• 3f4fbd6057abb56fb6f158c84bc6c24b ericwk 2w

    Wild Flower’d

    White dove
    digested seed
    sounded ’coos
    carried distantly.

    Down valley’d
    virile soils
    sown released
    retentive life.

    Livened sense.

    Spurred growth
    germination due
    destined blooms
    budding stemmed.

    Suffusive pollens
    pistil stamen
    sex protrudes
    potent nature.

    Natals flaunt.

    Flora profound
    pervasive scent
    scattered around
    alluring display.

    Dappling hues
    heartily expressed
    emerald viridity
    vivid wondrously.

    Wild Flower’d. Love and hope ascends.

    ©ericwk ~ an EWK Poe'em

  • A3c85aa5d014f104df53af8250c9b4fb samarlexis 2w

    @divokost @jeelpatel @_tanvi_ @writersnetwork
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #MirakeeWorld #pod

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    Different rules

    Its 4 in the morning and me and my sister are riding in the winter wind.
    She's driving and I'm hugging her,
    Our jackets are fighting bravely against the biting air,
    But I know I'm safe,
    But I'm overwhelmed,
    How much do I share with this person,
    This body,
    That is almost my own,
    Beyond the same genetic structure,
    She smells like my mother,
    Her hands holding strong are my dad telling me to come home,
    Her voice over the phone is my grandmother asking if I'm well,
    Beyond our blood and name,
    When she raises her angry eyes in a stubborn rage, I see a 16 year old mirror,
    Her laugh is my childhood being pressed together in a staccato burst of seconds,
    Her pronunciation of the word "model" is my attempt at sounding funny,
    The way she makes her coffee, it often tastes like my own
    Our ribs are intersecting points of shared growth,
    We are not siblings anymore,
    We are splits of a soul that at once chose both sides of a crossroad,
    But metaphors can't mask the fact that no matter how much we reflect each other,
    She must play by different rules,
    She must because of her breasts,
    Because of the blood that gushes out of her every month,
    Because of the fact that life has chosen her to create it anew,
    Because she is a she,
    Thus she will always be,
    Subject to terms and conditions that my contract doesn't have,
    My contract is a VIP pass,
    Hers is often a back row ticket,
    The "script" says,
    My role is to laugh at the table,
    While she rehearses her monologue in the kitchen,
    She'll always look back,
    Her eyes no longer long lashed chocolate,
    But radars sensing potential threats,
    She'll always think before wearing anything that allows her navel to see light,
    Her heart will always run that one bit faster at the sound of a second set of feet....
    And often her voice will be
    a cello in a lilting background,
    Beautiful but often unheard....
    She will, I guess, always play by different rules,
    But then I realise,
    So will I.
    So must I.
    I'll never be as deep as her,
    She'll always be an abyss of light,
    And I no more than some sea...
    My tears will never be as welcome as hers,
    My care never as celebrated,
    Those who underestimate me will never rue their birth so much,
    The siege of my honour will never prompt men to sail seas to war,
    I will never be able to create a beating heart,
    My blood wont ever feed a living mouth.
    And the poems,
    Oh God the poems!
    Never will the poems conjure me so much,
    Words wont often fail at describing me,
    I too am playing by different rules,
    Maybe this divide is a double edged blade,
    A merging track,
    And we are both trains sprinting full pace,
    Maybe I'm as hurt as her,
    Maybe she is as free as me.
    And maybe this doesn't matter,
    Because my father loves my mother,
    And I laugh like her you see,
    And as the drive ends I realise,
    That my sister laughs like me.

    When she got her first period I promised her,
    That we might play by different rules,
    But we will always play together.
    The same team.
    Her and Me.


  • 694af2cef60b22cda8651c290b393a8d amber_blue 2w

    Remember, what I said the night I held your hand,
    And what remained unsaid when my eyes were shut.
    Remember, the good I found in you,
    And the bad I shut to
    and everything I said about stars and the moon.

    Remember me as a summer day,
    Yellow, bright, warm in a glorious haze
    and the tale, I told you about the village,
    far in lands, a wife, a husband, and a rocking chair.
    and how they spent the rest of their days,
    I couldn't end it as they had so much to say.

    Remember, I do not recall those winter nights,
    or the cold and frost,
    When I write you on pages I turned off,
    You were and will be a hero, who fought my villains and never gave up on.

    Maybe, I lost the key somewhere back home,
    Maybe, I lost it on purpose, so it could all end well.


  • 9a0b2394984eeaa75a4090caca866d55 seanna 2w

    I listen to a lot of punk rock music and things and it just inspired me to write this.
    @mirakee @writersnetwork #mirakee #shine #truecolors

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    Dark side

    Some people call me insane
    Because of all the thoughts that run through my head, the persona that I inspire, and my actions.

    Welcome to my life. Enjoy the show.

    Depression poisons my thoughts.
    The sight of blood makes me smile.
    The pain makes me laugh.

    Enjoy my gallery.

    Knives are my pencils.
    People are my paper.
    And what’s left when I’m done is
    My art.

    Enjoy my playlist.

    Screams are my music.
    The horror left on their face
    When I’m finished is my delight.


  • B60809ea4e646ffbe9ddc0d46ffcfc63 fallen_42 2w

    When skinny girl gets fat
    (From the eye of bully)

    Skinny girl
    Pencil heels
    Heart beats
    Oh you skinny girl
    The jingle bells
    And your ear rings
    As you walk on the land
    We love to give you hand
    For today the wind whirls fiercly
    Oh you skinny girl
    Your frock twirls
    Just like you might do
    Protect yourself for you might fly away
    Like a dove
    And we will laugh
    Oh we will laugh our fates away
    Don't you see skinny girl
    You are an advertisement to the tantrums of our children
    Eat that broccoli or be that skinny girl
    Oh sweet little pencil skinny girl
    Why do you cry
    Tears roll down or do they fall straight
    Because we feast on your self esteem every day
    Lock that door
    Pick that blade
    And pierce your thin skin
    As it bleeds confidence
    Until what remains is a skinny girl
    With a lose outfit
    Oh you need to eat more
    Look, your wrist is the size of our brain
    My brain drained across the flushes of hell
    But well
    Skinny girl
    What would you wear
    When we tear you apart
    As you cry in the gallery behind your hostel room
    Your waist is tiny
    We wrap our ego around
    And it forms two loops
    You skinny girl
    We will haunt you
    Taunt you
    Flaunt my rotting mind
    But damn you skinny girl
    We were just being kind
    And you turned Me into a poetry
    You thin hands
    And long arms
    You sunken cheeks
    And self harms
    Behind the closed door
    Silly girl skinny girl
    Lying on the floor
    From vomiting too hard
    She over ate today
    And now she lies like a clay
    Ready to be moulded into a whimper or a cry
    We spy
    Over her blue veins
    Skinny girl
    We know
    Your blood drains
    Down the corridors of the hostel room
    As your mother pops the question again and again
    "Did you have your breakfast?"
    Skinny girl
    How can we forget the layers of fat
    Over your butt
    And laugh it off as flat ass
    Oh what a sass
    To finally see you gain weight
    As you hate
    Your body so much
    You are afraid to touch
    The hair that fall
    The skin that cries
    And the heart that beats still
    Your heart beats still
    Skinny girl
    You look healthy now
    As you eat food covered in layers of anxiety
    And pray to your local diety
    To make you fat
    Skinny girl you sat
    On the bench near us
    And do you hear me
    We were heavy around you
    we stood up suddenly
    And you grew cold in shame
    Skinny girl your body is to be blamed
    You have put on weight
    As layers of hate deposit under you skin
    Skinny girl you couldnt keep us under your chin
    Oh you look beautiful today
    You have changed
    The pants in the closed fits you now
    Do you vow
    To never forget us
    As we devoured you alive
    And you took a knife
    To your throat and slashed it open
    One day
    Skinny girl
    You found your way
    Oh you died despite
    But your casket isnt heavy to hold
    We are sorry to mould
    you into something your weren't meant to be
    You were always free
    Skinny girl we didn't chain you
    But today
    Your autopsy says
    "Died due to a wake heart"
    Skinny girl is a skeleton now
    And we are falling off the closets
    Like sticks
    Our heads buried in shame
    Who to blame
    The shopkeeper who laughed
    When you wore a size too small
    Or the aunt that called you too thin
    You ate protein powders
    Skinny girl you grew silent, your body's screams louder
    Until it reached our ears
    But you had to wear the final shroud
    Skinny girl we are so proud
    To tame your skin like a Hunter
    Oh what a blunder
    You died instead
    You could have just eaten more
    Skinny girl your story is our gore
    Your body is now degenrated and hard to find
    You revenge taker, poetry maker, we were just being kind

  • D230e82b4295b82139932bf743d314b8 clifton2 2w

    Not The Best

    Because I'm no spelling bee,
    Words arrive naturally,
    But I write them so hastily.
    Isn't part of my defence,
    I'd rather stay in the present tense,
    Rather than seek opulence.
    My imperfections are detected,
    Only failure's resurrected,
    With arrogance, infected,
    Picking faults, seems glamorous,
    But nobody passes every test,
    Especially me, I'm not the best.

  • 8aa3dc5102c54e80fdfdc355bc11709c the_late_night_tales 2w

    The door of
    the fortress of my solitude
    is always open,
    yet I prefer to remain here forever
    because how can I leave your shadow
    engraved in my loneliness behind?
    Oh! my love, how can I risk losing
    the only thing I have of yours?


  • 0cbfee692c27a7ad2d484531f3fc11aa artemiswrites 2w

    In a book propped open on my lap,
    I see a friend with open arms
    In the rustle of pages,
    I hear comforting words and inside jokes
    In books,
    I see warmth and a refuge,
    I see a hearth,
    I see Home.

  • 5148bc911c1005ef0117b5ee1f304b91 sourav_dey 2w

    "Education begins at home." My father has always been a preacher of this phrase and now, the 21 year old me, who's old enough to understand the whereabouts of this happening world, gets how important the phrase was and still is. A child learns what he sees and does whatever his mind perceives. His actions are a result of the upbringing, the society, the culture and everything that influences him and shapes his future. Maybe, the root is at fault. Maybe, we are at fault.

    We live in a country where mother is kept on par with God. But it breaks my heart to find the region where goddesses are worshipped with the utmost devotion, in such a pathetic state of moral crisis. Be it mob lynching for the most fatuous issues or raping in the name of religion, our country isn't new to anything. It's true when people say that crime doesn't see name, age, status or relation. Be it an infant, or your boss, your friend or your own damn daughter, if you have ill intentions breeding in your head then even God cannot stop you.

    God forbid anything of this colour happens to your close ones yet try keeping your sister or your daughter in that scenario and imagine. She's sitting right there by the couch, all curled up and scared, with her sacred yet scarred soul trying everything to escape the worldly presence. Your heart cringed, didn't it? Just imagine what the victim's family has to go through. Just imagine what the victim herself has to go through.

    Informal education and awareness has become so important. Please, it's an earnest request, teach your young ones, your siblings and even if required, your elder ones the importance of mutual respect and love. Before having any ill thoughts, even as an individual, one should think about the way he has seen or has wanted to see his parents treat each other and himself. Maybe, it might help him reconsider his decision.

    So hereby I conclude by quoting my mother's favourite line, "Agar kisika bhala na kar sako, toh kisika bura bhi na karo."
    Sourav Dey.

    @writersnetwork @fireblast_ @pocketsmile @sumana_chakraborty @mirakee @asmakhan @zenith_ @tomorrow_is_amazing @dusky_dawn @nocturnal_muse_ #writersnetwork #readwriteunite #love #heart #ceesreposts #pod #mirakee

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  • Missing new small tega_benny 2w

    @mirakee @writersnetwork

    Betty molly wants some flower
    Dear oh dear she's stuck in her tower
    Get the handyman over the mower
    Betty molly wants some flowers

    Down the lane and out the gate
    To the florist he ran in haste
    If only he knew what flower
    Oh dear me he got a cauliflower

    Betty molly wants some flower
    Not a giant cauliflower
    Out again he ran and went
    Poor handy will surely get some sweat

    Pick pick pick pick all the flowers
    Handy picked them all of summer
    Wallflower mayflower some chinese flower
    Hurray! Hurray!! Betty molly cheered she got her flowers

    Image Credit: Sarah Kay

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    Betty molly