#octoberodyssey

34 posts
  • daphnae 12w

    God. I can't help scribbling. Last perhaps, under my #octoberodyssey

    @asphodel_ Damn. I miss you.❤

    #oozingoneliners

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    I would forever taste the wait for your return
    And mine baked in those salty sugars,

    For your lies
    Rhymed often more than my teary poems.
    ©saya__

  • daphnae 12w

    Two tricubes. Ending my #octoberodyssey with this.
    Idk if this makes any sense in this entire world.... Bear with it.

    #mirakee #wn #pod #tricubec

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    My bones shake,
    Suffocate,
    Scream, that cage.

    Cage of war
    Beholding
    Loudest peace.

    Peace of your
    Unending lies
    Burying me.

    I lie there
    My bones wither
    Creak and crack.

    They hush down
    My blown mind
    To squeak round.

    You smirk sly,
    Spy, try and,

  • daphnae 12w

    The blue ocean, engulfing the lap of the sand, was all my eyes craved to bide on. They induced in me, through the agile dyad of pupils, the sense of belonging to the greater world. The vastness of the sky when I look up, the sea when down; inspired every hair on my skin to be a part of their bourn-less extant. The pristine green on the first day of summer, had always besieged me with their freshness amidst the oldest leaves of the evergreen banyan. The serene sensation of existing among the nature had always left chills on my skin, I touch to feel the same ecstasy once more and they never find an end. The sanguine shade with the tint of yellow, which my heart captured during the dusk and dawn, had baked me sweet of dreams and fantasies, pouring the honey of hopes in my soul.

    I continued the hunt for colours, for I needed to release each of their drop on my metaphors to rhyme. I stored every shade in the same vessel, my ink, waiting for the rainbow to emerge after I add every hue to it. On the day I dipped the last colour white, from the most beautiful dream of mine, the ink of mine started shaking, terribly. For a moment, it looked like a rainbow but soon my hallucination passed. The blue skies with crumbled clouds rumbled the darkest of greys, the oceans ebbed leaving the shore of black sand. The leaves started wilting on their own dark hue, the eclipsed sun shone brighter than any sunny day. I started bleeding black, of every colour. Since that day, my ink has known darkness and kind. And the first thing my paper felt on them was : Darkness is the excess of light.
    ©saya__

    @raika Know that I love you. Thanks a lot.
    @titanium_butterfly Thank you so much for staying. Love you.
    @the_frozenn_heart I love the prompt so much.❤ The prompt was to write about anything I want to redefine. I redefined DARKNESS.

    @writersnetwork
    #mirakee #wn #pod #octoberodyssey #daadisbae #cloudc

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    Darkness

    (n.) The excess of light and colours

  • daphnae 12w

    Time flies, just like the hummingbirds from our window. And memories stay, somehow digging their way up once our senses come into contact with their chattels. Some words still, can weave the same ecstasy we felt, when we heard or read them for the first time. And today, of all the other days, is different. The misspelled tattoo which I have been carrying on my arms as a mistake, I am admiring it with my tears. It's been so long, but I can still breathe the air filled with my anger that day, for you ruined the tattoo on my arm.

    A hot, summer day, cradling the sanguine zephyrs, swiftly blowing the strands off my loose bun. I went to you, eagerness dripping off along my sweat. Eagerly waiting for my first tattoo done, with my pen name: Saya! I saw your troubled face, once I entered. Eyes, dancing along with tides of confusion, and they stopped by me, as if I was the shore. You made me sit, and started with your work. That huge machine, took my life out, until you assured me, telling me about my dress. I couldn't believe the sight I saw, after you were done. I still remember my tears flowing incessantly and you panicking like I already stopped breathing. I remember my scream, "You spelled it wrong! That's why I said, I hate tattoos. And I hate you." And I left.

    What still makes me laugh, the same way I did that day, when you came with a sorry note to me, is: I never had any clue how you found me, and your eyeballs still danced staring at the floor until they made their way into mine. I grasped your shaking hands, until they shook mine. The current passed, and is passing now through my skin, tingling each and every pore. And somehow, I felt you deeper, beyond my eyes. I slammed the door on your face.
    Little did I know, that place beyond my eyes, was my heart.
    Little did I know, I would never get to drown in your eyes again.
    Little did I know, I would still be writing about you with your blurry face I carry in my memories.
    And the strangest thing is, I adore the misspelled name on my arms: it's like the moon full of scars, still being the reason for many people being poets.
    ©saya__

    #zephyr #andthestrangestthing #mirakee #wn #pod #octoberodyssey #blurc @writersnetwork

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  • daphnae 12w

    Rant series.

    Although aapke rant series ke aage yeh kuch bhi nahin hain @felix__anima

    #oozingoneliners #octoberodyssey

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    I knit them a sweater for warmth, unsewing the threads from my favourite frock of metaphors which has worn out by the chemicals of their harsh words.
    ©saya__

  • daphnae 12w

    THINGS I NEVER SAID

    • I started tugging the curtain off my coffin, since the day I was meant to relish the flavour of my existence.

    • The full moon still talks about how you wipe your tears off on the other side of the world; because the shadow of your own domicile hindered your favourite muse.

    • My bones tingle every night, just to ask my skin if it's breathing. My lips ache watching the last resemblance of dusk, while smiling for the sake of the world whole day long.

    • My pounding heart always wanted you to hold it right, when you felt my bosom in that unlit corner of your room.

    • I have my own window, which I have sewn with my rhymes and phrases. But the rust in the hinges grow stronger everytime they say "writing cannot be your passion".

    • I am tired of people thinking that just because my face flashes a smile everytime, they can pierce me with their barbs.

    • I am tired of locking the door to shed my tears. Tired of the creaking sound I make, while using up all my energy, still not enough to make my screams quiet. I am tired of the jerks I get in the middle of the dark night, when even the pillow felt uncomfortable to be with.

    • I ended up being a girl comprised of beguiling butterflies of metaphors on the sweet tarpaulin of mine, and at times when I write 'fiction' under my proses written with the darkest of my ink, my tears try to smudge it off.
    ©saya__

    Thank you so much @writersbay for this challenge. I feel so better now.�� #tinsc #mirakee #wn #pod #octoberodyssey

    • My lips often fail to voice my gratitude from the deepest hoard of my heart to each and everyone who made me stretch up my lips, without my struggle.
    @writersnetwork

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  • daphnae 12w

    Does it makes sense? *-*
    Why am I so stupid? *-*
    #ffossil I ruined your prompt. ��������

    #octoberodyssey #oozingoneliners

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    And sometimes, your bourns heave the infinity, which the spaces in your freedom sighed.
    ©saya__

  • daphnae 12w

    Wandering around the dusty corners of my soul, you watched the gathering layers of sandy words heaped off my skin, just because I chose to remain idle. My lips twitch, craving to sing the unsung lullabies you wrote and left for me in the attic. But, the lumps in my throat repudiate, consecutively obstructing the voice out of my caged heart. I scream in pain, but only the papers in my table could hear it all. The tears dried in thier lap, still rhymes over my metaphors. And I watch them through the burning candle, how strong they would keep the fire. The flames jerk out in blue, and instantly, anyone would know the answer.

    Keeping track of the heartbreaks I encountered, was no less than counting the falling leaves in the autumn. The dead butterflies tucked inside those heavenly, heavy books... I feel them lurching with the ink, being smudged on their body. My hands tremble with the thought of me being related to them. Pain didn't scare me anymore, the bliss preceding it did. I have walked on the sharpest shards of the broken glass, which once carried the elixir of expectations. My feet have spurted the darkest of my blood, slowly mingling down with the tiny drops of expectations splattered.

    //And they waited, for their cure to find them. Searched every sand resting on the roads of the city. And they dried.//
    ©saya__

    @writersnetwork @mirakee
    #pod #octoberodyssey #elixirc #mirakee #dustyc

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    //I have walked on the sharpest shards of the broken glass, which once carried the elixir of expectations.//
    ©saya__

  • daphnae 13w

    Golden. Brown. The autumn shades paint my entire city, as much as I am painted with them with scintillas of silver all around. I remember the day, when the first stroke of brown was brushed down on my soul.

    //A bright, sunny day and I was hopping from the pink blossoms to the azure sky, from the whitest cloud to the evergreen valley, from the shimmering grass to the corner of the river capital. My pen twirled over, fast enough to weave a new poem about my favourite summer. I found my shirt stained with fresh mud, as I write about the last raindrops overlapping the ones being absorbed. Flowing through the slope, they would finally find a corner to abode their extant in filling their dry voids.

    The dusk escaped through the disarrayed clouds and the moon glided above, clearly, without any shade hindering it. Venting the canopy of the grey clouds, the moonlight sprinkled its essence. The leaves danced along the moonlit zephyr, while I was busy composing the next song they will jingle upon. And, I came to a halt when I saw the branches getting rid of the leaves offshore. The moon light was not really enough for me to cognize their colour but I could feel them brown, and dry. Nights passed, with me sitting beside the same window, watching the once-green trees bare and black. I didn't cry, didn't smile either.

    I kept on twitching my poems, for them to get baked fresh, inducing the aroma of rhymes in the air, when the winter paints me white.//
    ©saya__

    Finally. @piyuldwivedi @secret_letters
    @writersnetwork

    #mirakee #wn #pod #octoberodyssey

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    And the autumn began, losing the tight grip of the summer and with the kiss of winter.

  • daphnae 13w

    The clock never stopped ticking, as much as my heart never stopped beating. With every second that passed along, my pillow would soak more and more of my tears. The warm tears, fighting with the cold pillow... My mind, once again, races towards the moments which ripped my heart. The moments, I thought I forgot, which I tried to forget. They stood there, as a strong pillar of probing questions to my extant and its meaning. I continue, finding the answers which came in the form of snubs and slights from everyone but my own people. My own family, stitching my personality with comparisons. I believed in myself, more than them, I was sure. But, people won't make jibes about a single failure everytime I tried to argue with them. They won't, until I committed a sin while failure gripped me tight.

    The dawn whispered me about the end of my solitude. Three angels waiting for me, on the other side of the phone. Will I get to share with them my efforts? The efforts to stop the ticking clock inside my soul? Will they add to the mountain of judgements, just like others did? Tears managed to flow through my lips stretched up, when I felt the warm embrace in their words. And finally, they explained to me, that you live life not for yourself but for the people who care about you, for the people who love you. They explained that, in this mortal world, the most beautiful immortal existence was the ocean of friendship. Which brews the beans of love, right into your heart and your heart clutches it hard while the storms of mishaps shook you off.
    ©saya__

    (Non fiction)
    #mirakee #wn #pod #octoberodyssey #elixirc
    @writersnetwork @mirakee
    Your mental health, is more important than any fashion or trend the world is following.

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    //Friends are the elixir to every malady of the world, being induced in you.//
    ©saya__

  • daphnae 13w

    This is raw and rough. Please don't judge. Take care everyone.
    #jandjforever #mirakee #wn #octoberodyssey

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    The world, in which we live in, has been revolving around certain rules more than it revolves around the sun. The first and the most obvious is, anyone who has existed here must confront death. Death, is not an end but the genesis for a new-fangled existence to something.

    Every being has to grow old, and once the time comes, has to leave their transient abode to an eternal silhouette. The flower withers after weeks of spreading its essence everywhere. After wilting, they could either remain in your diary soaking your melancholic ink and pictures, breathing against your tears. Or, they could decipher themselves into mother earth for being an inextricable part of such a colossal force. Or, they could let themselves be squeezed to linger around the edges of our memories.

    Likewise, a person as and more special as the flower, won't leave once death embraces them. They would be the sillage to the memories, you cherish until you transcend to be one among them. They would be etched between our stars, in the sky without clouds. The stars, we could never forget to have a look at, even after an overwhelming day. The stars, for assuring us to keep going. They would breathe everytime our heart beats along their resonant memories. They would smile when our lips would stretch and curve upwards while voicing their name. They would become a part our very own extant, an abstract of our soul.

    They never leave, they stay with you among their words and emotions you adored.
    ©saya__

  • daphnae 13w

    I fumbled with my words, my lips voicing the deepest silence suppressed under myriads of lumps on my throat. It was time to share, share him with the world. And only if I knew, one person could be the fountain to shower you with so many memories, or ideas. How one person could change the way you looked upon the world with: vision they say.

    I begin, "He used to tickle me with his eyes, now with his memories. His smile was that unsung lullaby I would paint my sky with to fill in my eyes before sinking into your dreams. The next time you say something about my smile, try listening to the tune, it syncs along his composition. While you would adore the crescent new moon, he would confront me with the conundrums revolving around the dark void, lurking behind the shadows on its remaining. While you would cherish the pristine green of the leaves, he would crave to touch the calloused and parched barks of the sturdy trunks. You would chase the butterflies of happiness, he would play with the fireflies glowing off the mires of melancholy. His eyes weren't the ones who would compell you to drown in, they would force you to fly, fly beyond the thousand skies holding you down. Be it the beguiling rainbows or the appalling thunderstorms, he would wrap his arms before the blink of his eyes. That much, was his countenance to my existence. I tugged in poems on the corners of my diary, he taught me to encase the diary inside my oscillating ribs. He.. he.. wa-.. was... different..." I don't stop.
    ©saya__

    This might continue under #himandmypoetry
    Bear with this.
    @writersnetwork @mirakee
    #mirakee #wn #pod #octoberodyssey #lullabyc #melancholyc
    Inspired by @shashagilbert_ 's recent post.��

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    He could be the grimmest of the stars, but I won't abandon the search for him among the bright crowd.

  • daphnae 14w

    Sweet Summer

    The crickets bribed the moon,
    To rest a little longer among the clouds,
    Just to sing a little longer
    Than the usual short-summer nights.

    The moon gleamed a bit more,
    As their chirps draped the dark.
    The fireflies added to the stars
    As one could see from the ark.

    The croaking frogs embraced
    The advancing rain among their extant.
    The aroma of sweet nectar
    Ready for the honeybees, filled the air.

    The moonlight faded,
    As the clouds overtook their sight.
    The crickets rested,
    Hoping for one another night
    Under the blissful moonlight.

    The fireflies too,
    Along with the eccentric stars
    Were gulped down
    By the first rays of dawn.

    The sun, then whispered
    A 'goodmorning' to the sky.
    In a trice, the morning would fly.
    Fly into the mid-day,
    And let the world sweat for
    Another sweet, slumber.
    ©saya__

  • jnaiwalker 14w

    Why do you sound so
    far away? Why do you sound
    like you’ve swallowed a
    sea?

    Does something have you?
    (Something has you, then.)
    Why aren’t
    there any words now?

    Tell me what you’re near
    and I will find you. I hear
    you’ve swallowed a sea.

    ©jnaiwalker

  • daphnae 14w

    Hundreds of thoughts clogging my mind, as it fails to whip them down in the paper. I watched over my window hoping to find new metaphors hiding along the cobblestones and leaves, the zephyrs dancing with the sky in the backdrop, the birds soaring along the clouds grey and white. Dubbing the colours, I watched as they lost their essence and certitude to my heart. The brownish red on the leafy greens, seem to embrace the autumns nevermore. The azure shade of the sky wasn't that intriguing to make me crave for the wings once again. In a trice, everything looked dull as if you inhaled every colour with your breath; the only difference this time was you refused to exhale.

    My poetries were the tomb of broken strings, which once bound us as the shadow mingling with the body in the darkness. The strings, which once used to play the cadence of our entwined breaths. The tomb echoes your last words, through the husky landline phone. The sound resonates myriad pictures suffocating under the heaps of numerous sunsets we shared, every dawn once scattering its presence among the tiny spaces betwixt us. The tomb perched on the grave, I've been cremating since the day you left. Every new day, would there be another layer of our memories for me to bury. As I cremate some, I keep aside some another; for me to live in those moments once more. "I will leave you behind some other day," I would say and continue along with the bondage of your grip over my soul.

    And through my nights, I dream of digging up the grave to find you and me giggling over the telephone in the phone booths; of our romance bridging our breached streets. A dream, which took form of a nightmare, lately.
    ©saya__

    Highly inspired by @souravmudgal and @laus_deo ��
    @writersnetwork @mirakee

    #picturec #shadowc #mirakee #wn #pod #octoberodyssey

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  • daphnae 14w

    (His=Her)

    Prompt by @piyuldwivedi and @qafiya
    (Will try everyone else's soon ��) THANK YOU SO MUCH.��

    #octoberodyssey #oozingoneliners

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    Maybe every poet holds onto a beautiful lie to sprinkle his rhymes and metaphors on,

    But in the process all he could do is dig the void in his suffocating truths.
    ©saya__

  • daphnae 14w

    I thought nothing could hurt me more than your tears,



    Then I heard my heart breaking into further pieces each day, once they saw you sobbing under the facade of your smiles.
    ©saya__

  • daphnae 14w

    The world was drowning in their slumber, and I was floating around the corners deprived of the moonlight that night. Slowly enough, I could feel sleep kissing me gently and embracing me tight. I opened my eyes, after a while to find myself lying among the grass; the moonlight beamed even more. I stared at the moon, somehow closer, brighter. "Why so?" I tried to collect the pieces of the light drowse left, turned to my right and closed my eyes, once again. A moment later, I opened them to hazily find someone walking towards me.

    I watched his feet perfectly inclining towards the sky and making a zero degree on the earth, rapidly. The trousers, stretching around the corners of his knees. A grey T shirt, with spots of a colour I couldn't identify. I thought I was colour blinded for a moment, and my doubts took the form of a mirror when I saw his face, gleaming with the moonlight on him. His lips, were as if they could stir thousands of galaxies together. His skin absorbing every scintilla of light falling on them, turning them into aurora borealis on his never ending sky. Jawlines: the nebulas cropped in a perfect way. My sleepy eyes were observing every curve, every tangent on him being trapped; but I could barely let my eyes move further once they stopped by his. His, were the foliage to the autumn branches of mine, the blooming lillies to my awakened grave, the unhackneyed stars to my parched cosmos, the answers to my abridged existence. With his every step, my eyes longed for more of his. To search the cityscape of my rhymes lost in the black holes of today's wilting poetries. He took a seat beside me, our skin collided like the disks under earth, causing a terrible earthquake inside my ribs...

    //As I pen this down, I try to find a beautiful conclusion to this; when I heard a whisper in my ears, "How can you attach a conclusion to something which never ends?"//
    ©saya__

    (Wrote this in a hurry. Forgive me.)
    @writersnetwork @mirakee

    #abstractc #mirakee #wn #pod #octoberodyssey #moonandstars #him

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    //Moonlight smells like the person, you once shared your moon with.//
    ©saya__

  • daphnae 14w

    It's been a long time, since I picked up the pen and scribbled you among my proses. A long time, since I rested amidst their warmth. I watch the cracks on my ceiling, with two shades darker and less. The minuscule branches, breaking out from the centre. The voids which shares the dark now, once were painted white. Did they ever know they would be detached forever? The pain of separation between the molecules adhered so close to each other, was there pain when they knew it was time to let loose?

    The cracks in the ceiling, reminded me of our romance, of us. Won't the flowers, which once bloomed for your confession, wither away after we know each other all over? Won't the ink which I used to tickle down the papers with our love, fade away after us reading them more than a thousand times? Won't the scratches we etched in each other's heart, fill up with hope after we sing lullabies together again? Won't the edges of the diary consisting our memories, get blunt after thousands of clashes with our laughters? Won't the dreams we once dreamt together, take vague details after we step ahead to grab them in our lives? Won't the fairytales we related our story to, sneek out from our mind after we create our own medley of the chimes our love induced?

    //Every conflicts come to an end. Mine did too, with your eyes drowning into mine just to answer the conundrums of my catharsis. Changes happen every moment, since we have existed, in and around us. But you only need one person, to hold your heart while you were filling the gaps between their fingers.//
    ©saya__

    #octoberodyssey #lullabyc
    (Bear with this.)

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  • daphnae 16w

    Dear you,
    I still remember my lonely nights, draped in confusion. When the ticking clock reminded me of my constant heartbreaks, back to back. I still remember my abandoned soul, roaming here and there, collecting flakes of love and storing them in the granary of my heart. I craved for shooting stars in my night sky to wish for a miracle beside me. There were times when I changed myself for 'them' to love me, when actually they just wanted someone else.

    But you happened. Happened to my life, more than, to me. Your roguish giggles and jokes made their way through my ears till it reached their abode: my heart. As soon as my granary started brimming from your chatters and those condemned memories, my heart started blowing balloons of confusions, of fear all over my mind. But never did I realize when you could burst them, with so much delicacy and implicity. When your touches seeped through my skin, and connected my heart in a trice. You grasped my soul, with your ardent gazes and fondles. You unladed my silage of nightmares, filled it with your blissful presence. You etched 'us' in 'our' night sky, portrayed the only miracle: me, you said. And you made me love myself, with a completely different perspective, I was the same in your different way.

    You collected the autumn leaves from the ground, refurbished my spring in your way. And it didn't took me any longer to surrender my heart to you, when you conceded me your soul.

    From,
    The one who admires you.
    (The most, but it's a secret.��)
    ©saya__

    @drownie__ (When I have nothing to write, only you strike.)

    Dear readers, don't judge this. Raw. Completely. #octoberodyssey

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