Mirakee
Pieces
After a devastating cause,minor or major,the world is but full of broken or torn pieces.
©an_unopened_letter
#unekha
938 posts-
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aenigma
47w
The kite over Venus
I Don't know how to fly a kite.
Never got the thrill of getting cut by the string.
But since the past two weeks
I long to see kites in the sky everyday.
I wait for the evening when I can climb up the roof,
And just sit in the breeze and watch them dance,
Pulling one another's leg.
The breeze teases me, reminds me of the walks at night on open roads,
But bestows a tinge of nostalgia too, for I am the same child who used to look up at the birds at this very spot and name them to her mother.
When you Can't see who holds the end of the maanja
The kites suddenly come to life.
With the colours and the tucks.
While I sit there at sunsets,
The sky splits into two
The envious eastern blacks and the flaunting western blues meet halfway through,
Just to have the wedding embellished, studded with the infant stars.
The Orion, hunting for eyes looking up, heads turned up, to shine brighter than ever.
Venus, the illegitimate King of the skies
Is my favourite.
It always swims on the blue side, unblinking.
But as this bronze kite flew over it
Shimmering in the scarce light,
Glittering with the utmost simplicity
I couldn't look at Venus anymore.
I could feel him staring at me,
He likes my eyes in his.
But the kite fluttered with ignorance, carelessly.
It danced and tucked and leapt and sparkled.
In days of confinement, I realized how we have turned blind to the beauty in vicinity,
How bliss can be tied to the ground,
And how sanity can be charmed by the minimal.
©aenigma -
doyeeta
48w
Read MoreShobdojot~60
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শুকনো পাতার ঘ্রাণে,
অচেনা পথ ভালো থাকে
চেনা হাতের সন্ধানে,
অরণ্যের ওই সবুজ মেখে
হেঁটে যাব বহুদূর,
সেইখানেতেই বাঁধব ঘর
সেইতো আমার অচিনপুর...
©doyeeta -
aenigma
49w
Feel
See. Where do your eyes lead?
How do your eyes burn?
When you try to see beyond.
Beyond what they want you to.
The realms have been predestined.
Your eyes carved at the core, of what they want you to observe.
They sing you the ballards, they want you to hear.
How do I listen more? To the chaos of the unknown.
It's deafening they say.
But this monotone is too.
Beneath the ground I listen for,
To every crack and fault below
To every invisible flaw the air holds.
Can they be touched?
Are they unprovable or unproven yet.
I simply want to listen
For simple selfish sakes.
Will she ever come back?
I see her in the mirror,
Beneath my skin, woven in my gestures,
beaded in my movements, laced in my words.
But I have been losing her since she left,
Will she wither out of me?
©aenigma -
aenigma
58w
Unfocus
Blurriness. On my face.
As if I am not in focus. Playing a role in the background. Being a nullity. A non entity in someone else's story. This constant feeling scares me, convinces me more and more every second. But there are moments when it goes away. Moments made of icicles. Sharp and fragile.
When I lie curled up in the blanket, dark and warm.
I lay and listen to music.
And as I feel the vibrations in my body, the vibrations of the strings my fingers have never touched.
I feel singular. Detached. Clear and one.
As if the ripples in the lake where I see my Reflections, have come to a stand still .
The music goes on. And the focus descends on me again.
Beautifully. Dancing on the Melodies.
And i become crystal clear again.
I feel alive mostly.
But right now, my heart beats for me. For my story.
And I lay with eyes closed, in my puddle of clarity.
©aenigma -
aenigma
68w
Read More
There is this unceasing lust, to just cease existing.
Like a bubble popping steadily.
Its the unlearnt beauty that ignites me.
The beauty beyond my reaches.
The surreal pleasure.
How would it feel like? To be just blown away like a dandelion.
Turning to dust in a merciful moment.
Being nothing but wisps of unreality.
Being nothing.
Away and content.
Content with my absence.
But does contentment exist there? Where my ungrateful self doesn't.
As I make my way in the scorching sun, shaded.
I can't see myself.
Only the shadow of the very umbrella.
I fancy visualising it glide to the earth.
Abruptly.
Softly.
As i swiftly turn to ashes. Fly away with the east winds.
Scattered. Dispersed. Obliterated.
Where will my consciousness reside?
Will I cross the barriers and slip to insanity?
Will I be omnipresent? Is God forbidden to feel?
I'll be just absent to witness what I yearned to behold, once I was tangible.
How would it feel to evaporate?
To just innocently unexist.
Not one remembers me.
Rather I never existed.
But where would I go? I wonder .
Will the silence echo till it drives me insane?
Will the darks blind me ? Throb me to lunacy?
Will words mean anything?
Utter anarchy. Naked oblivion.
I know I can't let go of my existence.
But can my presence ever surrender me to ommission?
Perhaps absence of non self is all i will witness.
But again.
Can 'I' be, my non self?
©aenigma
#quote#life#mature#poetry#poem#words#unekha#writersnetwork#readwriteunite#writedilse#poetrycommunity#poetry
@writersnetwork@unekha@readwriteunite@poetrycommunityMusings 2
Read the caption.
©aenigma -
aenigma
68w
Read More
Why do my horrors leak?
Why do they leak and blot on others?
Why do my spectacles bleed and get smeared all over?
Do I need to watch the autumn leaves with the one I gaped the galloping spring?
Why do I deny it? When the winter comes, when I know I feel alone.
Why do I not see the difference?
Between walking away and drifting off.
But I was there.
I was there for their craggy rough slopes.
Is it a must to show them around the zenith?
In a world of distinct colours, why do I stick to the greys?
For now I expect to see my shades in others.
Expecting.
Isn't it my own hues washing away?
I know where I am wrong,
I am stagnant with my patterns.
Why do I repeat them?
Because I feel stagnant with my pallette.
Haha. I am a walking irony.
I have friends with resolved visions.
They notice my finest pixels.
I confine in them.
But why do I hurt them for not being me?
What do I do if I am fed up with my garden?
Well maybe take a walk around other fences.
But I am afraid the shrubs would change.
I am afraid the season will leave.
I expect immobility here.
Expecting.
Isn't it my own hues washing away?
Maybe stagnancy too is beautiful.
Gasoline rainbows don't show in runny waters.
Maybe I change cuz other inks drench me too.
But what kind of a dawn am I?
Arriving only after a moonless sky.
Why is it this chaotic?
Why this frenzied maze?
But I guess lillies too stay in tangled braids.
#quote#life#mature#poetry#poem#words#unekha#writersnetwork#readwriteunite#writedilse#poetry#random#thoughts
@writersnetwork@unekha@readwriteunite@poetrycommunityMusings
Read the caption.
©aenigma -
zephyr_27
71w
Read MoreA person faces a lot of challenges in life which affects him emotionally, physically and mentally. And at the end of the day that person confides himself into his best friend and shares his grief and narrates his story....that is how things work but now the problem is amongst all these things there are people who being a good friend listen and empathise with others and in the process their own voice is unheard and suffocates to death and they turn out to be a "good listener"...........
#writersnetwork
#mirakee
#unekha
#podGood Listener
Even the best listener needs a listener for his story to be heard, felt and understood.
©zephyr_27 -
Worth
Life is a black box with numerous uncertainties inside it, years ago when i was asked "What is the aim of your life?" I was blank, I just had one answer "I don't know if I would become a doctor or an engineer or a scientist but yes I know my worth and I would certainly do something worth admirable in my life".
Years slipped away, now when it is the actual test and finally its a reality check and all those big fat dreams are shattered one by one, when I am gradually entering the possible world of actual uncertainties where I am just a pawn and destiny is playing its own game, its time to remind yourself that one kiddish answer and realise that when as a kid i knew my worth then how on the earth did I forget it when i grew up.......
©zephyr_27 -
zephyr_27
73w
Read More
Fight your luck until your hardwork defeats your luck coz hardwork is what you can do whereas luck is something you cant ask for coz its not in your control..........
@unekha
#writersnetwork
#unekha
#mirakeeJust like that
Stuck between the game of luck and trust on hardwork i chose to believe my karma coz in this cruel world shortcut pays shortlived happiness on the contrary honesty challenges you at every step but pays you with what you deserve.
©zephyr_27 -
aenigma
78w
काग़ज़ सी सफेद है स्याही तेरी गालिब,
जो अपनी लिखी नज़्मों पर अमल ना किया।
©aenigma -
aenigma
79w
I hope you are free enough someday to dance alone on the road.
©aenigma -
aenigma
81w
I regret how I didn't sail through the storms. The child inside always escorted the rainbows. And now I sit on leprechaun gold pots.
©aenigma -
aenigma
82w
Maybe he won't miss the people. Maybe he cannot locate the void, but he knows too well that he'll miss the warmth of the nine bright Suns put together..
©aenigma -
zephyr_27
83w
Read More
Friendship or relationship
@unekha
@mirakee
#writersnetwork
#mirakee
#unekha
@writersnetworkChoice
Never had i thought in my wildest nightmare that i would loose the most precious thing, thing that i promised i would treasure lifetime. Our bond, our friendship,our partnership in crime and every other happiness and sorrow we shared together is just a faded memory now. This journey from chimerical utopia to the obnoxious reality, i realised that there exists no "perfect" Titu for "imperfect " Sonu, who, when asked "ya toh wo ya toh mai" would choose friendship upon relationship.
©zephyr_27 -
aenigma
83w
Distinguish between what is yours and yourself.
-
aenigma
83w
I have seen the sheening whites and the ebony blacks find their pearly greys in the middle.
The scarlets and the blues wade through, to reach the violets.
There are always fine, loose strings where we find each other.
It may not touch our cores, but soon we choose to ignore the differences or maybe accept them as a different colour in our palette.
Its a matter of effort to reach the effortless. We always meet somewhere. Where the mere presence of a quality connects us.
Perhaps this is the most striking trait of human race. We are capable of feeling things beyond choices. We cannot choose to feel. It just happens, either in a blink or after a great slumber.
©aenigma -
aenigma
86w
जिन फूलों को हमने
मुकम्मल वफ़ा से सींचा था,
आज वो खुश्की का फक्र उठाए,
कांटे सजाकर बैठे हैं।
©aenigma -
aenigma
86w
I am crooked.
I am gnarled.
My growth was abrupt, unnatural.
My roots are shallow.
The branches are spiky.
Tapering all along.
I have grown on graves.
On caskets, buried at little depth.
I am a wooden tombstone.
And she is a gentle Vine. Who happened to reach me.
She expands slowly.
She learns slow.
Patient.
Serene.
She has been embracing me since she touched me for the very first time.
Reaching my needles. Embossing my trunk. Her roots are deep. Brushing and blossoming past my sunken offshoots.
Her scent, makes me feel loved.
Love was a rotten smell before.
I am unaware of what i can blossom into.
Or whether i ever will.
But i am scared she'll wear out soon.
For the needles aren't known to bloom.
©aenigma150 6 12
- aenigma @sanskritisinha thanks a bunch
- sharmilajuliet Amazing
-
aenigma
@writersnetwork
Yeah - aenigma @sharmilajuliet thankuu
- aenigma @writersnetwork sir done sir
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Just like that
When without any expectations we get so loving parents then why do we look forward onto having a person who would live upto our hopes and desire . let's just leave it to our destiny,coz destiny may have a greater better and bigger surprise.
©zephyr_27
We read your creations, they are very unique. We would like to invite you to participate in our new book. The book will be published with your name and copies of it will also be given to you.
for more information contact.
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