pointingpoems

@verbose here ! 21 | Actual people read my words and they care enough about them to tell me this |

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  • pointingpoems 5d

    8.08.2020
    #thingsofjoy @allbymyself (Felt like writing for your prompt and trust me I smiled all the way writing this. Thank you !)
    #writersnetwork @writersnetwork #pod @mirakee

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    Some mornings while it's still dark, we hear the most beautiful magic.To be walking barefoot on the slightly wet grass as the dawn breaks, walking slowly in wonder of hues and shades of the skies, soft and golden sunlight as sunlit honey caressing the face, eyes slowly curling up to collect metaphors and nerves humming the verses of beauty. Soon, you feel like words are gathering around your wrist like a bracelet so beautiful, and you feel so good about letting the words float into you again.

    -Richa (pointingpoems)

  • pointingpoems 1w

    Oh what an elusive statement to find yourself caged in the arms of dark fiction while listening to old greek melodies sipping coffee holding "the secret history". Classic literature not only hold the whole world inside themselves but the unknown facts of human existence and this race of well being in between pages and between lines, in each comma, in brevity of language, in each full stop, all the paragraphs, in monologues and in covers.

    Mark Twain quoted "kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see" isn't it enough for the crowd to set the bars on fire, fire of kindness, of love, of compassion. We're told to become an epitome of success to be written in history books but what if we are meant to be someone which some famous poets left unsaid, unfinished in their great works and we still long for their closures.

    We've read Austen, Hemingway, George Eliot, Oscar Wilde, Herman, Shakespeare and the list continues to be some hundreds but what we learnt from all of them is momentarily pleasures. Pleasure of faking being a reader, being an understanding person, being admirers, being lovers, being dreamers, being someone. But we forgot being specific.

    When Bukowski wrote "The free soul is rare, but you know it when you see it - basically because you feel good, very good, when you are near or with them", this gave eyes some sparkles while reading but we failed as humans in proving humanity in proving this world that what we read, we are. We are not. Everytime, in nothing or something there is always war inside us between options and their choices.

    The delicacy of humanity is still left somewhere I believe afterall it's our belief, yours and mine that we're still striving towards being worthy, being head turners not in way of impressing but expressing. This world needs lots and lots of good thoughts, patience and good vibes. It would be truly a wonderful way to wake the senses, gift art of rawness, dwelling deeply into the desires of unknown, beauty of things and be proud of that. Afterall we humans find poetry in everything and make them adorable.

    -Richa (pointingpoems)
    6.08.2020

  • pointingpoems 1w

    Life isn't meant to be simple,not always going to be planned. And so we should remember to take opportunities where we can do all the things we want to work, write, travel,dance,sing,cook.

    The dissonant chords and consonant chords dance in harmonically progressive orbits that create cloudy tempests. Don't let your winter arrive having not done anything.

    I laugh some moments, marveling that I can make up stuff and convince people. But I embrace the deeper lesson that opportunity isn't so much something that shows up, as something to create. Don't wait for your life.

    Life doesn't stop at only one or few windows. It does takes a lot of courage to realise this and much more courage to lose few things.

    -Richa (pointingpoems)
    **SENDING POWER TO YOUR WAY**

    5.08.2020 |All written rights reserved|

    #writersnetwork #readwriteunite #mirakee #writersbay #ceesreposts @writersnetwork

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    Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word 'happy' would lose it's meaning if it were not balanced by sadness.

    -Carl Jung

  • pointingpoems 1w

    The world of words fascinate me. I paint my characters with ease who come alive, as I dress them with magical verses. The silent airy blow takes me to this land to live the stories never been told. Every season that I would greet, would've me gazing at the sand's and sun's meet.

    The world of words fascinate me and embrace me in arms of dreams as I felt a kiss of warmth snatching all my fear. I rearrange the disquieting into a silver canopy of serenity, finding peace in my eccentricity.

    The world of words fascinate me, I write and write till my head hurts. Till my soul let out the negative feelings buried inside. Till I shed few tears because even my own tears have somehow betrayed me. I'll write it back in my diary when the one's appearance showing it's worth to stargaze and dream.

    The world of words fascinate me to the new land of songs and lives and awakened longings, the hope of new beginnings. In times of joy, in times of unabashed celebrations, in times of grief, uncertainty or pain, what I do ?! I write.

    A writer choreograph words to make verses-pushing through with silent beautiful art. Dance and sing and the words shine with a graceful beauty. A beauty known only to us as "WRITING".

    -Richa (pointingpoems)
    1.08.2020 | Dedicated to all writers | ��
    Image -google
    All written rights reserved !
    #writersnetwork #mirakee #writersbay #pod #ceesreposts #readwriteunite @writersnetwork @mirakee

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    The world of words fascinate me !
    (Read caption)

    -Richa (pointingpoems)

  • pointingpoems 2w

    I wish of endless possibilities celebrating myself each day, everyday.


    ©pointingpoems

  • pointingpoems 2w

    I like the town on rainy nights with views of tall buildings and empty streets left forlorn all day long. As the droplets fall over my windowpane I try to draw random structures on them or write a letter or may be a name with my finger and soon erase it as I don't want next droplet to read what I wrote.

    I like the town on rainy nights with the patter of rain and clatters along the roofs. The emptiness outside somehow fills me with immense peace and pleasure reminding me of nature's pearls and it's ecstacy.

    Soon enough with the petrichor scenting my spirit, my soul blowing away to lose it's identity in the poetic winds.

    -Richa (pointingpoems)

  • pointingpoems 2w

    She sketches stars under sky full of moonlight, a silent moment in a place and time that mortals may never know. She's a moon girl, moonlight is her friend and dawn is her escape.

    -Richa(pointingpoems)

  • pointingpoems 2w

    27.07.2020

    One from my lost account.

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  • pointingpoems 2w

    She captures joys and tears to create an image that expresses that moment in time highlighting and shadowing. She captures and engraves moments on the stones that the mighty tides couldn't wipe. She captures her dreams in verses in a twirling pattern and allows herself to be free from the state of obliviousness.

    -Richa (pointingpoems)

  • pointingpoems 3w

    I stitch dainty blooms that create thoughts and smiles without effort breathing in the heady scent of exotic lilies, I feel gruntled for the blessings that finds me waiting with open hands. Odours lightly happy, lightly tipsy stitching charming smiles and weaving stories for untold times. I believe I'm contented to stitch life in shades of vibrant ecstacy, solely of kind of happy thoughts, hues of different shades of love, looking in and romancing with the past.

    I stitch my poetry in meaningless sentences, with vague thoughts, with half broken and hallowed mind burning the midnight oil I write a poem of light and I feel gruntled and gusted with every word I write. I merely stitch a masterpiece or near to that but I'm gruntled to reflect myself on the wonder of aliveness, composing myself into stanzas and nudging those stars as alphabets.

    I'm stitching the book of my life, each day a new page, a new mindset and metaphor, for I know life is like the weather forever changing. I'm gruntled with the fact that best stories here are the ones leavened with wonder and a sense of relativity, and which allow a little room for love and kindness. I stitch my words like the gentlest of rain that stir your spirit to remind you life is joyful and to help you feel at ease. Embarking on these feelings, I can say you'll be someone great, not someone like Taylor but yourself.

    -Richa (25.07.2020)

    Here 'I' is 'you' all ��

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #writersbay #pod #wod #stitch #gruntledc @writersnetwork @mirakee @writersbay #readwriteunite

    I tried to submit my words for both @mirakee and @writersbay for today's respective words. ��

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    I merely stitch a masterpiece or near to that but I feel gruntled to reflect myself on the wonder of aliveness.

    -Richa(@pointingpoems)