#septembersnippet

52 posts
  • suranjana__ 17w

    Dawn escorted the midnight and eventually osculated the shore.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 17w

    I preferred taking all the three combos:-
    1) ZEPHYR AND MOPPET
    2) MIZZLE AND MELODY
    3) ORCHARDS AND SMILES
    ___________________________________________________
    This piece of mine shows love in 3 stages:-
    • Childhood love through frolics
    • Adulthood love through magical adventures
    • Old age love through solace and custody.
    ___________________________________________________
    An amazing challenge given by @fleeing_fossil

    #ffossil #mirakee#wn#pod#septembersnippet
    #childhood#lovebirds#oldsmiles
    #daadigotyourback#readthisJ
    @fleeing_fossil

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    //I was a little one, all I perceived was I had a bosom friend who was a boy and we used to lurk around all the hours bordering the monstrous and coniferous trees. And finally he vacated that place and went somewhere out of the way. And I being a moppet wept, for I didn't have anyone to frolic with. My mumma persistently was tapping on my scalp chanting lullabies but she didn't sense my tiny heart belonged to the frolics we played.//

    Beside that monstrous tree
    Holding a mammoth leaf
    We both were there having a mock up bonfire
    Patting our hands and giggling in marvel
    We went ahead to a voyage
    With our boats of folios
    In that muddy waterhole.
    I immersed my feet in a benevolent way
    And he perfectly was drenched further.
    We two moppets in that rugged land
    Making up muddy abodes
    With spongy hands,
    Seizing those withered leaflets descending
    From it's narrow offshoots as
    the zephyr came to pick up
    And let them reside on our palms.
    These nanoseconds would
    Always make our infancy alive.

    //After a prolong flight of 20 years we both were there confronting each other in a cafeteria sipping hot cappuccino and making ourselves heated through tight embraces. Yeah!! I met him, the boy with whom I fabricated a muddy bungalow and he is my bestfriend and also someone I have crush upon. That night I can't forget when water showered from cosmos, a mizzle probably and he brought up a ukulele that I lent him as a token of love.//

    Being cosy inside the blanket
    Hearkening to PERFECT when
    He played the ukulele
    while gazing at my eyes
    I couldn't stop my cheeks have shades of red
    And there I held his hands tightly
    And with a hope I whispered in his ears
    The three mystical words.
    And he kissed me in my forehead
    Shouldering me 24/7 in his life.
    The lovey-dovey weather
    With blisters of mizzle plummeting
    From the roof touching the anatomy
    Of the casement
    And the melody of the ukulele
    Turned out to be the magical night ever.

    //Voyages although would wind-up one day but I would always be happy that I would conclude mine holding hands of my soulmate//

    Both with fragile vertebrae were
    there holding each other's hand
    and taking a room in that undyed bench
    of an apple orchard
    with those old smiles and chortles
    pouring down as if rain from heavenly sky.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 17w

    MELANCHOLY: A FEELING OF SADNESS

    I don't know if it really makes sense#writersblock��
    #tears#septembersnippet#tricklingoneliners

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    Tears have verbalized my innermost melancholy of heart when sometimes my lips emerged to be numb to illustrate the blemish inside.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 17w

    There was a tinge of sadness in her voice
    When she uttered MISS YOU BOTH
    with her small lips.

    Gazing hardly at the vivid sun
    through the canopies,
    Her eyes slowly were embracing salty iotas
    Which once were bound to hail fantasies.

    Taking a glimpse of
    the giant undyed bungalow
    Residing on the rugged estate
    engulfed with foliage
    She recalled the o'clocks near the lane.

    When her santa claus was letting her soar
    Towards the azure
    holding the firm rope of the swing
    And her angel was there
    to feed her with the slushy
    Finger tips, the pungent cupcakes.

    Now there resides only resonates of crickets
    And those dazzling fireflies
    Residing in an abode
    Built by curved anatomies of creepers.

    Holding her memoir full of reminiscence
    In form of snapshots, verses and recitals
    She let her hands pass through the folios
    With remembrances of days
    filled with giggles
    And deadnights with warmness and lullabies
    Being sung by her angel while tapping
    Those soft hands onto the scalp of her.

    Scripting down every notions
    with a smily at the fringe of the diary
    Her eyes once again flashed
    the fortuitous sight.
    And again there came the recall of howls
    And loud voice produced by hospital wagons.

    Those blur portrayals that arouse of
    Eyes full of teardrops and fear.
    The eyes which gazed at two bodies being
    Loaded with blood at edge of the road,
    With two broken cars
    And two panting physiques
    Making promises of stepping there feet
    Towards the cosmos.

    And there she was, a tiny infant
    Being grabbed in arms of a fat woman
    Eating her salty thumb finger
    Dipped in teardrops pouring from small eyes.

    Now she is there, breathing in the macrocosm
    With imaginative replicas of death screams
    And nightmares holding views of vital fluids.

    Nothing else was there which made her smile
    As the two epitomes
    who held her happiness
    Now lived may be as a meteor
    in the heavenly sky
    Or a dust particle fluttering
    Beneath the humus as it travels by.

    ©suranjana__

    #sadness#septembersnippet

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  • suranjana__ 17w

    She is benevolent as a butterfly
    But a single oscillation of her wings
    Can onset a storm residing inside.
    Not even a solitary gesture of her silence must be oversight as fragile.
    Remember that sometimes
    the puff of air stills,
    Before the hurricane arrives.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 18w

    Trust being fragmented is like wrinkling up a flawless segment of paper. You can burnish over it but it's never going to be the same
    again.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 18w

    #furniture#septembersnippet
    #writersblock( again with a lame piece )
    #wn#mirakee#daadigotyourback#suwn
    Thank you so much @writersnetwork for the kind repost������(2)
    Again another unexpected one was reposted��

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    Being a 20 year old bed...

    Being a 20 year old bed
    He is enfolded with cracks,
    Cracks of sounds often distracting me
    When I steadily move to my fantasies.

    Being a 20 year old bed
    He is still furnished with slushy seasonings
    Letting me adore while
    brushing with it's physique.
    The physique that is engulfed with
    Undyed oversized coverlet
    Being benevolently cascaded on it.

    Being a 20 year old bed
    He is there for me to efface my teardrops
    Spinning in a slow gesture to
    The long rectangular sheet of fabric being securely clutched over the bed.

    Being a 20 year old bed
    He still makes me descend in his love
    Again and again.
    Although we have break-ups
    for his cracking sounds
    But with his alluring warmth of love
    He still waits there to hold my anatomy to his.

    Being a 20 year old bed
    I ponder if he is making me have clinomania
    Letting me have excessive desire
    To stay there to make up dreams at night
    When the sun is switched of and that of
    Stars is on.

    Can't leave you dear bed of mine
    Until the alarm gets jealous of
    Our relationship and rings on my ears
    Performing it's duty
    to make you and me leave.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 18w

    #poem#pod#septembersnippet
    @writersnetwork
    #writersblock(again with another piece I don't know if it makes sense or not)

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    A poem begins as a reverberation interrogating a silhouette to whirl with it's physique.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 18w

    #atticc#pod#septembersnippet
    #writersblock #wn #mirakee
    #lame. Don't even know if it makes sense��

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    A fragmentary miniature
    A half scribbled verse
    A precarious mind
    Filled the attic
    In it's flawless form - SILENCE

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 18w

    A poem begins as the first idiom is being benevolently cascaded on the empty folio with shades of hope. And the remaining notions whirling on the poet's brain cells follow just as a river on its route.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 18w

    Only estate of her was his broad chest;
    And progenies that he scattered in her heart
    Were somehow leading it's way
    To flourish awfully alluring flowers.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 18w

    Writer

    The one who acquainted the eccentric and bewildered the familiar.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 18w

    Dry leaflets although seem to be dead, but aren't. If viewed cautiously by our gleaming eyeballs we will be watching them shivering their anatomy while whirling in the puff of air.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 18w

    Slowly taking a deep wheeze as the zephyr
    Began to gently blow approaching towards us
    He and I were there with fingers all crossed
    As we turned the outlines of our leaves.

    The only thing we both were praising for was that
    Let the two souls survive in this macrocosm
    Hanging ourselves in those hard branches
    Of our only hope.
    And deity watching us desiring to take breathe
    Didn't let the zephyr take us away through its moves.

    He gently touched my anatomy
    As there occured the last move of the breeze
    Letting me make a promise to be together forever
    Even if we tend to be the deceased ones
    Even if we get ourselves worn out while sapiens
    Would take steps through our rough expired body.

    Looking at the glowing moon and then staring
    At each other with gleaming eyes
    There it came the cracking of dawn
    Birds chirping on our ears and wind giving us
    A signal full of happiness and new journey.

    With smiles on both of our face giving birth
    To an infant with bright green shades full of love
    We left our abode with
    A hope that our new born gets long o'clocks to stay
    In it's abode hanging in those hard branches
    And enjoying the rays of sun
    Droplets of pure rain falling by the cloud bursts.

    And then we holding hands gave our soul
    To let go to the cosmos and our physique
    To get dropped on the cement grounds full
    Of dead bodies of our family members.
    And there came the gentle zephyr, our one and only
    Transport system that let us descend.

    We two together resided there
    Keeping eyes on our little one
    Who was enjoying eveydrop of raindrops
    And each song of the bird whispering onto
    Her ears.
    We two, whirling in the puff of air,
    Making cracky sounds as sapiens leads their way
    Through the body of ours,
    Letting people believe that we can have
    Alluring shades also after our final twitch
    Was all we did after our demise.
    We weren't detached and never broke the promise
    Of leaving each other after our soul vacated.

    ©suranjana__

    #storyofaleaf
    #septembersnippet
    @mirakee@writersnetwork

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    The endearing
    love recital of the
    two autumn leaves

  • suranjana__ 18w

    Opening my eyes I was wished good morning with a kiss and I felt that soft lips pouring on my cheeks. And there I was blushing as my countenance was touched by the rays of light who was silently gazing at me. He was almost ready there with a perfect cup of Nescafe and there I sat being lazy. It was really a shame for me that he woke up so early and I there sleeping for several hours taking a nice nap. Even the sleep mask have the two words " Nap Queen" being penned on it. Keeping aside the thoughts of being lazy I was there to have a bite of the cookie he made and there he did what always is being done. He bet me on my hands for the eagerness of having the bite without my face being washed up. Having my hands and face washed I was there taking the bite while watching the sunflowers in our lawn flirting with the breeze that gently came to its way. The sun on the other was too jealous of watching this flirting going on between his soulmate and the zephyr and began to give more of its uv rays. But the earth was there protecting it's little friend. Penning down my own thoughts on my platform of cerebrum I was enjoying the cookie and sip of hot coffee.

    Wearing my sandals with a panda being drawn on it I went to have a bath and there he came washing his hairs with an undyed towel. I was completely aww struck enjoying his moves. And was so amazed while escaping from the drops of water while he throwing it on my anatomy as he gave his head a rough shake. He being a romantic sapien and I being so shy gave me the most desired moments. While he let the globules of water fall onto mine I smoothly escaped from their and brought a cute pillow to have a fight. Opps!! And there began our pillow fights one jumping onto the bed and the other trying to beat from the floor. And at last we ended up giving condolences to each other on the two pillows death as feathers began to pour from inside.

    Literally it happened to be a cute when the current came and the fan went on like a marry-go-round letting the feather present on its hands enjoy the ride. And we two human beings standing their on the bed gazing at each other's eyes. And there goes my straight hairs letting my eyes block its way of vision and creating another fantasy moment when he gently tugged them onto my hair band giving our eyes a way to meet. There sounded the song PERFECT by Ed Sheeran on my phone. And I was so angry to waste this endearing moment that I ended up saying sorry to him for the phone. And he was like, " Hey alien, we have more time to remake this instant time to be the best one. Let's not get angry upon this call. It might be important". And letting me feel secure with his forehead kiss and hug he let me pick up my phone which was non other than those call centre calls. And there we go couldn't even stop hilariously laughing over it.

    ©suranjana__

    #fiction #wn #mirakee#pod#daadigotyourback
    #septembersnippet@writersnetwork

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  • suranjana__ 18w

    MÎSFÏT

    She was dumb in giant groups
    Of girls who gossips being the stylish queen
    In the corridors of the school.
    She was residing there in the benches of the class
    Holding her favourite novel
    Reading it quietly down the desk
    Making herself an introvert
    From the two faced extroverts
    with hilarious laughters on cracking of jokes.

    Sapiens tend to know her
    If they have a close visit to the abode in her heart
    She was a forlorn
    Smiling and laughing a lot
    At the most inappropriate o'clocks.

    The kind of girl she was who trips over
    Up stairs, people's rough feets and somehow
    Manages to get up with a scratch on her feet.
    16 year old she was but never even managed
    To have proper bite of biscuit while dipping it
    In the cup of coffee.

    She was the hardest person to distress
    But it was all easy to make her feel horrible.
    She hates people telling about her broken stories
    Of love, faith and all that emotional recitals.
    She didn't need any people to worry about h

    She was the one who listens
    to other people's problems.
    She listens to their broken souls.
    She believed that people shouldn't be judged
    Before one gets to know about their life
    Yet she managed to do that
    and also so was guilty of doing so.

    She was someone who gave
    more power to her thoughts rather than uttering
    A novel from her soft lips.
    She loved thinking, imagining things, dreaming
    Even when her eyes were there,
    opened with great force.
    Yes!! She was awkward, shy, strange
    As a whole SHE WAS MISFIT.

    #misfitc#writersbay#septembersnippet
    #writersblock( can't help my own mind��)
    #wn#mirakee@writersnetwork

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  • suranjana__ 18w

    The worn out wounds embedded inside our soul never perfectly get healed up, and begins to bleed again at the slightest word like it bled at the initial hours.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 18w

    If only the optics of our catched sight of souls instead of the physique how distinct our ideals of beauty would be.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 18w

    The salty water pouring from her gleaming eyeballs uttered the recitals that she kept as a reminiscence which she never desired of. And these droplets of her eyes made my heart mourn. All I wanted was to encase her in a blanket and whisper in her tiny ears that she was secured there forever.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 18w

    Elegantly she wore the scars as wounds being tinged over her physique in a battle, as those blemishes of her reminded the conflicts she had endured.

    ©suranjana__