You would never believe me if I told you that I have seen a tale of flowers and dead flowers. The continuous realms of abandoned walls, speaking a language to be deciphered.
Sometimes,I fall in love with trays of colours,a texture,a yellow tainted page,a temple. For they speak a language that tells me of spiral existence.
I believe in surreal backdrop image,a flimsy boat anchored nearby where the river meets the ocean adds to the omen of things to come.
I've met a girl who talks about stars like they're the only ones that ever made sense to her and told me how they stayed up all night listening to her insanity like it all makes sense.
I remember the rare night I may have left behind from my life. The darkness no longer denies my demise. I listen for the silence of the world at rest,a stillness that eclipses that fading light. We all have a story and poetry buried within us. Sometimes. But it's true and I can prove it .
It's just one little girl, clutching her pillow at night as she goes through her third packet of chocolate Oreos It's the girl that looks down at the floor when you wave to her because she doesn't believe that anyone would be excited to see her. It's the girl who pretends to not like people anyway.
It's just a little girl who doesn't know much about the wounded side of her but her deepest wounds are hidden in those darkest corners of her heart where your love light can't reach.
It's the girl who feels like she's failing in making herself the right one. She screams out,makes the mountain of words;but all is in her mind.
It's the girl who's building up a storm inside her and now she's tired. But still, she's afraid to open it up. She doesn't care about the cracks and the destructions this storm is creating in her. All she cares is that if one day she explodes with these things,how this world is going to handle that.
It's the girl who has told the world that she's way too young to romanticize the trickles of light from a world more than a million miles away.
There are some things that she's not ready to talk about just yet.
It's the girl who wants to slam herself against the wall some days and jostle herself until she realizes that no one can be like her.
It's the girl who's not having a voice where she's yearning to be heard. It's the girl who hasn't learnt to be sympathetic,so don't ask her to console a crying wreck.
It's the girl who can see when you didn't smile,or make eye contact,but the anguish would turn your grey eyes green, you'd just stare at the ground while she wants to hold your face in her hands and say it's okay !
It's the girl who can make you began gazing the skies full of stars,with much more wonder. She redeemed her belief in miracles. It's the girl who feels light in the shadows. She sees the sun beneath the stormy skies. It's the girl who loves to whisper her wishes to the rain more than to the meteor shower.
PS: Today I've completed 2 years on mirakee ! Thank you @mirakee@writersnetwork and all the wonderful wonderful people of mirakee for immense love and support. It's all because of you that I'm here. Words and verbose,true love forever and always. ♥️♥️ Loud cheers to all those who have been a part of my journey to a fable.
And and this poem is very close to my heart which I wrote when I actually didn't even know what writing is. So yeah kinda repost of same poem from where I started.
The known yet intriguing scents, blanketed in black and white with a tinge of gold filling the air similar to that of a scattered flower.
Let her sail away to a distant,wondrous land where her dreams form streams that flow, Where her thoughts have no limits to know.
She dreams in colors that drive away the blues. She wants to swivel in the freedom of the wind. Her fragrance spreads gently with a breeze.
She doesn't let the cloud of silences of today evaporate amidst the giggles of tomorrow. She never let's anyone catch her when she's vulnerable, she doesn't see the point in sharing her hurt.
She doesn't let herself explode. She listens. She understands.
Sometimes she wakes up sobbing uncontrollably in the middle of the night like as if she's about to lose her breath and die. She's the cosmos of her own wicked nature.
She's the lover of words. She loves the words more than the entire universe. She's the museum of shifted identities;a galaxy of romanticized dreams and passion.
She's a fickle woman made of fire, she's fragile. She doesn't pretend to be anyone other than the woman she is. She's the woman who doesn't give a damn about destiny and refuse to give up now.
She has finally found her happiness because she has come to know about herself; She stays curious about everything and gazed by everything,she is the author of her book, creator of her universe,she is the galaxy of her own self.
She wants to be an elf that lives forever And is exceptionally good at archery.
While you're out walking in the woods, as man folk mate who beckons With eyes that see beauty in everything With a heart that expands with visions to write. To live peacefully in oneness She's such a beautiful young girl, With a heart filled with holy light, The birds greet her as if she's snow white.
Feeling enchanted and believing in magic, She sings her feelings. She wants to traverse the ocean, experience the wonders, travel spewing tales of magic, Where daisies sing like little birds. She has found her rhythm in the flutters of her joyous flight.
She'll be a beautiful puny fly spreading herself between flowers. Embarked on these feelings, you'll be someone great,not someone like Taylor but yourself.
She wonders how the paper itself holds up when you're freezing the moment, igniting frizzling Sparks. She admires your freedom.
You're up on a stake You're fire Deep down in your words lying the serenity. Through the grace of your soul seek for a girl with green stars in her eyes,the sultry shades of blue,the seaweed shades of green and all the iridescent hues. Like the gentlest of rain ,may my verse stir your spirit to remind you life is joyful and to help you feel at ease.
I could go forever but here I stop. -Richa 9.03.19
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. Don't let your winter arrive having not done anything.
The dissonant chords and consonant chords dance in harmonically progressive orbits that create cloudy tempests.
For everything that occurs in life finds a place in poetic compositions. "Let your poetry unite the voices to recite the healing hymns".
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.
The beauty that has to be seen, blue of sea and sky, and grass so green, the beauty of the ordinary, looked at again.
A silent kind of loudest cry A scalding tear that froze my lie A broken clock that ticks my days.
I’m sorry for I keep talking in a language you don’t get. It’s a habit I don’t seem to be losing. But, I guess it’s also okay. Because, I don’t expect to be understood when I don’t understand it myself, anyway.
Like 'Midas' turned everything into gold when being touched,why not sorrow can be touched with tenderness of love and caring and being converted into happiness.
Well I question ?
Shine so beautifully and leave everything which makes your brightness dull.The gentle waves, a lovely song whispering peace, peace, peace it goes on and on, for ever long, The inside of my heart is now at ease
In dreams at night, my soul flies light across the seas, across the sky– What does it take to keep awake for hopes to soar for dreams to roar?
And then I wondered which story I wanted to end. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.Life is not so much about beginnings and endings as it is about going on and on and on. It is about muddling through the middle.”
Picked up Shakespeare's line from "The Tempest" "Here my soul speak" My small gesture, my love and respect for the father of tragedy, romance and English literature ❤ William Shakespeare
HAPPY WORLD BOOK DAY ♥ ♥
ODE TO BOOK -----------------------
The shelves are heavy laden, with smell of woods The spine stood tightly packed So many books lined up like soldiers Covers are carrying certain fabric elegance Flamboyant vermilion rays they are disseminating There's a certain glimpse in their soul Like the roses with dew drops in watery vase It's just they are whispering "Love me whole"
We have been together since my natural Anesthetic mind found sapid of solace Season throughout season, I have enveloped My imaginations, tied up in divine Pigeon's wings And she flies towards the nectar world of wisdom I allow myself all fantasies singing by the authors
In this full moon night, I'm not alone, I never be In labyrinth of diurnal life, I've my backbone to speak Curtains of poetry, novel, stories gently shake In this old faded room and make it Heaven of Haniel Where nelipot writers walk on the cracked floor Heal the melancholy of the circumambient I'm drifting in bathos, reciting Shakespeare's verses "HERE MY SOUL SPEAK "
My love dances on pages of new new books Like smell of first rain of spring day joy Of page turning excitement of learning new words Of playing explorer and discovering new worlds Of growing my attention span as tall as Amazonian tree, as if I'm climbing to the apple of Revolution
Of characters I'm painting with smile in my eyes Of sketching with metaphors, imagery and rhymes Of feeding my imaginations by sinking in plots Of finding myself and making peace with verses Of learning new colours for my emotion, I touch You up it'll feel like touching a newborn bairn I love to get lost in the forest of redolent waves To find a world beyond reality....