I like the town in the rainy nights Pitter-patter rhythm recollects my presence Feels like i am inside a wooden cabin Enjoying soothing vibes in wilderness,Nostalgia Natural view of mizzle,raindrops on window panes Slipping downwards like skating over rink of glaze Loving their place where drops are destined to fall Listening symphonies of nerve relaxing waves Ecstacy of cool wind,pleasant bubbles appears in the ground,floats and then vanishes with a pop Thunderbolt show;orange clap,silver lining,hues of blue threads in the dark sky A kind of satisfaction evokes inside my heart Earthy smell in the gathering of angry clouds A power nap in the woods living out of the woods #poetrywednesday
#concoct@danielalucia Concoct a red syrup of hibiscus tea I'm befuddled in bareness;stress Too thirsty for harmonious drowse Wanna drench in the rain of vintage nostalgia
I reached there,where i swinged in Ferris wheel of imaginations Built nest and saw hatching vermilion bird chicks As saying goes "If i don't dream someone else will use my creative force to materialise theirs" Don't wanna a marionette,me to have right to dream,all i need is dare and faith as i believe in extant of red cinnaber Dream is that place where my power lies cause Once i was whole made up from dream when i had peace in my heart Hibiscus always witnessed whole nine yards
After waking up, Living or remaining dead is at a distance of choice & will to prosper. Sobered from pain and stress of straying in purgatory through agility to haste. Reveries of longing marked the footsteps to walk over them among the graves of fear. Resurgence
#prettypic306 The one who teaches,first learns under moonlight. Every moonlight should revise and preserve essence of purity to serve that teaching. Looking in own life,events,thoughts Absorbing truth where is needed too,correcting faithfully which is dooming crystal clear reflection of water,keeping discipline alive as a true disciple Giving a lovely experience,spellbound stories to ignite fond of dream in innocent hearts. Some are sitting blue in orange lightning Gazing moon,hazy eyes
Hard times strengthens faith in beliefs If virtues are followed strictly without loosing patience in storms. The light will shine more brighter than ever,a warrior will come out stronger as graduate in fighting battles and skilled in origami of stances Who knows how to create a better world using own techniques,no giving up when whole world is against,opposes,demoralises Booming of self-love i.e. confidence
You pointers are your highlights Red your life,you need it most to make a change in you My life's Destiny don't need them As you had never listened nor believed Only passed that i shouldn't believe in me though My vision will take me there,i don't need your views about it Stop controlling others destinies,human is not god Everyone has vision to go there where person belongs Don't force and tame me,its not care but your own fear while your beliefs damaging my soul purpose Focus on your own purpose,you are not perfect or right when you are not living your responsibilities.
A boaring human being roaming aimless,no excitement Nothing to burn up soul,missing flutters of daydreams Keep yourself alive! Believe in dreams though. Path of smiles and adventure Life needs imaginations not a mould of rough schedule passed by society to bury own soul in the tomb of hopeless,no possibilities beyond eyes,no growth etc. Like a weary machine,it not survival its a dummy. Life by faith in imaginations and don't listen when world says this is way to live. We are particles of possibilities not a carbon of copy,paste.
You know this time is tough for all of us , none of us is used to it , and it is very normal for us to feel lonely and down , I barely go outside , because my dad is very protective of me , and I don't blame him he cares for me and our family, I still go to my old neighbors house once in two weeks or once a week and I feel so much better then , and I was not feeling good from yesterday , Yesterday I didn't talk about it , I thought it would pass , and there was no reason to feel that way , and today it became worse , I couldn't stop crying , I wasn't able to smile , I tried going in sunlight and it didn't work too , I tried phone for distraction didn't work too , I tried watching funny series on tv didn't work too , It was not the first time I felt that way , its not something I feel on a daily basis , But I knew what to do , but I was afraid , I didn't knew of how to explain it to my family , I was having a battle in my mind to whether to talk about it or not, How would they react , will they understand , I didn't even talked today , I didn't even heard my voice today , But then I knew what the right thing was , I took the courage , and I told to mummy and papa that I don't feel good , This quarantine is hard , When will everything be normal again , When will I be able to go to school , I wanna go outside Then I said its been five months I am a human Papa goes to office and he at least meets two people other than me mummy and my brother I was crying like a 5 year old , My voice was all shaky , I was crying I know they didn't have all the answers , But everyone needs someone sometimes saying that everything will be okay Even though you know that everything will be okay , They made me laugh and they listened to me , I cried as much I wanted to I really wanted to cry , and I did without any hesitation, I felt so much better , I was able to smile , I felt light , Then I went through some old pictures, I cried a lot , I feel so proud of myself that I didn't hide and cried in the washroom alone , I cried in front of people , I was brave enough to express my vulnerability, It is so important to talk , I couldn't emphasis it enough , When I was a young teen maybe 12 or 13 when something happened an argument or anything , I used to write letters to god and then after I was done writing I felt so much better than I burnt those letters I still do that I have been distant to god these days , But we are still friends , and we would catch up again , Then sometimes I would talk to my elder brother , Or to my online friends , or to myself in the washroom (im not crazy ) I act like someone is taking my interview and answer them and it brings so much peace and clarity , and even if I write here , I feel light and I feel that part of me is gone , All my routine is messed up because I am lazy af, and that's a big reason for all of this mess , But I will make sense out of it Be brave enough to express your vulnerability and plz communicate its so important specially in these days and If there are things you cant talk to parents about write a letter to god or talk to a friend But never keep it bottled up inside , I really do feel better , Be wise
A traditional Japanese haiku is a three-line poem with seventeen syllables, written in a 5/7/5 syllable count. Often focusing on images from nature, haiku emphasizes simplicity, intensity, and directness of expression.
The words in the background is an example of haiku created by @aaditya long ago
For any queries ask in comment section and make sure to check the syllable count. • Chin count method: Rest your hand under your chin and say a word slowly. How many times does your chin drop onto your hand? That is the number of syllables
@void Thankyou for this challenge and I hope my story did some justice to it. I'm really sorry that it's long.
Sometimes we forget to enjoy our blessed lives, healthy body, filled stomach and respected identity. My name, religion, skin colour and caste was never my choice, then how did it become my identity ?
I'M A NOBODY WITHOUT A CASTE
Each rain drop pierced into my weary skin hurting every inch of my collapsing body, I could hear their footsteps closer as I ran farther away from my college ground. I needed answers to the horror I just witnessed in my room, yet the taste of blood in my mouth knew that I should run.....run for my life.
But why should I escape, I have lost him forever. Even when the excruciating pain of the dagger tore my flesh apart, an unbearable grief circled me, darker than the cold nights I survived being tortured by them.
My eyes searched for his letter, now stained in my blood and welled up in despair reading the traumatic lines. "I tried really hard my friend, I can't take it anymore, they are severing me into pieces, I want you to finish what we started and this letter might keep you alive if it reaches the right hands. I'm not doing this for you, it is for us and for the first time I don't want you to come with me."
I pulled the dagger out of my body letting the scream of anger escape into the deserted alley, and broke into a sprint burning all the energy left in me. I felt my bones twisting, blood draining and skin exfoliating, I counted every breathe as my last one. Even when the pain was blackening me out, I could measure the depth of my wound damaging my body tissues.
That's how good we both were although he would have been a better doctor. He knew how to face the people, their problems but the one quality that made me jealous of him was his ability to hide the pain. He could do it all alone without giving up, every single time.
Every night when he returned to the room with swollen eyes and a bruised body, I would ask him "Why do you let them do this to you, let's file a complaint or let's go beat them up like in our old days"
"I'm stronger than you skinny boy, I can handle this. Complaints make no change for people like us. Lets wait until we pass." he would reply with playful eyes and a broad smile.
A smile he had the day we first met in school for lunch where we were separated from the rest of the students to eat. We were together right from the day I started realising that I was unlike other students, tagged as born in a low class family.
But my biggest happiness was his friendship. For some strange reasons it felt better to be left alone with him by my side. He was my saviour when my father died unable to bear the burden of being a slave to landlords, he taught me to run faster to prevent being hit by other kids, he often took some that came my way as well.
I never knew what happened to his family, I never dared to ask him, all I did was count the tears he shed talking about them. Once walking back to home from school, he started crying and my 10 year old self stood there watching him. Later, I took him to my home and from that day onwards he grew up with me sharing the same books, torn clothes and hunger.
We grew up among those men who called us the depressed people, drowning in poverty and solitude with dreams he shared at sleepless nights "We have to study harder to prove that there are questions only we can answer unlike our complexion. If our identity bothers them, let's be a nobody without a caste." and then we would laugh whole heartedly filling our empty stomach.
I still remember the taste of the field corn he gave me when we got selected into a medical college. He hugged me tight, hiding his happy tears. No man could have ever been happier than us that day and for the first time in my life, I felt the bliss of pain and hard work.
Bleeding the last hope to survive, I dragged myself to the police station. Hands came rushing to catch me from falling, and rushed me inside. I was spitting blood as I bellowed " they killed him, they killed my friend, it's not a suicide, they killed my brother ". I heard the rustling of paper and voice asking for my name and details. With a heartbreaking smile I extended his letter and said "I'm a nobody without a caste."