imma regret these write ups the next week..

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  • maple_ 17w

    I often fabricate fantasies about places I wish to live in. A town, seldom visited by any being, where seasons could be discerned by their own distinct beauty, leaves carelessly slipping from faint wintry air.
    Unlike me, cautiously walking on slippery streets after a sudden downpour, consequence of an undefined dull weather. Panting under the rushed skies, my chest demanded a slow exhale ; eyes, a lively tranquility and ears craved a hush.

    So, I looked around the busy street, often overlooked by me. And after a much easier gait, suddenly the flickering street lamps were more like gleaming celestial bodies floating admist the cosmos, but nearer. Hollers of those mid-aged vendors calling out customers were now some parent passionately singing rhymes of their well-off, sweet, shiny mouth-watering fruits and vegetables grown under their nurture.
    And the street went to a much softer pace, a place I wished for, was just a fantasy away. Wandering on the street, my shoulders collided with strangers alike, but they didn't care, maybe because they are lost in their own fantasies.


    Another super wierd piece.
    I'll change this bg later maybe...??

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    A fantasy away...

  • maple_ 18w

    But tonight, there was a tinge of sadness in her voice as he held her waist through that slinky-black-gown she wore for their anniversary, embracing the contours of her palms with his fingers, delecate as ever.

    Perfuming her voluptuous flesh with jasmines, she ornamented herself with a pleasant piece of jewel. A crystal pendent beautifying her faint collarbone was now strangling her neck as she realised, the murky smell of his ciggerettes was melded with that of lavender. But she smelt jasmines?


    Temporary. It's wierd.

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  • maple_ 18w

    Downpour which was screeching to my ear
    and scribbling love songs for some,
    was now dawdling softly on roof shingles
    and making outlandish sounds
    which perfectly entitled a song,
    silence would hum.

    Strolling in those drenched streets,
    I walked on brimmed potholes
    which reflected the night sky,
    on roads that were carpeted
    with clouds and dimmed stars.
    I sat one of the raindrops
    hanging loosely on frail tips
    of shrubs that resided
    on each corner of street
    on my index finger
    and watched
    this tiny piece of rain
    melting to my palm.


    Editing this for the 5th time,
    Coz I've got nothing to do. Sorry��


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    After rain...

  • maple_ 23w

    Sorry. lol ^.^

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    my lips craves you,
    as dawn scatters
    through the hushed skies
    and the last ecstasy
    they wants to taste,
    as darkness knocks the door
    with a platter
    of somnolent eyes.
    Steams on my glasses
    with constant touches
    of my sober mouth with
    that one edge of yours
    makes me uncomfortable.
    So I close my hazel blinks
    and sway
    on the warmth
    you soded my belly with...
    and sing to you
    I love
    I love
    I love you,


  • maple_ 24w

    now bidding goodbyes
    to their aged, rusty leaves
    With wind,
    proffering them her softest embrace
    now Flowing,
    Flapping their dry wings
    Flying as moths with ecstasy

    once adorned the branches,
    now embellishing the grounds
    Contrasts in patterns, shapes and colour
    Red, grey and shades of brown
    But making a beautiful mess
    Like lovers, poles apart
    Harmonising in love.
    Shrouding the cold sombre street
    With warmth
    Of a heavy cotton quilt.

    Cold winds,
    piercing through my ear
    Singing welcoming tunes
    For forthcoming winter.
    For leaves,
    then covered with rainy mists
    will now be graced with winter ammil....


    PS :- ' kõyõ ' refers autumn-leaves in japanese. I just find this word adorable ��❤

    @writersbay #picturec @writersnetwork

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  • maple_ 25w

    I'm lying in a stygian confined space
    Of what I assume is a pine wood-case
    And to my surprise
    I'm no claustrophobic.
    Of what it smells like some fragrant blooms
    Breathing their last breaths above my chest
    roses, babies breath, some hand picked lilacs
    But Lilies is all I smelt.
    Of what I've read
    lilies symbolised
    purity but sheer death.

    I can't sense my feets,
    Now frozen
    longing for warmth and apricity
    I hear wind
    there was a time,
    I could feel it on my face

    Seasons have passed
    For all that is left on the flowers
    are their little twigs
    For I hear weeps no more
    All I hear is dry leaves-wilted petals
    making noises frail
    as they move with the rhythm of wintry gale
    I remember,
    It sounded of trickles,
    from an hour long pour
    On rocks and spec of grasses that grew on me
    That was when I smelt the purest petrichore
    At times,
    I couldn't trace nights or dawn
    But now that I know
    When baby wrens utter their lively charms
    And when the ineluctable silence
    invites gloom in her arms

    Years went by
    I'm now a part of this inevitable place
    residing under morning haze ...


    Apricity :- warmth of the sun
    Wren :- a tiny singing bird
    Ineluctable :- unable to be avoided
    Inevitable :- certain to happen


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    I'm now a part of this inevitable place
    residing under morning haze


  • maple_ 25w

    That One vignette of 'l o v e'
    is still unknown....

    For Aristotle defines love as
    " to will the good of another "
    For Gottfried
    " to be delighted
    by the happiness of another "

    is the most adored
    theme for artists
    since ages went by.
    I think that One vignette
    is what they try to find

    With two dancers,
    giving a glistening
    glimpse of intimacy
    by intertwining their
    fingers as the performance ends

    Or a painter,
    beautifying the star-crossed lovers
    inspired by Shakespearen tragedy
    of the glorious-gloomy romance
    between romeo and juliet,
    which lasted for four days
    but lived for an eternity

    Or a poet ,
    Who must've penned
    his sweetest ballad
    when he first fell
    for her jejune heart
    Jotted his vulnerability
    as he watches her
    turning into fine dust
    while still in his arms
    as she went back to welkin

    For her,
    It's like that soft musical
    which she can't get tired listning to,
    even after playing it myriad of times
    Or a tiny droplet of silt
    That gives the softest
    embrace to her palm
    whilst she caress the air
    with her hands
    escaping the window frame

    But she knows
    That One vignette of 'l o v e'
    is still unknown....


    Vignette :- a brief vivid description
    Jejune :- juvenile
    Welkin :- heaven, sky


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    That One vignette of 'l o v e'


  • maple_ 35w

    Reminisce it's past
    As dry leaves fall silently...


  • maple_ 37w

    2:30 a.m.
    Another sleepless night
    Leaving me with myriad epiphanies
    where my hand-washed bedding
    and the softened pillowcase
    are unable to caress me to sleep

    so I sqeezed myself near this
    uncomfortable window frame,
    hearing the silent lullabies
    sung by the winds

    Glaring at the seren moon
    I wispered
    ' from time to time
    the cloud gives rest
    to moon beholder '
    - A haiku by Matsuo Basho

    I wonder if the almighty missed snow,
    just as I do,
    It's why I see these flaky stars

    Some winged wanderers,
    still looking
    for a branch to sojourn,
    just like my soul,
    a lost pedestrian
    still foraging a shelter
    hoping the shelter will last.

    I wonder,
    "if the birds will find a branch
    To sleep on ? "
    "If my soul will find a shelter
    That'll last ? "

    this endless string of musing breaks,
    as the crisp summer breeze
    brushes my lost countenance gently
    leaving a glimpse of autumn as it flow

    But with the ancestral air cooler
    fixated in my room since ages
    it gets wintry.

    So I draped myself
    with my favorite blanket
    Knitted by my favorite
    pair of wrinkled hands

    and smelt the bliss
    from the freshly watered
    flower pot.

    I realised,
    that my soul
    Is a pedestrian no more
    It lives,
    in those lullabies,
    in the serenity of cosmos,
    in autumn fall,
    in my grandmaa's blanket,
    in the earthy smell of soggy soil,

    This soul lives
    in Basho's haiku,
    between these verses.
    I realised, my soul
    is a pedestrian no more

    And I saw
    the tiny birds were a wanderer no more
    even they found a shelter,
    a branch of my garden.
    and so the night
    weaved soothing sleeps....



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    from time to time
    the cloud gives rest
    to moon beholder

    -Matsuo basho

  • maple_ 37w

    I was listening to the sparrows
    Guess they were tuning their tiny throats
    to match a perfect pitch
    for their perfect 'bird song'

    But every morning
    I hear them
    dwindling their melodies
    just to listen
    to the mellow of her anklets
    when she strolls around

    Her hairs
    gently tickling her cheek
    swings with the same cadence
    as the winds

    Their are some old songs
    she hums,
    with her seren voice.
    But the balladry,
    her bangles make
    while making those delicacies
    will always be
    an epitome of a soothing musical

    I witness those white roses
    covering the ambience
    with their fragrant petals

    But in the evenings
    I hear the white roses
    lessening their fragrance
    just to smell
    that velvety aroma she carries
    with those jasmines
    adorning her loosen braid...



    #mothersDay ❤❤

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