315 posts
  • vjoy18 4m

    I really want to participate in the contest. But since I couldn't, I decided to just post this one. For me, expressing about family is really hard, so it did took me long time to think about. But I hope it is good, though I can't add more ideas and just want to post it instantly.
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #writingcommunity #pod #home
    #personification #house #family

    Read More


    When our home is lively and full of energy
    It is roaring with laughters as we're happy
    The echoes of silence left our house
    And our home is happy together with us
    It is as furius as the members fought along
    It is raging with anger
    As if a thunderbolt hit our home
    But still standing firm
    Even though the family's breaking down.
    While the insides were filled with sobs
    My house also cries.


  • lone_dolphin 15m

    A house: A home to be!

    I'm not cemented , I'm no mansion,
    No match,no fit for a king's ransom,
    In me - None shall find an arcade,
    No gargoyles on my balustrade!!!
    Hear mine story 'Tragedy of Decades'!!

    My creation,I owe, to crafty parents:
    Woven by beings devoid of hands,
    Little craftsmen, their existence mere,
    Busy in their own world they were ,
    I'd been woven out of leaves 'n twines!

    Yes.. I'm a nest atop a coconut tree,
    Their holy abode : a home to be,
    I'm all bare, no roof there is,
    But they were content- eternal bliss;
    They never complained, never hissed!

    All weaving done - the finishing touch,
    Comforting tufts of grass,hay,as such
    Ensuring the kids don't get hurt,
    Due to unspecified materials and dirt,
    Not the slightest or mildest of a cut!!!

    To God : their safety, the mother prays,
    Wished , nothing evil came their ways,
    Me : I awaited for the little eggs,
    The hatchlings to take birth,
    Bringing forth to parents- sweet mirth!

    The auspicious day: it finally arrived,
    Moment for which they long strived,
    Tiny woolly furry balls: they screeched,
    Musical sermon of innocence preached
    Divine bonding with parents beamed!!

    The following day : it rained,
    A bad omen against the trend ,
    A stripy collosal monster outta hole,
    It seemed hungry, food it's goal,
    A slight smile : his intentions sly.

    And he entwined spirally 'bout the tree,
    Absence of limbs, hindrance free,
    The parents from distance screeched,
    Hatchlings :their gaze at 'em transfixed
    The predator set for his prey winced!!

    The crows, all their life in vain,
    That hollow crest of pain,
    Till date yet to drain,
    The joy of parenthood -
    All in a moment slain!

    (Aindrila Chakraborty)

    /////Herein, I've attempted to portray one of my sad memories of a rainy day few years ago in the form of a poem. It's all felt there.This took place in my garden's only coconut tree.The crows left thereafter and never returned . I'd have done the same if I were them./////

    Thank you for the kind read

  • highfriction 1d

    The Timbre In My Voice

    The new owners speak such promise it makes my old eaves swell with pride. I watch the young couple move in with their boxes and crates and cases and bags and feel the thrill of excitement at the prospect of new life. Their sudden arrival startled the surrounding nightlife and awakened the sleeping giants. I watch them breach my boundaries putting up blinds and blocking my view. Hidden from all outside, even moonlight is restricted from my interiors. The forest dwellers who had long since settled into my dark corners seeking warmth and peace of protection were startled by the sudden invasion and fled. Not out of instinct but fear. Being long term occupants they had grown smug and lethargic.

    My new owners settled into the open spaces, oblivious to the flood of fleeing inhabitants their presence triggered. I watched them unpacking implementations, tools and utensils, all designed to improve human cohabitation. What are their applications? What purpose might they serve? The new owners performed some menial undertakings, brief flurries of activity, mostly to improve their own standing, then nothing. The space they inhabited quickly encroached into areas recently vacated by the previous occupants. Then smells started permeating my ancient timbers. Horrible tart smells that stung the eyes and hung in the air. A silence descended onto my being. A silence so deep I think about their tools and utensils. A silence so deep I wonder what they are up to.

    Dank acrid wet smells emanate from the darkest alcoves within my walls. Foul excretions that stink worse than any forest dweller! My eyes are not only covered but are now sealed against the fresh air that blows outside. The human occupants now tear down my inner walls and burn them within my hearth for warmth. I no longer call them my new owners. Even the previous occupants, as unwelcome as they were, were more tolerable. They at least had the good sense to spread their droppings over a large area. These current inhabitants leave steaming piles of faecal matter wherever they see fit! They didn't ask my permission or seek my protection before moving in.

    Do they deserve my protection?

    The moving van that brought them to my front door has long since disappeared. The initial flurry of activity has died and been replaced by an inertia. A staleness that consumes as it feeds. My outer walls shriek as more and more of their inner compatriots are sacrificed and consumed to warm the cool skin of the human interlopers. Did they come here seeking a new life, or were they fleeing one seeking them? It is rumoured that the moving van that brought them here was parked many days ago in the darkest part of the woods and set alight and then walked away from. It was left to burn of its own accord. It should have burnt out long ago but I've been talking to the wind and it has agreed to keep the coals turning long enough for me to decide what happens next.

    The burning remains of the moving van have become a meeting point for all the forest creatures evicted from my domicile when the humans first entered. And the steady rumbling heat is a welcome respite to the approaching winter. The previous inhabitants have been very patient in letting me come to a calculated resolution. The ancient timbers will wait until the next full moon for the current occupiers to clean out their droppings and replace what they have taken. If nothing improves the wind will carry the embers of the burning moving van to the splintered outer timbers still remaining around my skirting boards after the humans destroyed my balustrade.

    The air has become caustic. The growing stench of excretions have soiled my very heart. My previous occupants never left me in such disrepair. Indeed the very fact of their existence meant movement and circulation. And their late-night chitter chatter was almost a rhythmic hum in itself. My old eaves have been home to these woods for as long as there have been scrub fires and meteor strikes. The old majestic timbers towering over me are in agreement with the ones still within me that our lives will not end by human malfeasance. Intentional or not, it is not a future we see for this forest. If there is to be sacrifice it will be by our own hand and not by human disruption. Even the evicted forest creatures are in agreement with this. And for these two current intruders testing my patience with their constant defiance?

    I owe them nothing.


    This is my entry in the personification challenge

  • indheevar 3d

    #personification #house #pod #writersnetwork #mirakee

    He is in his middle ages. Wrinkled and weathered at some corners but still strong and healthy. When all of us are present, I could feel his proud laugh and joy. He would held his head high and protect our smiles, and laugh with our silliest jokes. He would even have a way with our dog. I always knew they were going to be best buddies. Not only the dog, all our pets and plants, he loves them as he loves us. I have seen many a times how the plants and pets caress his walls and pillars. He would pet them and listem to them as he would do to us. He would be the only listener at 3 am's, when you need to cry over some truths and lies, he would let you curl in his corner and hug you with his walls. And when every one of us have to leave him, he waits for us.... only for us, along with our pets and plants. I know what they do at those times, they talk about us.. about how to make us happy and how to make us alive.

    Image credit to respective owners.

    Read More

    He always waits for us..

  • seraiah_writes 3d


    You have witnessed 'em all,
    O, walls.
    You have dried my tears,
    O, my bed sheets.
    O, joyful, smiling angels in the painting,
    I know you always saw my silent crying.
    If only...
    If only this heart of mine could break the 'walls,'
    And these feet could run up to you... to
    If only you were my
    House's walls,
    Bed sheets,
    Then my burdened heart, in spite the 'walls,'
    May as well sprint to a compassionate
    Like in a reunion between
    A loving father
    And a prodigal son.


  • alicejune 4d

    The Mighty

    "Water is life giving, water appears clear. Through persistence, it can shape rocks and caverns, year after year. Yet, simply simple, its' elements are quite austere. Transparency, one amongst the qualities I truly revere.
    I envy the many characteristics of the great H20. Wherever it is, it will either mold or will flow! Most of all is its greatest ability, to merely adapt! Actually, that's one quality at which I am quite apt! Suppose I too should be taking pride; as I am also beautiful to watch and a lot of fun to ride!"

  • beingpoetic17 4d

    Mr. Banyan Tree, the Swing and Me

    It was a day like never before,
    Everything was packed,
    Mom's favorite kitchen wares to Dad's personal teacup,
    Ron's comics to Sarah's Games.

    "Mom, what about the swing? I want to take the swing also."
    Mom and Dad looked at each other a look of sorrow passed between them.
    "No Ron, we cannot take swing to the city. We won't have space for it.

    Ron ran to Mr. Banyan Tree outside where the swing was. He knelt beside the trunk and looked at the swing for a long time. I could see my friend Banyan trying to sway in hope of cheering the kid. Inside, I did too. I tried to reach Sarah so that she wouldn't cry for not being able to take her cot with her. I tried to reach Mom as she came back and forth in kitchen even though she had already packed everything. She made it look like she was checking whether nothing 'Worthy' is left or not. But I knew, she was trying to assure me that I had the best Kitchen ever by caressing the walls and tables. Somewhere in one of the rooms a piece of me crumbled with what you humans might call as emotions.

    It was hardest for Dad, I knew him from the day he was born. Small little jello to a big responsible man! Like a parent, I swelled at his achievements. He is finally going to the city just like his Papa wanted him to. He was looking out window with one hand on the wall. Probably reminiscing his life in this house. I swayed the curtains trying to reach him, soothe him. To tell him it's okay. I will be fine. I have Mr. Banyan Tree, the swing and the memories to give me company.

    If I could have, I would have hugged the jolly little family tightly and kissed everyone a happy future. It was a day like never before. Everything human like unraveled inside me while they took off in their car. To the city. But I have the memories.

  • the_darmin 4d

    If my house could speak
    It would tell of the silent cries of the woman
    It would narrate the loud sobs of the lady
    It would inform about the moments of respite the girl has had

    If my house could speak
    It would tell of the curses spewed out regularly
    It would tell of the disappointment that has been felt
    It would narrate every tear that has been shed

    If my house could speak
    It would tell of how much of a home it hasn't been
    It would tell how much of a solace it hasn't been
    It would tell how it has evaded the querencia purpose it was made for

    If my house could speak
    It would tell a lot of tales
    But it can't
    And it's sad
    But I can speak
    So I will tell the stories
    And make new tales

    For I can speak
    But my house cannot

  • gundeep_sahni 5d

    You were once a new home

    You were once a new home.
    Fresh paint, sparkling windows, open doors.
    Everyone was welcome, no bias, no locks.
    Freshly cut lawn, and the smell of lillies.

    Slowly you absorbed the neighborhood.
    Learning the ways of the world.
    When to pull down the curtains,
    When to be dressed up in lights.
    How to be inviting to certain faces,
    How to be suspicious of the unknown.

    The seasons came by too, one by one.
    Spring was for new experiences.
    A growing need of companionship.
    Summer was the exhausting search.
    Heat, passion, sweat, all combined.

    Autumn was for love,
    When the leaves on your roof held you in their embrace.
    And winter was the separation.
    The cold that left some cracks within.

    And now, you are much older.
    You smell of the opinions you have housed.
    The paint appears to have faded.
    The locks grow bigger.
    You dream of lillies, and lawns and lovers.
    Sinking in the ground, you dream.

    One by one, the seasons pass.
    And you slowly begin, to leave yourself.


  • ink_trovert 1w

    #personification #poemificatin

    Enough of personification for me, I want to poemify myself into these.

    If I were a poem

    Poets personify abstract
    But here I poemify myself,
    Like in a fountain of ink
    The Diana weeping out poetries.
    The words of brave fire flickering
    As an Epic of valiant,
    The words of crystal water splashing
    As a Sonnet of desires.
    The words of autumn leaves falling
    As a Ballad of melody,
    The words of spring daffodils blooming
    As a Lyric of wordsworth,
    The words of summer sunrise smiling
    As an ode to songbird,
    The words of frosty winter snowflakes
    As an ekphrastic to starry night.
    Only if I were a poem
    I would be these penned
    Trapped on a parchment
    Locked up by a quill,
    Ink running through my veins
    And emotions beating as my heart.

    Read More

    Poets personify abstract
    But here I poemify myself,
    Like in a fountain of ink
    The Diana weeping out poetries.

  • lovemenottoday 1w

    The House

    Silence of walls
    Whispers depressed
    In the dejected night
    Some apparitions shed tears
    Chairs and desks
    Are restless
    The bed twitches
    An eerie fragrance hovers
    In the forlorn room
    Frames of few portraits on the wall
    Recalling the past days
    Some lonely rays of lost sun
    Wanders like gypsy in the room
    This gloomy house has lost
    It's living souls
    Once a bitterly crying Time
    Had come to the door
    The door shivered
    The hinges screeched
    The plague smiled
    And soon was laughing aloud
    One by one every living soul departed
    Cried every nook and corner
    Every room, corridors and passages
    Wept ocean
    The house still gives a depressed smile
    As if consoling
    One day
    Life will smile again.


  • _transient 1w

    For the sake of soothing our senses, let's not personify all the things, making them error prone.


  • laveenapintoserrao 1w

    If Earth was pouring out her heart in a letter to the Moon.. it would probably sound like this...

    #wod, #moon, #personification

    Read More

    A Love letter ✍✉️

    Every night
    for one glance of you
    I await. 
    A glimpse is enough
    to satiate my 
    ravenous soul. 
    Your brightest smile
    envelopes me, 
    enlivens my 
    whole being.  I feel your 
    magical presence everywhere. 
    You fill my darkest night
    with such delight. 

    And then as if
    the universe is unwilling
    to sanction my happiness
    dark shadow
    starts engulfing you. 
    Or is it my dark hollowed heart 
    that eats away your beauty 
    bit by bit
    one day at a time
    until u vanish wholly?

    Why do they call you 
    new moon 
    what new secrets do you hold? 
    Leaving me lonely
    to stare at the twinkling stars
    who are not ashamed
    to mock at my misery. 
    And there on the other end
    you secretly soak 
    in your beloved suns
    warming embrace. 
    What is my fault that
    you, my precious, 
    turn your back 
    upon me so often. 

    Don't you know, my
    jealous heart darkens too? 
    Don't you see  
    how your neglect
    leaves me with sorrow and gloom? 

    And then you, my love, 
    you must feel my pain,
    for you come back to me
    piece by piece. 
    Why though 
    you tease me so? 
    Opening your embrace 
    in such slow motion! 
    Why do you need to
    test my patience each time. 
    Come hurry, beam your 
    full moon smile over me yet again.


  • taekook_maknae 1w

    #lame #alliteration #personification #writersbay #writingcontest #creativearena @writersnetwork
    Reposting this again
    Accidentally got deleted it

    Bye bye❤

    Read More


  • jud_ferrao 1w


    Gentle soft root stem flower ,
    In waters you survive.
    Floating humbly bending with the tide,
    no firm ground beneath to hide.

    Calm smile,
    Are you burdened with sorrow,
    As if your heart is pierced with an arrow.
    Your pose it's a sacrifice,
    Your life mystified.

    Serene ambience,
    divine splendour.
    How are you so gentle pure in dirty stagnant water,
    As if chanting a hymn a mantra.

    Draped modesty
    Pink white is it yellow,
    Are you an angel apsara fairy.
    Agile graceful,a dancer of fame,
    Breathtaking beauty
    Lotus is your name.

    Stem to stem you are bound,
    Rarely in garlands you are found.
    Surrendered at feet or around neck,
    As if in communion with your Lord.

  • mindreams 1w

    Spring in my step.

    What does the bottom stair feel?
    First to drown.
    First for a stampede.
    How does the bottom stair live?
    Always below.
    Today and tomorrow.

    She told me her secret once,
    Whispered it even, beneath my feet,
    "Without me, there are no others. I'm the first. I'm the last. No one sees me, but I'm alive."

  • sulagna2019 1w

    @mirakee @mirakeeworld @writersnetwork @writersbay #personification #wod #moon

    Moon was new , a new moon ��, an actor with versatility. He was striving for popularity in the darkness of bollywood , holding light in the other face. His hardwork and dedication was gaining him popularity in haste . He was working in a popular daily soap. He reflected the light of his beautiful soulmate , the sun . Now he became waning crescent �� holding the hands of right star called sun �� .

    He was growing day by day. He was signed in movies like Kai Po Che, PK ,Sudh Deshi Romance. He transformed from third quarter �� to waning globular �� very quickly but his distance from the sun �� was increasing by and by . With the release of MS Dhoni's biopic he gained his full shape the full moon��. He maintained his position with movie Kedarnath and Chichora . He was even nominated for the filmfare too . But suddenly he left the hand of his right star, the Sun ��. He was running towards other stars . He now paired with Sirius, "the dogstar". But started loosing his light very quickly . The darkness of depression started engulfing him ,since he lost the warmth of sun. Bit by bit , he was drowning in lofty darkness. He lost himself fully and he couldnot revive back like the real moon . He lost control and gravitational force of the planet Earth �� and finally fall of from the solar system into the dark black holes of time from where returning is impossible.

    I need not mention who is the moon �� here . But I wished he could revive back again like real moon. It's difficult to be successful but it's more difficult to maintain the success. His story will be an example for thousands of young minds for years to come.

    Read More

    Story of the moon

    Moon was new , a new moon , an actor with versatility. He was striving for popularity in the darkness of bollywood , holding light in the other face. His hardwork and dedication was gaining him popularity in haste . He was working in a popular daily soap. He reflected the light of his beautiful soulmate , the sun . Now he became waning crescent holding the hands of right star called sun .


  • thestringingquill 1w

    As all the members were together at the living room celebrating mother's birthday,
    The entire house was singing up the birthday song,
    paintings smiling, teddys looking at them with shining eyes,
    air spreading love all around,
    book shelf doing its part
    By blessing the family with great positive words,
    By blessing them to stay close in the roller coaster of life and all singing together Happy Birthday Maa....!!


  • away_with_words 3w

    Pitch Witter

    Eloquence ekes free,
    strips pseudo-syntax shackles;
    Escaping pseudo-poetry.

    Sparks in mundane minds
    Making words seem live
    When asked, they’ll reply:
    Wit works here now; overtime.

    Lightening ledger lines,
    Crafting corporate rhymes
    Fifty-two straight-eights 
    of straight nine-to-fives


  • _p_three_stars 5w


    I am with you I'll always be with you
    You might change me often
    But someone like me will always
    Be with you.
    We witness everything that
    Happens in your life
    When you want to cry we
    Will carry you to your secret place
    When you want to be happy
    We will take you out for ice cream
    We will never leave you
    For you love us and care for us
    We will be there even when
    Those you love aren't
    We will never forsake you
    We will make you look good
    Even when you don't feel good
    We will keep you warm
    We can never hurt you
    We protect your feet
    We are your shoes. Honey.