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  • harshu05 7w

    I reluctantly peered under the bed,
    the monsters, they are all dead.
    A rusted old drawing on paper,
    smeared in red for the maker.
    A map to where he can bargain,
    for the soul that knows to feign.
    A pint of rum and coffin nails,
    jeered at my doleful life tales.
    Futile empty bottles of temazepam,
    ushered me to the devil's thumb.
    I spring up and saunter to the door,
    jabs of paroxysm sneered and swore.
    Life, it camouflaged itself into many shades,
    for the world that applauds masquerades.
    ©harshu05


    #doleful #writersnetwork #ceesreposts
    @paulwrites

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    Subterfuge

    Life, it camouflaged itself into many shades,
    for the world that applauds masquerades.
    ©harshu05

  • harshu05 8w

    Archers and walls shot down,
    arrows broken and spears in half.
    The sword of the king has fallen,
    fire and blood scoured the virgin land.

    Hearts collapsed in vain, the sky
    cried along with the breathing dead.
    The trumpets roared and celebrations
    were wild in the enemy's camp.

    Dragging limbs, heads and corpses
    for the final goodbye, the last of this life.
    Thudding laughter, proud hugs and cups
    of olden wine danced to mercy cries.

    Burnt and gathered were the ashes, no
    woman shall ever again see her love in armour.
    Glory and accolades spewed in
    for the men who fought for honour.

    Prisoners of war and to life from here,
    chained to fate and drugged to insanity.
    The joy of liberty, sweet vengeance at last,
    entitled to freedom is what triumph seeks.

    Respect and gold snatched, hungry stomachs
    eyed the healthy guards in the broken dungeons.
    The war has ended, victory was served,
    defeat was inflicted, a kingdom lost, another won.

    An old man, standing atop of the bleeding hills,
    looked down at what greed and fear could do.
    The alive rest for the day and await for orders,
    the dead rest hoping it shall not be their sons next.
    ©harshu05


    #writersnetwork #battle #triumph #prisoners #ceesreposts @paulwrites

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    Eternal battle

    An old man, standing atop of the bleeding hills,
    looked down at what greed and fear could do.
    The alive rest for the day and await for orders,
    the dead rest hoping it shall not be their sons next.
    ©harshu05

  • harshu05 8w

    The colours have faintly faded, the
    rainy night has gently kissed every hue.
    The empty glasses of red wine,
    held me closer than you ever will.

    The warmth of your flesh against mine,
    we are just two hungry bodies one over one.
    I have tried, cursed and bled into the night
    trying to master smirks of lusty desire.

    I am poisoned with guilt, inches apart,
    my skin burns when your teeth dig in.
    The card and flowers you've brought,
    I've smiled but I waited for them to die.

    My feelings were perfectly hid and tamed,
    now I halfheartedly strive to fake a ton.
    Skipped the heartbreaks and emptiness,
    I'm exhausted in pretending to be fine.

    I'll watch the bridges burn down to ashes.
    I'll light a few, and will wait for you to cross.
    The cries of guilt and the love you still have,
    I'm sick of battling for what I've forlorn lost.

    Mere seconds were enough to fall out of love,
    It was magical as long as it was wild.
    The beauty was just an illusion, to soothe
    our shattered pieces with a touch of pleasure.

    I lay wide awake, next to the man I loved,
    who wouldn't wake up after the drink he had.
    I ran my fingers through his locks, and whispered,
    Darling, cheating is where you went wrong.
    ©harshu05

    #bluepup #blue_gen_19 #ceesreposts #NoticeMeDaki #challenge #writersnetwork @writersnetwork

    I'm not sure if this goes with the challenge �� @bluepuppy01

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    Amour

    I'll watch the bridges burn down to ashes.
    I'll light a few, and will wait for you to cross.
    The cries of guilt and the love you still have,
    I'm sick of battling for what I've forlorn lost.
    ©harshu05

  • harshu05 9w

    Woods

    I was lost
    not in the depths
    of the woods but
    in the silence it holds.
    ©harshu05

  • harshu05 9w

    We are all pieces
    of an imperfect puzzle.
    Pieces that were left astray
    among the ruins of reality
    Stitched and painted with a
    facade that begs for acceptance.
    Burnt and betrayed, yet stressing
    a smile that seeks solace.
    Robbed, hurt, incomplete and buried,
    dreams were meant for the night.
    In the world of greed and lust,
    love was for feeding desires.
    The dead had moments of struggle
    and pages of worth that define them.
    Breathing but dead. Blood running in
    veins but lifeless is what we best portray.
    Walking through the streets of
    misery, stumbling to reach the end.
    Somewhere in between the lines
    of a mad man's feeble cry was hope.
    Hope applauding those who
    still had the courage to believe.
    Eternity wasn't promised to soulless
    bodies that hid behind a faceless mask.
    Blood dripping fingers reaching out
    for a touch that whispers warmth in the storms.
    The characters we elegantly play
    are not the pieces we are.
    At the end, with nothing
    more to gain or lose.
    We are all just broken pieces
    of the same puzzle.
    ©harshu05

    #astray @writersnetwork @mirakee

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    Imperfect puzzle

    We are all just broken pieces
    of the same puzzle
    ©harshu05

  • harshu05 12w

    facades

    Over the years,
    all I could see in this
    dark world are warm
    hearts getting chained
    by social insecurities.
    ©harshu05

  • harshu05 21w

    The sun rays are shining down on the streets of Rotterdam, to be precise piercing through the debris, to strike the blood doused ground. Not more than 23 minutes ago, the Dutch troops had everything under control and were defending their port from the German forces. Buildings were reduced to ashes and the bombings had set the sky ablaze. Human remains were left scattered, thousands were dead in a war they weren't fighting. Amidst the commotion, a lad of 19 years, with cobalt teal colors on his chest was crashed against a collapsed bookstore.The badges on his uniform were slightly visible as the blood gushing out of his arm was drenching him, he could breathe for only a few more minutes. Those around him were all dead, he knew the air in his lungs wouldn't be enough to take him miles in search for help. He was bound to breathe his last, and what broke him more was that he had orders to be delivered to the navy regiments to hold their fire till further directives. The river of Meuse was now in red, he recalled his captain's unwavering words,

    "Till you catch a glimpse of your nation's flag high up in
    the blue yonder, don't let your guard down."

    those words made him want to fight till the last beat. He had no enemy around, no army to fight, no strength to pick himself up, yet he wanted to fight. He was helpless, clutching on to a piece of crippled paper, with most certainty held his last command. No longer could he hear the air raids, or the emergency sirens. He wanted to ask forgiveness, he wanted to apologise to his mum for not being able to return home to take her out to the annual fair, in the nearby town after the war. As a young child, running in his grandpa's barley fields, searching for the perfect apples to take home for the supper's apple pie and listening to the old tales of Lange Wapper were what made him wonder if he could too cross towns in a leap. He wanted to become a baker and start an outlet to make his mum's stroopwafel recipe famous.

    Appointing time:14:30, 8th May 1939, Amsterdam

    were boldly written in the letter, he received just a month after his 18th birthday. He was called to defend his country in the world war 2. He was given a Dutch mannilicher, a service riffle to take down anyone who went against the colors he wore. Horror struck he was, the day he killed a man who tried to save his nation. Though Netherlands was neutral in the war, it didn't stop the Germans from invading, the war became intense and even barracks were attacked. Thousands of civilians dead for the aspirations of a few, who were oceans away from the mayhem.

    *the last bomb was dropped to destroy
    the Dutch naval base*

    The loud thudding of the ground made him shudder and he let out a faint cry. He could feel his body getting stiff and numb, he coughed to let the oozing blood out of his throat. He leaned his head back, his eyesight was fading and a tear rolled down his cheek. His eye caught from afar a group of soldiers running towards the ruins, the heart of the city was in. Slowly a few started running in his way. He clutched the paper tightly in his fist, though it was of no avail, he knew he would discharge the duty he was given. He slowly closed his eyes. A week later, his mum got a letter about her dead son, Ruben who died on 14th May 1940, in an air raid by the Germans on Rotterdam.

    A memorial for those who lost their lives in Rotterdam bombings is found even today in Netherlands. Millions of teens who lost their lives in both the world wars might have had dreams of their own.


    #ruins #ww2 #soilder @paulwrites @alluring_tulip @tomorrow_is_amazing @laughing_soul
    Pc: pinterest

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    Rotterdam

    His eye caught from afar
    a group of soldiers running
    towards the ruins, the heart
    of the city was in.
    ©harshu05

  • harshu05 23w

    Choices

    Human yesterday, human today.
    The question is, are you better?
    ©harshu05

  • harshu05 26w

    Did I change? Is this another juncture?
    There's this strange calmness,
    taking over my dubious head.
    I don't know the answer to why.

    My thoughts are flowing
    in a rhythm, much smoother.
    The voices have retreated,
    to where I wonder, do I really care?

    I don't miss the origins of my trauma,
    I'm not looking for another ache.
    There's a concealed void in me,
    commencing to be gently sealed.

    I ripped the pages, again,
    precisely millions of times.
    I scooted back to pick them up,
    invariably, I grew fonder with time.

    Finally, I've the nerve in me,
    to burn the besotted book.
    Flames kiss every adored verse,
    the fine lines no longer hold my joy.

    The chaos balances my tranquil mind,
    agony has found its daunting grave.
    As the sun goes down, I don't find
    myself walking back to the ashes of my past.
    ©harshu05

    #change #flames #book #ashes #writersnetwork #origin #ceesreposts @paulwrites @alluring_tulip

    Thanks a lot @alto_spade

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    Departing from the past

    Flames kiss every adored verse,
    the fine lines no longer hold my joy.
    As the sun goes down, I don't find
    myself walking back to the ashes of my past.
    ©harshu05

  • harshu05 28w

    You can build walls
    and barriers to
    block people.
    Growing stronger
    by the day with no remorse.
    Convincing your insecurities
    that they have finally
    lacked competence.
    Overlooking emotional
    ordeal, chiseling through
    reminiscences.
    A knock of quondam
    winsome moments can
    rupture years of pretence.
    ©harshu05


    #writersnetwork #mirakee @writersnetwork #knock @geraldine_mary @paulwrites @alluring_tulip

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    Masquerade

    A knock of quondam
    winsome moments can
    rupture years of pretence.
    ©harshu05