

  • discoveringself 13w

    Melancholy!

    Melancholy paints your
    world a few shades darker;
    It pulls your yesterday into today,
    with tomorrow being out of
    sight or even farther!
    In the brightness
    of warm sunny noons,
    It feels like the sharp
    shards of icy cold waters;
    It leaves you alone,
    in deep thought, the solitude
    you grow to cherish and foster!

    Melancholy sets in, with
    no regard to dusk or dawn!
    It kills your joy, your hopes,
    with only you to mourn!
    It shrouds you in a
    layer of despair, a pearl
    Of tear to adorn!
    Even in a sea of familiar faces,
    you float in your
    own mire, all alone!

    And though better sense
    calls for breaking
    the crysallis and bloom;
    Those prone to melancholy
    know just desolation and doom;
    I wish there was an elixir to
    overcome this sense
    of perpetual gloom!
    Perhaps empathy is the remedy,
    before it all consumes!

    ©discoveringself
    22.10.2020

  • reneewolfcrowdenunez 13w

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #readwriteunite #writersbay @pathway_of_words @childauthor_345 @ghoulfrost
    #melancholyc

    Alone in our room
    I hear him move
    Alone in the next...

    The pain between us infecting the air
    With an eerie silence
    Growing
    To a sickening distance
    Like a cancer on fire...

    The friction now felt
    Excruciating
    Bloody
    Left raw..

    Unlike the days it brought us to a peak
    And watched sunset
    Turn to black heaven
    Studded with diamonds

    In each others arms..

    The dark now
    Shared through a wall..

    Enough bad decisions
    Enacted on the part of both
    Leaving us now
    So weakened
    A mere fall
    Seems to have left us
    Torn apart

    Is it hopelessly broken?

    The ghost of our love
    Floats around us
    Distantly 
    Yet, whispering in our ears
    Of a potential
    That's lost its way..

    Grown stagnant 
    Like a pond
    Without an outlet 
    And no movement
    Through the years. 

    With my heart
    I hold so tightly
    To the wisp
    Of what once was there..
    But with my head
    I want to ease away gently
    Afraid of the fragility of our souls
    And how easily they tear..

    If I hold on so fiercly
    Yet terrified
    To stay like this..
    Where I only grow old..
    I must to myself
    Also admit
    I am engulfed
    Mostly
    By this ghost of our love
    And my inability
    To let it go..

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    *THE GHOST OF OUR LOVE

    If I hold on so fiercly
    Yet terrified
    To stay like this
    Where I only grow old..
    I must to myself
    Also admit
    I am engulfed
    Mostly
    By this ghost of our love
    And my inability
    To let it go..


    ©reneewolfcrowdenunez

  • bclark2681 13w

    Melancholy

    Art, no matter the abstract,
    Is an intoxicating aspect of
    A tired, melancholy soul,
    Blissfully leading our woeful
    Heart in a relieving direction
    ©bclark2681

  • rita_nova 13w

    It always is harder to pretend as if everything's fine, when in reality, they are broken, feeling melancholic and forlorn deep inside.

    © rita_nova | October 22, 2020

  • stelly 13w

    #melancholyc #writersbay #autumn
    Pic credit to the rightful owner

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    Maybe you don't want to leave
    But it was written to happened like this,
    When autumn calls
    Like fallen leaves you falls,
    Where the wind carry your soul
    Far-far away from this world,
    Heaven is calling your name
    Only memories lives in frame,
    Sorrows can no longer touch your heart
    You are free like a flying bird,
    To a place where your ancestor and love ones lives
    I pray your soul may rest in peace.
    ©stelly

  • carrie09 13w

    Her Lost summer

    @writersbay #melancholyc

    She woken up one October's morn
    the sun peeped in at breaking dawn
    roads deserted, shutters pulled down .
    still eerie looks shrouded her town

    Where everybody's gone ?
    An answer she got none
    they all had deserted her
    forpined herself , bereft of hope
    and deep melancholy ,
    trapped in her own dark destiny
    No one can see.

    Then autumn air brushing her hair
    silently whispered in her ears
    Her summer's days have gone.

    She saw those shredded straying leaves ,
    lying around like brittle bones,
    crumpled beneath her feet
    Then tears sprinkle on October's rain
    trinkled on her aged dry wrinkly skin .
    as loneliness befriends her soul
    as she stared in heartbeats count
    on twilight's dusk and curtains fall
    bemoaning the countdown.

    Cloaked in black, she now bemourned
    In elegies lamented songs
    Her lost summer she pined for thee
    In her eyes I still can see
    When she painting melancholy
    In walls of down lanes memories.

    pic.credit to rightful owner

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    Her lost summer

    Cloaked in black, she now bemoaned
    In elegies lamented songs
    Her lost summer she pined for thee
    In her eyes still I can see
    painting her deep melancholy
    On walls of down lanes memories





    ©carolinelamurong09

  • 300roses 13w

    The Candle Flame

    Life is like a candle flame.
    In the beginning, the flame burns brilliantly.
    While it burns,
    its light has given warmth & hope to the lives of those around it.
    For the despondent,
    their hearts are comforted.
    For the spirited,
    their hearts are delighted.
    For the hopeless,
    their hope is illuminated.
    For the hopeful,
    their hope grows brighter than ever.
    Yet as life would have it,
    there comes a point where even the brightest light would diminish &
    fade away.
    Melancholy begins to fill the air,
    as the flame starts to dwindle.
    Gradually,
    the once vibrant flame becomes smaller and smaller,
    till it burns no more.
    This is life.
    Though the flame has extinguished,
    its vibrance would continue to live in the hearts of those it has touched.

    ©300roses

  • manishajha1987 13w

    They say “whatever happens, happens for good”
    But now I understood
    the best thing who stays forever is YOU
    So first be friends to yourself, apart from the people around you..

    After being own’s friend, spread happiness
    and not the sorrows
    Give all that which people can’t borrow

    Life is like an anomaly,
    Sometimes flawless, sometimes melancholy

    So make your presence felt, with your laughter & chatter patter
    Be the one, whom we lost yesterday .. our dearest @kehta_hai_joker

    #melancholyc #writingcontest #creativearena

    We miss you @kehta_hai_joker

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    Life is like an anomaly
    Sometimes flawless,
    sometimes melancholy...

    So make your presence felt,
    with your laughter &
    chatter patter...

    Be the one,
    whom we lost yesterday
    our dearest @kehta_hai_joker


    ©manishajha1987

  • bhawna__ 13w

    _________________________________________



    कही सुनी से ज्यादा आखों देखी पे यकीन,
    इसलिए उनका नूर हमसे कभी खफा नहीं होता।।

    बात जुबां तक पहुंचे तो वो मोहब्बत कैसी ,
    राबता मुकम्मल हो तो वो बयान नहीं होता ।।

    आजाद सोच का आशिक झुकी पलकों में है कैद,
    अगर इश्क की हो तोहमत तो जोकर रिहा नहीं होता ।।

    ©kehta_hai_joker




    ❣⚦
    ����
    ---------------------------------------------------------------------


    And he said to me.. "jao smart uncle ji ki afsar bitiya.. tmhare liy kch likha hai.."

    He gifted me this beautiful poem..
    After seeing my blurred reflexion..

    Vo shayari bht achi krta tha..
    Har kisi ko apni pyar bhari shayari ka taufa diya krta th..
    Apne har ek pal me..
    Vo khusiyan bataa krta tha..

    #kindness #love #peace #divine
    #melancholyc @mirakee @writersnetwork
    #kehta_hai_joker
    #humblebee

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    रिहा हुआ भी तो डूबने के लिए,
    ये राहत भी है तो चाहत जैसी ।।
    ©kehta_hai_joker

  • joybirdpoetry 13w

    Silence of melancholy

    The birds do not sing
    their praises of a new dawn
    the brook does not babble
    as it flows to the sea
    the leaves do not rustle
    as they sway to the breeze
    the rain does not patter
    as it falls to the ground
    the waves do not crash
    as they rush to the shore
    and so begins
    the silence of melancholy

    Joy
    ©joybirdpoetry

  • landscape 13w

    Funeral

    One day, the black death suit will be mine
    and the flowers knocking
    the door of my grave
    will say rest in peace,
    I will manage to hold the whole bouquet
    and someday even those flowers will wilt;
    Dead will accompany the dead soon
    in a lifeless body suit and a breathless tune,
    they will share my death suit equally.

    ©coral

  • the_moustached_poet 13w

    unspoken

    melancholic minds-
    reddish sky with specks of white
    and
    returning birds
    to their home, their warm paradise
    instilled poetry in me,
    unspoken words found their rhymes!

    ©the_moustached_poet

  • the_moustached_poet 13w

    nostalgic

    infusing nostalgia
    into the veins of solitude,
    the reunion left in him
    a sense of joy and melancholy!

    ©the_moustached_poet

  • pen_to_paper 13w

    And perhaps I left the door open, so you could walk right through. Like you always do wearing a smile as big as the ocean. With your backpack and your keys in your hand. How was your day you would say. I guess as the day peeked around every corner I did not bother to think what if. I guess I thought it would just be the same as yesterday, well yes they change like the tides of the sea but sitting at my desk covered in notes it never crossed my mind to think, what if. What if, he does not come walking through the door. Then comes the call, "Ma'am, John there was an accident." "He didn't make it." The words strikes me like lightning and then a cloud forms in my sky ready to burst open. It's not true I whisper to myself. It's not true. I think about everything I didn't say yesterday, today, everyday. Silence takes over and then melancholy walks through the door, walks right over and sits next to me on the cold, wet floor.

    #melancholyc

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    Melancholy

    //And perhaps I left the door open, so you could walk right through//
    ©pen_to_paper

  • silverjade69 13w

    Melancholy

    I'm overwhelmed with sadness. My body aches so I tremble. Chaos rambles through my mind. My pensive mood is causing havoc on my emotions. I have to sit in the rain to hide the tears,
    I don't know why cause no one really pays attention anyway.
    ©silverjade69

  • taekook_maknae 14w

    Sun gave me shadow
    But yet it's dark
    Cz it's the deputy of my melancholy!


    ©taekook_maknae