#rf_licon_ch

68 posts
  • siddiqua_ 6w

    The sunset feels like a brook of wine, and I'm sitting on the rooftop watching the memories come back to me from the sangria skyline. Memories are appetizing feast, best appreciated when alone. I remember the moments we had under the muted street light, the stories we confabulated that we found little credence amid disparate pieces of forlorn incidents. How you displayed phenomenal sangfroid when I was panicking during those sufferings.

    And now the purple dusk of twilight hours, steal those feelings across the meadows of my heart. See, how the little stars are ascending high up in the unlit sky always evoking that we're far apart. You rove down the lane of this abjected heart leaving me a song that will never fade, your love is only a stardust of yesterday.

    At times in the hours of darkness I wonder how I spend these lonely nights, the melodies of every special moment haunts my reverie, and now once again in pure fantasy I'm with you, each kiss a motivation of further evolving fondness, but now my solace is in the stardust of your memory.

    /Because rich evocation has some anecdotes/

    ©Siddiqua_


    #rf_licon_ch
    @augustleaf Thank you for this wonderful challenge ♥️

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  • medhaa_aanand 6w

    //I'm standing on the sea shore, with my forehead burning with the light of slowly eclipsing sun. And the tides which are emptying sand beneath my feet are making me realise how everything affects everything.//

    Sea winds were stabbing me with those poisons of nostalgia and a fragment of me bled all the toxicants which were tardily sploshed away with the tides, and the other dribbled ink staining those deadpanned blotches with the most stygian hue. My feet felt numb as those grains brushed along them.

    Occasionally it seems as if the cosmos had a connection with me, bestowing an aura which evinced the bedlam inside my trifling self. Or maybe it was my perception alone that veered my prospect from the divine seashore to the eclipsing sun.

    I was on my way of reckoning why the wind gashed me with the daggers of guilt when I commenced choking. And all of a sudden the ripples and tides in the water revamped to irate combers. Nonetheless the uncanny attribute, as the wave stumbled forward towards me, it slowly drifted off with a tickle of my bare feet. I marveled whether your love still guards me? Was that choke a portent of your propinquity?

    The days we spent together, the way you fondled my cheeks, I still feel the heaviness of your embrace.

    That book you gifted me still persists on my grubby ancient bookshelf, unread, because every time I endeavor to unfurl it, I experience the weird charm of your presence. Your eternal fragrance, is yet secure in that unread book and in other several memoirs of our ephemerally eternal love.

    As the dusk came closer, an aurora reminded me of that blue shadow of the moon which endowed a golden attire to cimmerian nights. Spending the night, entangling hands, speaking our hearts out, stargazing, all our eerie rituals once again are a(li)v(e) in my reminiscences.

    Never knew that the stars in which we once confided will turn as your perpetual ally. My eyes always searched you but maybe you were merely once in a lifetime serendipity, a heal to my splintered soul, which probably resided in the most melancholic realm of the sky, still entrancing everyone with your widest curves.

    //Your departure was a wind to my dandelions, shattered me yet we bear the anecdotes of our love together. My fragments are still carried by you in those heavenly lands where you repose.//

    - ©medhaa_aanand
    Posted on 14.08.20
    ALL WRITTEN RIGHTS RESERVED
    _________________________________________________

    #rf_licon_ch
    @augustleaf Haha... I'm late XD
    But thank you so so so much for letting me ruin your challenge in the best possible way... ❤️

    I can proudly bet that this is going to have the award of LAMEST piece of this challenge.... ��

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    ©medhaa_aanand

  • sifar 6w

    #rf_licon_ch
    @augustleaf I hope this submission is not too lame for your so amazing challenge, thank you so much for this ^.^ ❤️

    #bingoc
    @writersbay I admire your challenges, thank you :)) ❤️
    horizontally 4th line :D
    sky, clouds, colours, wind, dawn

    @writersnetwork thank you so much for your kind read and like :)) ❤️

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    𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘯. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵, 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. As I shut my eyes, all the visions of you arose and inundated my senses 'neath the sullen ocean of despair. The coruscant 𝓼𝓴𝔂 of my life turned into a dull grey.

    By gently tinting my fingertips on the sand, I engraved "love always", It was looking so enticing, suddenly a tide came up and washed it away though it can't clear your eerie memories. You are still in my mind, and I'm still in you. Ominous 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓭𝓼 of tenebrosity covered all over the azure, It's raining of melancholy, which I carried from too long, from the day you bequeathed me apart.

    Not any rainbow embarks after rain, the 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼 of love, of hope, all dwindle away. Swaying over the edge of the abyss, I cut my dainty skin to let it gush, to let thou ooze out with the waves of tears; the tint of the sea turns into hue red and then in the black, all at once as I murmured your name with my wilted lips.

    A 𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓭 of nostalgia gusts to choke my breath like drugs, I am asphyxiating in this air of woe. Not any serene while can make my heart exhilarated, I'm addicted to what halts me, I'm addicted to the feeling of forlorn. The deep wounds of my heart are bleeding more than the skin, that they ripped out of me, but still, it's beating. With each beat, it tantalizes death.

    Hoary sky of murky clouds turns apocalyptic, and I embraced the sea. My senses realized everything can affect everything but it can't affect the end, it's inevitable. Slowly slowly it turned all into tempestuous red, as I vanished myself within the tides, 𝓭𝓪𝔀𝓷 arrives and it winds up my life, all at once.

    ©jerry_21 🌼

  • halcyonn 6w

    Sometimes I feel hope is a classic novel with clichéd words ,which I am tired of reading again and again.

    While I sit in the evening sunset glazing at the passing clouds above my head while the sun adieu to the moon that appears embracing each broken part of him.
    Hope knocks at my windows while a bluebird sings to his melancholy. He takes a seat with my timid smile as smile. Gestures a smile back at me while I refuse to look straight into his eyes. With chapped lips and hair undone it reads me a poem of ode to happiness. Happiness in you and me we refuse to find in ourselves. Speaks to me while I lay down nervously on my back .

    Hope is a 22 year old girl that refuses to sleep and bangs her head to the pillow each night that doesn't let her sleep. For the 25 th time a day she stands recklessly gazing at her swollen eyes and smiles at her broken self.

    Its the peigon that sits on your varanda every morning with its feathers and eyes searching for nothing but food. It refuses to go anywhere but here . With its eyes it nervously stares at anyone that holds food. She sits on the desk timidly eating the piece of bread.

    Hope is hopeless things the bird and I cling onto.
    The girl with broken heart still smiles at every person in the road and opens her eyes to the sunrise with nothing but hope to find something she could be happy about after him.
    The bird goes nowhere but still stays there unknowingly of getting a bread someday. It's the hope that brings him here.

    Hope is a clichéd word with something so good that you and me choose to still believe in it.


    @raika @sereiin @iamsleepy @eurus @void
    #rf_licon_ch

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    Sometimes I feel hope is a classic novel with clichéd words ,which I am tired of reading again and again.
    - rainfrost

  • tejaswini_3 7w

    Thank you so much @augustleaf for those beautiful lines! I hope I have penned down something worthy of their beauty

    A day ago, YouTube recommended me a video and after watching it, I could not stop myself from writing about it–In my writeup I have tried to highlight the Seoul Ferry Accident which happened back in Seoul, South Korea on 16th April, 2014. The ferry named MV Seoul started sinking when it was travelling between Incheon and Jeju Island, South Korea and about 300 students of Danwon High School, Ansan who were on their school trip were killed along with some crew members and other passengers.

    (I have created fictional characters using the theme as the backdrop).

    __________________________________________________


    ~ᴩʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ~

    //I've always tried to mend things which weren't broken, maybe that's why, I think, my paths have always been made of broken cobblestones. I spent endless evenings on the golden shore, while my feet were sinking in the sand and my heart into nothingness. The crystal waters benumbed me with just one question —was I responsible for her fate?//


    30th July, 2014

    My Diary,

    I wish I would not be writing these words. I wish I would be able to see her once again. I wish I would hug her and tell her how much I want her....And I keep on wishing even though I know that my wishes won't turn into reality– not even in my dreams...

    Yun Hae– my bench partner and my dearest friend. She was the only precious person in my life, for I ws that boy who was abandoned by his parents just after his first breathe. Her jolly smile was like the cool spring breeze which lightened my despondency.She was that only girl who adored me for my own identity. Her presence was the best present that I had ever been bestowed with

    I remember that day, when the notice board bore the news of the school trip and Hae was the happiest being on the planet. She had never been on a trip before, so it took us many days to convince her mom to let her go. Even I wanted to accompany her but....finances always destroy the castles which you build and I could not join my class. With a lie–that I wanted to stay back and study; I tricked her to leave without me.....

    –It was on 17th April when Hae called me around for the first time, around 3.30 in the noon....and all I still feel that I am hearing her voice– "It's tilting over, Sungho! I can't breathe and there are no life jackets here.....the crew members won't let us go....the helmsman has already escaped.....shall I try to jump too?"

    "No Hae, it is too dangerous! Follow the teacher. Did you speak to your mom?"

    "Mom isn't responding..hence I called you....there are many kids who escaped....I think I must dare to do it.....only if you think it is right".

    "How can you think of such risks, Hae? Have you ever thought what would happen if something goes wrong.....what will your family do?"

    "I am afraid, Sungho.....I might die....I am really scared!"

    Adamant as I was, I kept on advising her to stay where she was. At that exact moment I could not fathom that her rash decision was a lifesaver. Hae called me seven more times; but I was firm....and at 4.16 p.m. sharp......I recieved her text message–

    "Tell mom that I love her. I will miss you. Goodbye"
    ___________

    I froze. It was unreal. I could not believe it. I simply could not accept the fact that my Hae would not be alive. Each and every cell in my body felt twisted and I felt a sharp pain in my heart. I screamed. I had killed her.....it was my overconfidence which ended her life....

    And here I stand all alone, stranded away.The night sky has been embellished with many stars but my North Star has fallen off as a comet and has embraced the waves. Even the subtle moon has hidden itself behind those cloudy curtains; perchance it's weeping too. But my eyes feel stiff. No tears pour down, even they have bid me an adieu. Isolated in this solitary world, I seek answers- was it my fault that I tried to stitch together the strands of the fabric which was never frayed?

    With my feelings caged and my words locked in a canyon of helplessness, I glance at those sand dunes which I built with Hae. I see her footprints embedded besides mine. I clutch that pouch of shells and conches which we both treasured- her fantasy for those deep waters was eternal and now she rests in those soft pearls of the Atlantis. Her name meant the ocean and she truly united with her love.

    And suddenly I hear an angelic voice- "Will you be again happy, for me, as you were before?"

    I know it's her. My lips curve into a faint smile as I say "Promise"...

    Yours,
    Sungho
    ___________________________________________________

    @writersnetwork @tamanna3 (special thanks to you❤️❤️❤️) @the_creation_in_our_stars @the97_introvert @btslove @dove_wings @thesunshineloves @saloni__ @shaiz_fs


    #rf_licon_ch #writersnetwork #mirakee #challenges #stranded #subtle

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  • maleficent_ 7w

    Sometimes I feel like hope is a classic novel with clichéd words , which I'm tired of reading over and over again , having no epilogue , it's just a never ending tale of fake blithe thoughts . Eventually I'll just pluck all the pages out of this novel , make paperboats out of them and let them drown in melancholy just like I do .
    Hope brings me voids , where my expectations will exactly fit along , leaving no room for despair . It does a lot to me ; with the sounds in my head pushing off the edge to the world of expectations and conclusively to pain ; A double headed sword on the toes of love and somehow , somewhere grief . Though unsure about the side , wondering which one is capable of stabbing in the abdomen so that death comes slowly and painfully , and which one can rupture the jugular to end the misery instantly .
    Standing next to the Tibetan teacups , wall hangings made of shells or looking at the abstract paintings of beautiful women on my beside wall , no more puts me to sleep , but holding a broken piece of the washroom mirror until a crimson trail appears on the tile , does the work .
    Hope is nothing but a hungry soul constantly beseeching for happy love songs , and I'm a hopeless romantic , not knowing how much to give and how much to hold back , I constantly feed eulogies to it . The delightful gestures , one does while anticipating something dulcet , is not what I call hope . For me , hope is a constant mumbling my lips do , praying to provide the soul with a little more strength , so that I pass one more night screaming in the mirror .
    Reading this metaphorical novel feels like clinging to a coffin , I've always been bad at letting go of the things that are harmful for my own self .
    The effulgent pearls of hope always choke me and make the blood inside me curdle , like a volcano engulfing me and pinning me down , murdering me but not letting me die .

    - Ruhii

    #rf_licon_ch

    A failed attempt at a beautiful prompt . I'm out of ideas , vocab and everything .

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  • seyfert 7w

    E P I S T O L A R Y

    The sunset feels like a brook of wine and I'm sitting on the rooftop watching the memories come back to me from sangria skyline, The Memories etched on my heart like a tattoo etched upon someone's skin, inexpungible.

    Not all of those memories behold us but none shuns you.

    The crapulent ligule of dandelions waves at me asking me to let go of the feuillemort pile of us out of souvenir, explaining to me that when good bids adieu the best is already awaiting somewhere within the stars, but my sopping smoking orbs come down in favour of murky tangerine sky over anything else.

    The tangerine we looked upon with demitasse in one hand and dandelions in others is now replaced with tangerine I stare at, holding sommelier in one hand and a cigarette in other, sitting beside my musky wet spiral notebook on which I scribble my tears dipped in mascara.

    As I see the sun setting down and the golden sky putting on the black veil of tranquillity, I find myself as part of the empyrean, the empyrean embracing burning yet dark scars and my domicile is between those scars, interstellar, residing within that black locus being grey blotch.

    Now, when the black rule the roost and my eyes are no wetter I lay back to the cupola under that black veil and tries to find my lost soul between those burning scars, praying that I never cross you again but the sun will set again and yes daily.

    // I never romanticised even red but now I romaticise black, cause maybe my darkest hues are my only hues now//

    © Bhavya Baldev 2020

    #rf_licon_ch

    Picture Credit to @galactus

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  • ak_anjali_daydreamzz 7w

    #rf_licon_ch #mirakee #writersnetwork
    #stranded #alliterationc #ocean #love #life
    @mirakee @writersnetwork #pod

    ALL WRITTEN RIGHTS RESERVED
    13 August 2020 5. 30 pm


    | Thalassophile |
    ~Someone who loves the sea~

    I'm standing on the shore, with my forehead burning with the light of slowly eclipsing sun. And the tides which are emptying sand beneath my feet, are making me realise how everything affects everything.

    The land under my feet kept eroding as the glimpses of the past kept playing in my vision. Stolen kisses to angry fights, tight holds to push and shove, long laughs to choked sobs, thank yous to goodbyes, gratitude to regret and revenge, passion to guilt, love to hate and affection to remorse, lovers to strangers and an infinity lost to forgetfulness.

    All the beautiful moments of life were drops whereas every heart wrenching moment was an ocean. Smiles were drops in the ocean whereas tears were an ocean in the drop. Love was a mirage and hatred a desert. Caressing breeze shy whereas stabbing tempest full of fury. A minute in love lost to a thought in vain. Frowns residing in the arched slope of eyebrows and smiles leaving the curve of dry lips. One touch ecstasy, another guilty, last touch betrayal. First kiss fantasy and last kiss frenzy. First impressions full of expectations, then a longing for a glimpse in the crowd of strangers and last scene an incomplete act, a song left in the middle, a poem unfinished.

    My love is invisible in all Polaroids of memories
    but in each frame of life I've delivered love that even
    I can't distinguish from my antics,
    I can't express through my emotions,
    I can't believe I've carried within my heart.

    // I've carried love in my heart while I was
    Searching for love in every crossroads of life,
    Seeking for what was in turn seeking me from within //

    Afternoon sun was warm and cheerful
    Golden yellow hues brightly shining
    Splendid silence surrounded the shore
    On one fine Saturday I began my journey
    Walked the shore for the first time in life
    Stumbling and giggling, legs unsure
    Smiling even when I missed my steps
    Falling down often and finding myself
    In the embrace of the golden sand

    Shore was never lonely, always crowded
    Childhood innocence built sandcastles
    Stubborn waves would hit, knock them down
    But we built them again, even with tears
    And then forget the fall when it stands proud

    // Ocean breeze caressed my tender footsteps
    Heartily waves carried drops of care
    Nuzzling and nurturing my every step
    One after other, leaving tiny footprints //

    Along the way, the crowd got labelled
    Friends, fellow-travellers, sailors of the sea
    Supposed to walk together the stretch
    Yet when dreams stretched the sandcastles
    And they grew to tower on the shore
    Every fear strengthened the waves
    Violent storms and falling structures
    Became recurrent nightmares from then
    Just like the sand beneath my feet
    Courage lost to my concerns countless

    Approaching sunset caused turbulent waves
    Insecure mind and irritating nature
    Added to the high tide, flooding emotions
    Castles broke down one after another
    Yet my mind was desperate to hold on

    // High tides struck me hard and loud
    With mind full of fear I gazed at the ocean
    Maybe there is a lesson I failed to find
    And the real journey is yet to begin //

    Moonflower bloomed in the eventide
    Twilight sky tangerine and enchanting
    Later in the silver lining and shining stars
    When the ocean glistened in glitters
    In a trance I fell for the beauty of night
    Along with that, to the songs of the siren

    Blue nights had a new shade of solitude
    One in which I lose to find myself elsewhere
    Mirrors and mirages played with my mind
    Oasis in desert felt like the ocean of dreams
    Magical waves serenading hearts so lost
    Often time I found myself falling deep
    With the thirst to touch the depths unknown
    Seek the treasure hidden in the ocean bed

    // Ocean waves enchanting my heart
    Silver sparks enriching every touch
    Temptation fueled my passion and
    An urge to dive deeper within and into //

    Midnight left me stranded on the shore
    Dusk fading, darkness rising to the zenith
    Serenading dreams turned to bewitching nightmares
    Fears feed on nocturnal life, kicking alive
    Phobias each held a mask to my face
    Autophobia, even when isolation was habitual
    Vast stretch of shore haunted me with space
    Even while I struggled with claustrophobia
    The horizon over the ocean was my home
    Yet I felt homeless, seeking shelter in clouds
    Finally the long love for the ocean also left me
    With the fear of death, finality, end of love
    Where a thalassophile lost to thantophobia

    // Furious waves broke me in a frenzy
    I'm left alone on the shore to fight
    Either I fail to the storm or win my fears
    Ocean was the final push to fight for myself//

    Abandoned...
    Stranded.. Standing on the seashore
    Sight on the skyline, smile lost to the sunset
    Sorrow deep within soul, shadows sickening my skin
    Sadness surrounding mind, sighing to solitary waves
    Searching for solace, seeking salvation
    So far away... so lost... soul
    Alone...

    Alone I found myself, my stance, my vision
    As I fought numerous waves on my own
    Gathered courage drop by drop, in my sail
    Won tides with perseverance and determination
    I learned to see what is what and how is how
    Grasp why life is the way it is, what values the most
    How one moment led to another and finally
    How drop by drop becomes the ocean
    Moments become life, the picture of wholesome
    The horizon where the ocean touches the skyline
    Is not a limit but a goal to reach to - My home !
    How everything affected everything
    To paint the portrait of my life on the shore

    I'm standing on the shore decades later with a frown on my forehead and creases on my skin gazing at the sun way past the eclipse, but this time with a content smile etched on my lips. And every time the waves left with the sand beneath my feet, yet my stance is strong. With the leaving tide, I see glimpses of my life flashing behind my eyelids and I feel my vision getting broader. I've learned to look past the sunset. I've fought the high tides and storms that left me shaken and broken but made me stronger. My love for ocean never failed me but filled me with new hope. I've witnessed the dawn break on the shore of this forever ocean. And now I know everything happens for a reason.

    // Ocean at the break of the dawn
    Fighting the war with the waves
    And within, I own my struggle
    Standing invincible here to recite
    What the waves taught me win
    When I let what was seeking me
    Find myself and own the self //


    ©ak_anjali_daydreamzz

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    Someone
    Who loves
    the Sea


    Abandoned...

    Stranded..
    Standing on the seashore
    Sight on the skyline
    Smile lost to the sunset
    Sorrow deep within soul
    Shadows sickening my skin
    Sadness surrounding mind
    Sighing to solitary waves
    Searching for solace
    Seeking salvation
    So far away
    So lost
    Soul

    Alone...

    ©ak_anjali_daydreamzz

  • galactus 7w

    Sometimes I feel like hope is a classic novel with cliched words which I'm tired of reading over and over again to keep my heart alive, A Novel promulgating you as the protagonist and setting me out as a spear-carrier, one who has no authorities over you or to get back to this serif once thrown out, yet my clogged throat screams for my mantle as my claggy eyes yet hope to hold your hands and walk my wildest paths with you, walk until the milestones stop describing us, walk until we forget where we started from but at the end of the day, it is all a dream.

    I often sit back in my darkest thoughts to summon the essence of this novel which gets bestrewed over the walls of my soul each time I open it up and I try to find you betwixt the black letters, smiling wide with shining eyes, talking with me about us but all that I end up receiving is your opaque shadow, which fades when I fall back.

    I'm the tired cause for weeks I'm amidst the pages of this novel and can't get off as your promise to keep promises hold me back.

    I want this rigmarole to get to an end as soon as possible but I never wish to turn the last leaflet off.

    © Ashwani Singh

    #rf_licon_ch

    @augustleaf Thank You, Ashutosh for hosting such an amazing challenge.
    ��

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    ©galactus

  • rusha_c 7w

    "The plumes of August are gold and orange.As it has soared to this city, its colours have overcome the sky and everything seems a little more beautiful."

    The radiant sky has once again filled my heart with hope. The past days of gloom are long gone by now. Fallen tears have already dried up only leaving a remnant of rhapsodic memories behind. Maybe for me to dwell upon when I see the grey sky, shedding tears once again. For now it is just the grieving past.

    The hues of warmth and the carefree breeze is idyllic. It feels like, I am being wrapped in the ebullient essence of innocence all over again, I am free of all grief, all pessimistic ways, the essence
    of peace moulding my shapeless thoughts, after being scattered by the fatal blow of melancholic
    past.

    Even the weeds are feeling wanted now, just like my hope, the hope I have buried long ago beneath the forlorn thoughts, now it has grown to be wanted again. The birds are chirping melodies of rapture, the scarlet fields of poppies are as tranquil as ever, and I am getting lost in the quiescence of the August sky, trying to find ineffable simplicity of life.

    ©rusha_c
    ___________________________________________________
    #rf_licon_ch #writersnetwork #mirakee #pod
    ___________________________________________________

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  • say_me_krish 7w

    *Subjected to continuous edits* ��



    sᴏʟɪ(ᴄɪ)ᴛᴜᴅᴇ

    //I've always tried to mend things which weren't broken, maybe that's why, I think, my paths have always been made of broken cobblestones//

    Holding a fistful of smithereens of my maimed heart- I stand here with two simple questions. Should I feel beatific for the reason that my senescene was taken with those dandelions by the soporific breezes over the marmalade ether? Or should I feel excruciated as always for losing those handfuls of sole memories I preserved in the verdant gardens of my heart for years? Who's answering me all these? You? Or should I find 'Myself' in those answers myself?

    My mind has become a dabster in posing questions, my tongue has mastered the art of speaking in haste, my nails have learnt overgrowing in just days indicating that I'm too depressed to trim those, my eyes have learnt speaking sagas in just moments, but my heart just deteriorated by days. Maybe because it has the answers, but not the brevity to open up those, for they would bring more and more sadness in one's way. I'm trying to make my heart free, but this mere flesh has yet got more to tolerate with. I always wanted to say that "I'm a star who would always be in the embraces of the mauve skies, welcoming me with wide hands when in distress" , but now, it has seemingly become more true after you took your own path. Darkness, and only darkness, is my friend who ruffles my hairs and says, "Everything affects everything" like Jay Asher did.

    Others seem to espy rainbows and admire the vivid hues it has, but I ponder upon the melancholic darkness it conceales in itself, just to soothe eyes. I always find in sadness in everything, or maybe, I can call this, being Empathetic? Every bit of this universe has something to share and something to bear, right? But only a few have got courage to do both, but unfortunately, it's not me. I've just learnt to bear, just feel suffocated with regrets blocking my nostrils. I've started feeling that I too am a ʀᴀɪɴʙᴏᴡ now, the sunshine of ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ enters raindrops of my heart, dispersing ʜᴀʟᴄʏᴏɴ all around, whelving real emotions deep inside. Maybe, all melancholic wanderers with forlorn hopes are my friendly rainbows?

    Being a person with sombre emotions has always been a resilient journey for me. Searching for the strongest threads from the best yarns to sew together my diaphanous fabric has been a ridiculous chore, perhaps never fruitful. If though stitched, the black scars never hesitated to reveal themselves; the scars, which were permanent, which my soul was presented with. This scar, I would name it, Regret, stays until you bring in a solacing medicament called Acceptance. But when you have this easy tablet called Ego coated with Negligence, acceptance just feels ashamed to enter your house. Either those cobblestones which pave paths, or the hearts which break paths, at the end, you'll have to fit in fragments of Faith between holes of Distress.

    The moments when we used to have our fingers intertwined in the rooftops by the sunsets are crossing my complicated strands now. The sunsets which remembered me of the beauty our love had, now reminds me that every story has some ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴜsɪᴏɴ to go on with. For my ambsace, I found the execrable sides of things. The roses which you had planted have now grown more thorns and drooped flowers, just as my melancholic face. Your hazel eyes was the sight I rejoiced the most everyday. But you see, my life is a void now, only bleak nights come my side. I had those times when I used to love the grounds, and now, I see myself there, fallen shattered like an affected road. The white teeth of yours which used to smile wide have dusked with the sun, bringing up the moon, which has also failed to hide its greys now. I used to see the mirrors in joy, but now, it shows me my scars and bruises and aches, never hidden. I'm not sure if it's my own reflection. Sometimes I feel even mirrors are afraid to show the reality, and sometimes, we're not ready to accept what we see. As always, I just have questions, no answers.

    But now, my asseutudes have made me get you everyday in my book, titled ʜᴏᴘᴇ; the hope that you would write for me the best poesies brimming loads of affection, the hope that you would come for me. I wished you would write poesies taking me to cloud nine with the soft flow of metaphors. But now, even Microtales can suffice the pain I have inside. You see, just castles in the air they're. I see the fire in the garden incinerating all my dreams and hopes into ashes, which I could never ever get back. The winds and the water are of no support, in surprise, in putting off this fire of Rage. The wilted rose petals in the pages yellowed with my tears are the only things left to remind me of you.
    Gathering all the broken pieces, I'm off to fit them into tiny spaces, the null spaces. I'll cover all the peculiar spaces, with faith. Arisement of a contented feel is what I'm longing for in my solitude, for now I've realized,
    "Sᴏʟɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ sᴏʟᴇ sᴏʟɪᴄɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ".

    Give me time to make fragments fit, and I promise, the smiles in the salmon lips would widen , and the frames would look much better, perfectly fit without hollow spaces.

    ~S r i K r i s h n a P S
    _______________________________________________

    ~Penned and Posted on August 13, 2020.
    ALL WRITTEN RIGHTS RESERVED.


    @augustleaf Thanks for the loveliest challenge Ashu!

    This is the only lame, the lamest piece you're gonna find here :) This will be my last post here probably, so be happy��

    #skp_writes #rf_licon_ch
    #themostsenselesspostugonnareadtoday

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  • _hessa_ 7w

    (Maybe, just maybe you'll listen it. What? You'll never know.)

    @augustleaf Thankyou once again ^_^
    And I apologise for the length hehe.
    #rf_licon_ch
    ________________________________________________________

    I'm standing on the shore, with my forehead burning with the light of slowly eclipsing sun. And the tides which are emptying sand beneath my feet, are making me realise how everything affects everything.

    A flared floral dress is enough to hide the smiling skin with invisible scars. Wind plays its game once again to enhance the beauty which reeks ugliness when found alone.The waves are calling me in and my unconcious mind is getting stabbed again and again by the habit of taking steps back. One, two, three and here I've forgot the count of how many times this has happened before. It isn't a sign of loneliness that I don't want anyone to touch these half orange and half purple painted nails looking like a sunset under a sunset. It's just I don't want anyone to pick the paint and see what all is written on white nails.

    The sand slipping beneath my parched feet is somehow making me feel that I've got nothing to fill the voids. Voids have been filled with reasons that are capable of creating bigger voids. Few days back, standing right here, I told the clouds that I'm afraid of voids and cried until they set themselves aside creating a void through which I saw one of the most beautiful rainbows of my life. There comes a point when beautiful things make you cry worse. I just started running on this shore showing back to those clouds yet fixating my eyes on them.

    I haven't really slept for days. Just have tried to close my eyes and feel the peace for once. But somehow closed eyes have been hurting more than swollen ones. Blinking things off, helps. With each blink, a bunch of indigo is blooming on this ocean in front of me. Within a few days, here will be a heavenly indigo field. Just for me. It has always been just me. It all has always been just in my mind.

    This too shall pass and thus the sun is continuously setting down trying to let me up. The feeling that I'll witness many more sunsets but none of them will be like this, is soothing at the same time comes with the wave of longing. A never ending longing. You're never ready for any of it but neither is the ocean ready for high tides. It calms itself down, you will too. And me? One of my part must be following you for sure. Then there are a few dreams which knock at our door, at us like low tides and keep asking us to live a little longer, little better and a little wiser.
    It'll set for a night now. A night filled with stars. I can just hold your hand and walk on the stars that'll line themselves up for us, once we start walking. But one of them might break and fall leaving us as wanderers in this infinite sky. We just can't walk away without noticing the footsteps of said things we leave behind.

    These scattered rays of sun are screaming beauty. Maybe broken is beautiful in a way I could never comprehend. It's beautiful for the ones who don't want to know if it's the paint or blood on the edges of broken pieces. You don't want anyone to understand you if not completely. These pieces of shells leave a sigh of relief when left untouched. The beauty of hands that might touch them with all the love and care, doesn't matter here in a way.

    Maybe one day, I'll receive a letter floating on these waters. But I'm afraid that day, I won't be left with enough words to write a reply. Neither to the letter nor to myself.

    Sometimes burial of many feelings is necessary to let few of the most beautiful flowers nourish over them. Sometimes letting go a few sunsets is necessary to understand what the silence of waves whispers in dark.

    The part you've let go a long back and the part you are seeking, both affect the part you are trying to live in this moment cause in a way or other, everything affects everything even if you don't want it to.

    /We are sand in an hourglass which is flipped again and again to let those few uncertainties of time delay/

    ©_hessa_

    PS: I've nothing left to write. Just a set of emotions, I don't know if they can be written just like that. I wish I was a writer who knows how to write.
    _____________
    You just won't. End of an unwritten and if wrote, maybe one of the most beautiful stories you'd ever read. It's okay. It's okay even if it's just okay, okay? And maybe this is the moment you realise that not every okay demands an okay in return.
    I don't hate you. *Smiles*

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  • _aesthete_ 7w

    #rf_licon_ch
    ———————————————————————-

    ᴅ(ᴜꜱ)ᴋ

    This sunset feels like a
    brook of wine, and I'm
    sitting on the rooftop
    watching the memories
    come back to me from the sangria skyline.
    I am a different type of
    an aesthete who cries along
    with every sunset, who
    loses a fragment of her
    soul in every single one
    of the metaphors nature
    moulds from the voids
    she didn’t create.
    because
    Staring at a sunset is like
    staring at a reflection of
    you in the water, and that’s
    what hurts the most, for
    now everything that was
    beautiful after being injected
    with a scourge of metaphors
    has turned ugly, grey, after
    being injected by the
    metaphor that is your name.
    I have wondered how it has
    been possible by people to
    see a sunset and be reminded
    of love, for this sunset’s
    screaming red strokes scream
    nothing but your name.
    the way this sunset forces me
    to have my shadows elongated
    reminds me of what your
    departures were able to do
    to me. The way this sunset
    is a farewell, bleeding out
    art , designed to creep away
    stealthily after enticing those
    who he leaves ,is too reminiscent
    of the pathways I took alongside
    you, which merged into two,
    and led to a dead end for one,
    but a circle for another. This
    sunset feels like a feeling you
    cant feel, which is where all
    the danger lies, with thoughts
    running and coursing through
    back and forth like the myriad
    of hues embedded in this sunset,
    a beautiful medly of chaos and art
    meeting together.
    This sunset makes me finally feel
    the sobs buried deep within my
    throat, carved into patterns of
    broken promises and ashes from
    letters. Memories of you refuse
    to let go for theyre too good
    to be forgotten, pain invites me
    to feel it’s cold feel and fiery gaze
    in ways more than one, for letting
    you go is pain and feeling you
    is pain .
    This sunset is you
    and the poetry you wrote
    even though you aren’t a poet.
    This sunset reminds me that
    pain is a paradox,
    and therefore so are you.
    This sunset may be a brook of wine, but it hasn’t aged well.
    at all.
    -mihika (._.)
    ©void

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  • sunenasharma 7w

    Standing on the shore

    I'm standing on the shore, with my forehead burning with light of slowly eclipsing sun. And the tides which are emptying sand beneath my feet, are making me realise how everything effects everything.

    Reminiscing the first time I met you,
    The first time we greeted each other
    with a sophisticated smile,
    The first time we worked with each other as a team,
    And from then onwards,
    It was always you all over my mind,
    Fighting with you, Fighting for you,
    Eating with you, cooking for you,
    We became the best of friends,
    Then came a day, when I shared with you my thoughts,
    For me, I would be settled,
    When I would be a successful lady,
    Of officer stature,
    Everyone in my nuclear family be in a happy space,
    And me just staring in the eyes of my loved one forever..

    Back to present,
    Today I am standing on the shore,
    With my moist eyes..
    Waiting for you,
    Willing to tell you,
    That it was you,
    And it will always be you..!

    ©sunenasharma

  • nectarine__ 7w

    The plumes of August are gold and orange. As it has soared to this city, it's colours have overcome the sky and everything seems a little beautiful..

    The napalm skies have been replaced by some plumes of gold and orange hue, resembling the evening sunshine. The silhouette of birds are flying to their homes singing sweet songs to refresh the patients of melancholic cries. The sky is starry, but the crest-like orange hue is covering them so that they don't need to cry ,seeing them die.

    By and by it got night.. The yellow and orange hues kissed the love and lovers cheeks, and turned them blush. They were looking at the reflection of the crest on the river, how the plumes flew down the horizon, sitting beside each other. Her ocean eyes made a glance at the sky, and they diffused in the skies--A colour vane, and created another color--Purple was it's name. When she closed her eyes, the sky reflected from the eyes of her soul-
    I purple you��

    ©murchana_

    Pic credits to the rightful owner.
    #rf_licon_ch #daadigotyourback @mirakee @writersbay @writersnetwork

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    Her ocean eyes made a glance at the sky and they diffused in the skies..a colour vane was created.

    ©delicate_sunshine

  • veloc1ty_ 7w

    The sunset feels like a brook of wine, and I'm sitting on the rooftop watching the memories come back to me from the sangria skyline. Some of them come pirouetting gracefully on the chirpy clouds of affliction while some of them charge towards me anxiously with a shaking thump that's felt from a volatile stampede of enraged bisons. Some of them come with an intention of making my frown disappear into an abyss while some of them simply come wielding a sharp cleaver to butcher what's left of my innocent soul.

    My nimble mind lost in the riviera of thoughts loses its grip over emotions and it trembles me a little. The red drink that I'm holding carelessly, slips right out of my clumsy hands and my barren heart gets soaked by all the passing-by memories of the past. The deep scarlet stains left by the spill fall short of being dark enough to cover up the gaping patch you left me with but the forsaken time that separated you from my arms couldn't hold its grounds against the beautiful memories we created a while back. Wind starts to blow heavy in my face and the remnants of my past form together to bring you back to life. After what it seemed like aeons of waiting, I see you standing there near the edge of the sun burnt roof, wearing the same white dress I first saw you in.

    You lock your cold blue eyes at me but don't let out a single word from your mouth. Your eager lips pressed against each other trying to hold out all of that anger succeed in not letting it all slip from the tip of your tongue but your eyes fail miserably when I take a step towards you. They end up telling me a whole lot about how badly you missed me but there's still that unresolved thing; the closure that I denied you of. Your hands clenched tight against a part of your dress and one finger of yours pointing towards me in desperation, showcases your disliking towards my move. As I take a few more steps you turn your back against me like how I did when the only way you could breathe was with the help of a tube.

    Soon the sun dissolves into the horizon and darkness starts to disperse into the sky. The bright white coloured threads on your dress begin to fade into a dull grey and your flesh is on the verge of disintegrating into little pieces. The white of the dress is retained back by the white of your bones that appear when your skin and muscle bid adieu to your body, when you're left looking like a skeleton. Sooner the dress disappears into the thin air and your bones turn into a heap of dust. The same wind that brought you back along with the memories takes all of you away with it and again, my soul faces a defeat against the ravages of time.
    ©veloc1ty_

    #rf_licon_ch
    @mirakee
    @writersnetwork

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    The sunset feels like a brook of wine,
    and I'm sitting on the rooftop
    watching the memories come back to me
    from the sangria skyline.

  • dusky_dawn 7w

    Sometimes I feel hope is a classic novel with cliched words,which I am tired of reading over and over again."Hope keeps your alive" This hackneyed phrase makes my ears bleed and choke my belief of being alive because this phrase holds nothing except dry and dead vibes. Sometimes I wish to caress the leaves of the tree standing tall in my garden but with a tinted neck and drizzling eyes I step back because the vibes of failure I hold are desperately clinging on my skin and waiting to cling to the surface to turn it dead.I caress my skin instead of those leaves.The leaves shouldn't die before autumn and a dead person cannot die again and again.

    Sometimes I feel hope is an underrated emotion. I often discard this emotion in the bin of my anxiety. I feel that the culprit of my dead wishes is -Hope.From that summer evening when I underestimated hope to the bright sunny day when hope picked me up from the trashy road. It keeps on coming back to me like a weak lover who'll die of heartbreak if left alone by his companion.We used to live side by side -The hope that claims to walk with me for eternity and me -The born hopeless creature.If it wasn't the storm of pain I would'nt have known that the hope that clinges on my skin like a second skin is going to leave me alone with the darkest hours and troubled mind.I wouldn't have known that the hope that knocks my door the next day will stay till the next wreckage and then again will leave me alone with the grey life. It"s an underrated emotion -No matter how badly i tried denying it's existence -It never disappears and stays within even if it means it's existence will not be felt.

    Sometimes I feel hope is like my old torn drawing book which I keep on losing everytime I try to keep it safe locking with multiple locks. The pages of my drawing are fading slowly and slowly so does the hope Is fading failing my every attempt of knowing what life is. I desire for the ignorant mornings to stop visiting me, I desire for nausea filled nights to stop creeping me out when the sleep wants to sleep besides the dull and dead me. I realised hope is so easy to lose just like my sleep and my drawing book. The cravings for the things I can never have has left me long ago.I desire to breathe the air of peace and kick away the rocks of pain but this will remain as a unfulfilled craving because the more I try to hold the air full of hope in my tiny palms the more this air will leave me alone with the pain because Neither the hope lasts for long nor my peaceful sleep.

    Sometimes I feel hope is my Ex lover. I keep on losing him in the storm of misunderstandings.Yet I find him in front of my door everytime he hear my cries full of agony and anxiety and hope keeps on coming back to me amidst the terrible days and sick nights when it hears my pleas of ending the torture that destiny plays on me. That mirror in my bathroom reminds me of hopeful days when i used to stare at it with bright eyes and brightest smile and now when i stare at it it shows dullness and darkness but still a particular shard of glass smiles back and spreads the desire of trying to live again and again until I'll know how to look into the same mirror with eyes where life used to live. I tried killing away the vibes which allow the hope to enter my homeless home but I fail when a tiny silk cloth soothes my wounds showing me if there are thorns in my garden so are the flowers who won't let me drown in the emptiness of pain.

    Sometimes I feel hope is me. I lost myself many times yet I find myself struggling to breathe again and come out of the darkness because it never left me.It exists within and will always stay within even in the deadliest of storms.

    ©dusky_dawn

    Bg - Me

    Idk if this makes any sense of not. But anyway I penned this. ��

    @augustleaf Thank you so much ashu for this amazing challenge. I tried kicking away the writersblock but still not sure.

    #rf_licon_ch

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  • pragya_a_dreamer 7w

    Ahem... Ahem...
    Hola everyone... This is my entry for the very interesting challenge : Concealed Lines
    By @augustleaf : #rf_licon_ch
    Plot given by augustleaf @ No. 4

    The plumes of August are gold and orange. As it has soared to this city, its colours have overcome the sky and everything seems a little more beautiful...

    ������������������������������������

    THE TOUR OF TIME

    The plumes of August are gold and orange. As it has soared to this city, its colours have overcome the sky and everything seems a little more beautiful...
    The time now decided to soar back to the city....

    Wait what!!! The Time!!!

    Yes... It all started when...
    [ FLASHBACK ]

    It was the most beautiful part of the day... As the sun decided to rest and while the moon with his twinkles coming along, something happened that once in an infinity happens , the time paused....

    Yes, the always moving hands of the clock on the clock tower amid the city came to rest...
    To look around...

    It took time for the time to incile the fact that it had paused, that it had time for none other than time itself...

    The time floated out of the dead and still clock tower and peeped around...

    It went to the sky who was camouflaged in gold and orange. Looking down at the city, everything seems a little more beautiful...

    The time now decided to soar back to the city and it stopped near the children who were playing hopscotch but now were fixed to their places. Looking at the shining and happy faces of them, everything seems a little more beautiful...

    It fluttered around and stopped near a man who was busy doing his daily works at office earlier. He had frowned because of tiredness. But that tiredness was about to get lost when he would be around his family in an hours time. He had that shine of hope of being happy in his eyes. Looking at the haggard and frowning face,everything seems a little more beautiful...

    It now winged its way to an elderly woman, sitting by the rocking chair and knitting a small cardigan maybe for her grandchild who was about to take birth. Looking at the nostalgic and peaceful face of the woman, everything seems a little more beautiful...

    Experiencing such beautiful things around it, the time now glided back it's way into its years old home :
    The Clock Tower

    Coming back to its place, the time sighed, and thought about the people who were puppets of its game, only to unpause...
    Yes... It was the time for time to get back to its never ending journey...

    Looking at the world now , everything seems a little more beautiful...

    ©pragya_a_dreamer

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    The Tour of Time...
    ©pragya_a_dreamer

  • suranjana__ 7w

    //Sometimes, I feel like Hope is a classical novel with clichéd words, which I am tired of reading over and over again//
    Fatigued of hearing those endearing communications from companions who tried to solace me for the unwelcome chapters that flashed in my existence. My goals were incessant yet there wasn't a lone I could attain. Every homo sapien that set foot in my existence had the carbon-copy words eloquently uttered, that HOPE for the best. But my idiotic encephalon doesn't want to hope any longer.

    According to the hypothesis that my mad cerebrum furnishes states that goals are like evocations which never departs and lives on. It can't cling to hope. Hope is intrinsic you must hope but that doesn't mean you hope while sitting pointlessly. We can't wholly hold onto hope as relatives say to hope when we eye for our upshot. If we aren't someone industrious then it's gonna be the most draining thing for us that's HOPE.

    We are there and we can achieve just a little bit of courage and credence is required and then boom!!!we will be sitting there, the dream throne of
    ours. There are finite disappointments in this world of ours but we mustn't loose infinite dreams. Hope, make it a word which can be used as conquest after working hard for so long rather than making a word
    to receive sympathy.

    Two recitals of one girl who hoped for success at first and after so many years she worked hard to crave it.
    At first she was someone who waited for ages yet never find her post which she came off-track due to being a low caste one. The other who discerned she herself purloined her those 5 valuable years hoping for a post which doesn't really deserve her. Every drop of her hard work made her someone unlike, unlike from the bygone one. A girl maverick. A girl diligent. A girl not living only with hopes and clichéd words. A girl who is sure of craving her dreams.

    And as the recitals embark and terminates at last it's all your choice which girl you want to be like. Paperbacks like Hope which lack originality of words must often felt tired of reading when we take it as consolations and stand by without any work for upgrade. But if you read this novel after working so hard in your existence it will turn to a novel memorable .

    (Readers kindly bear with this you may not like as it's lame but still bear with this please)
    #pod#mirakee#writersnetwork#writersbay
    #hope#clichédwords#selfconfidence
    #rf_licon_ch#daadigotyourback
    @augustleaf @_rainfrost_ @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    HOPE, we'll peep at you from a distinct slant, not for sympathy but after those laborious trainings

    ©suranjana__

  • _nikithasharmabts_rare 7w

    I sincerely apologise for not reaching up to the challenge. I am sorry, this is my first time writing for some challenge. And also I am a newbie in writing. (´-﹏-`;)(-_-;)
    But @_rainfrost_ thank you for this wonderful challenge. #rf_licon_ch @mirakee @writersnetwork #stranded
    I tried to portray the long lost love, which was recalled when I saw the love between the clouds during sunset.....
    -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    The setting sun feels like a brook
    Of wine, and I'm sitting on the rooftop
    Watching the memories come back to me
    From the sangria skyline.

    I sailed my boat of memories,
    While looking deep into the brook,
    And was stranded betwixt the
    World of reality and in nirvana.

    I embraced the flowing crimson sky,
    Into my deep dark black eyes,
    And my iris reflected the hue of
    The love between the red wine sky and the azure sky.

    My boat of memories stopped
    At the eysome sight,
    Where the flowing crimson sky,
    cuddled into the blue firmament.

    I wanted to sail my boat further,
    But the vista of their love,
    Made me parched for our
    Long lost love.

    // I wanted to leave the
    Memory of our entangled love,
    But when I looked at their love,
    I recalled every second of the time
    We spent together,
    Under this crimson sky//

    Soon the red wine empyrean hid Under the quilt of cimmerian hue, As the twitterpatted clouds,
    Were going to get sundered,
    and will meet on another Sunset.

    Hitherto my boat of memories got crumbled,
    The dark black eyes, now were misty,
    And now each second of the time,
    Spoke our long lost love ....
    _ Nikitha Sharma

    ~Penned on 10th August
    6:15 p.m.

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    The setting sun feels like a
    brook of wine, and memories
    come back to me from the
    Sangria skyline
    ©_nikithasharmabts_rare