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  • ish_ika 5w

    काविश = attempt
    बे कसी = helplessness

    @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    काविश यूं झूठी क्यों करना?
    शिकायत है।
    इलज़ाम नहीं तो साबित क्यों करना?
    फिक्र है।
    गिरफ्त नहीं तो बे कसी क्यों करना?


    ©ish_ika

  • ish_ika 6w

    Don't tell me
    How my metaphors bring your words alive
    And how my rhymes soothe you in your sleep,
    For they don't form my soul of poetry
    Instead tell me
    How the stanzas you fail to find meaning of, make you curious
    And how you want to live with my dark tones that alliterate backstage.


    ©ish_ika

  • ish_ika 7w

    Sunflower, my eyes want you more than a melody.
    ~ Harry Styles ❤️
    @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    His orbs glisten
    like they are the only stars sparkling my no moon nights.
    And his laugh lines, they contract to crease my universe expanding through infinite dimensions in his love.


    ©ish_ika

  • ish_ika 7w

    I bask in the sun
    and dare the waterworks
    from my moist eyes
    to burst rainbows out of them,
    pacifying my cheeks
    while they labor
    to extract gold from the gleam of rays.



    ©ish_ika

  • ish_ika 7w

    All I could scent

    @mirakee @writersnetwork
    Thank you WN ❤️

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    At the end of the day, my concerns arrive numb at nothingness, not failing, for all that I fancy to be the special scents in my garden, water them from my can of silver, each bug I pick up with bare hands, soil my shirts in the sandy loam, of pots painted with my brightest brushes, fascinate me no more.

    What if I want to scent and sniff no more? Not failing, I ask my senses.


    ©ish_ika

  • ish_ika 7w

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #pod

    Thank you for the repost @writersnetwork ❤️

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    I write
    For the glimpses
    Of my blunt graphite
    Agonising in the ink faded
    Over tattered white wood pulp
    And the left latex crumbs to clear away scums.


    I write
    For the glimpses
    Of my love for love
    Bragging in the tempers I sulked
    Over randomness adhered through words
    And the left unsaid to write in exemplars unseen.



    ©ish_ika

  • ish_ika 8w

    Plucking on my heart
    Walled by nylon strings
    Plays psalms
    Thy love flowing within



    ©ish_ika

  • ish_ika 8w

    Recorded, are Victors
    They rival before rise.
    Rival, Allies and Axis
    Rise the First World War
    Rival, Hitler and Mussolini
    Rise the Second World War.
    They arrive before decline. .
    Decline the Mughals and Marathas
    Arrive the Rajputs
    Decline the Portuguese and Dutch
    Arrive the British.

    Skipped betwixt, are a few fractions
    Of the gnaw of hunger pangs
    In starving homes.
    Of the innocence in lads
    Bullied through battle bases.
    Of the experience of grannies
    Toiling as nurses.
    Of the beauty of goddesses
    Peeling off skin naked for copper cents.
    Of the Turkish tenants in foreign land
    Butchered by foreign plagues.
    Of losses of Losers
    Losing for victors.

    A few fractions observed of the whole happened
    A few fractions perceived of the whole observed
    A few fractions recorded of the whole perceived
    A few fractions jotted down of the whole recorded
    A few fractions published of the whole jotted down

    And a whole rest of past human experience
    Published a history of a few filtered fractions.
    ©ish_ika




    //This is about how a whole lot of human experiences, ideas and practices, the background massacres and sufferings that formed the past and affected the history, aren't always put in light by the historians.
    Rather than telling to not repeat history, we should focus on not repeating the past, which is the whole of the reality.//

    @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    Not
    All Past admires History

  • ish_ika 10w

    'We're distant
    My black, your white
    Your black, my white.'
    You're right.

    Still and all
    Let's talk grey.
    And the 256 other shades of grey
    Your screen can show.
    And their infinite combinations
    Of their infinite permutations
    You can see.

    Still and all
    Do you see?
    You put limits to your greys
    And put blames on your inability
    To sense them apart.

    Still and all
    Do you want to see?
    You start to roll your naive wheel of monochrome
    Each time. Different speed.
    You grain the moments in observations
    And heap the years in experiments.

    Still and all
    Spectrum the black and white on pallet.
    And grey yourself.
    Relax in the smoke
    As you zing in the slate
    Blush with the puce
    As you put a lump in throat with charcoal.

    This time a little less distant
    Your grey, my grey
    My grey, your grey
    We're right.


    //Life isn't always black or white. Instead, it is a spectrum of grey which we happen to seek with chances and feats. There are different opinions and further variations in the same opinions. How close we can get to each other, traversing through these variations, is what it is all about acceptance.

    This writing is a progression showing how the differences when first noticed, are looked down upon.The most important is, do we even want to see the greys to acceptance? With awareness, comes the next part of working on yourself as we get to jumble through sorts of people and situations for lifetime. We feel and learn to fill up these gaps between shades.
    It starts from oneself to reach the society at large. //

    Smoke, slate, puce, charcoal: some of the shades of grey

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #pod

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    Grey

    This time
    A little less distant
    ©ish_ika

  • ish_ika 10w

    Words can be ironic to beliefs
    (Atheism is not a belief but absence of belief)

    @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    'Let me feel your bruise
    For I
    Would be the prayer
    Unless a healer'

    Preached, The Atheist


    ©ish_ika