Mirakee
The Reply
I saw the enveloped message but purposely left it unopened.
My heart was beating rapidly and I found it hard to breathe. Was it about us? Now, I'll never know. The feeling of the unknown makes me anxious and curious.
Did I do anything wrong? I feel like there is a misunderstanding but I can't fathom the root.
I know we've drifted apart and this whole thing is in shambles.
I know that the rose is no longer appreciated because only the thorn seems to be noticed.
I know the good thing we had going seems so far in the past, when it was only yesterday.
I know that our dreams have been broken, illusions shattered, hope lost, trust dwindling, emotions negative.
Now, I wonder where it all went wrong. Was I unknowingly the cause or did we both let it happen?
We keep drifting apart like the ocean from the beach sand.
It hurts but I keep smiling through the staggering pain. My heart shatters into a million pieces with your silence and indifference. I hope it is my imagination and everything is all dandy and rosy.
I saw your message on the nightstand drawer but I chickened out because I was too scared to discover the contents.
©t_o_anonymous
t_o_anonymous
Curious
-
-
Dawn
The cock crows cuck-a-doo-doo
which signifies the beginning of a new day.
The time to stand up and take responsibility
To till and harvest.
Often times it gets tiring to arise and face the demons of the day
To be the adult you are expected to be
And make something out of yourself.
So the struggle begins
While the tough find ways to weather the storm
And the weak is pushed aside.
Now, the day's work is complete
And night beckons.
All retires home
Some with goodies and others with stones
Alas! home sweet home.
Then the cock crows cuck-a-doo-doo
And the struggle begins anew.
©t_o_anonymous -
Pained
I want for nothing more
Because the basic is fine by me
However, it hurts so much
Because even that seems farfetched.
Every time, I ask about its arrival
But the answer remains the same, 'tomorrow'
It took me a long time to realise that 'tomorrow' seems not the day after
Rather, it is an unforseen future.
Day by day, the discomfort skyrockets
Taking away all feelings of bliss
And leaving behind the gloominess.
All promise for a greener pasture, desolate
All hope for a better time, dashed
And all plans for a better life, shattered.
With nothing to look forward to or fall back to,
All I am left with is a bleak 'tomorrow'
Blame me not for my lost fate
As I have definitely reached my limit.
I think so or not?
©t_o_anonymous -
Tricks of time
Tick...tock...tick...tock... time was going so slow,
At ten, I waited time and again for me to wake up,
And become the adult I have always wanted to be.
Day by day the excitement wore off,
As my dream of becoming an adult didn't come through,
Because time was going so slow.
Now, I am twenty and two,
A lot bigger and reasonable than the ten year old me,
Well, this is what I think, do you?
Now an adult but still waiting for all the goodies that comes with it,
However, time seems to remain stagnant, or is it just slow because little has changed.
I have changed but time seems not to have,
It still remains so slow and drags around,
Or should I say time likes wasting my time?
Because instead of me doing important stuffs, I kept on checking the time.
Then I realised and asked myself,
Why become conscious of time? Why not let it do its thing and you do yours?
Because at the end of the day, you may find out that the slowness of time is an illusion,
An illusion that actually wastes your time.
©t_o_anonymous -
Void
How could I eat a whole buffet and still remain hungry?
How can I have tons of friends and still be lonely?
How can I love so much and still be filled with insecurity?
The void in me is so deep
Like a bottomless pit
That can neither be filled nor blocked,
All that is left is a hollow.
©t_o_anonymous -
You
You coming into my life was the best thing
Prior to the time, I never knew this feeling
Your kindness melts my heart
Your voice intrigues me
And your scent intoxicates me
Like the moth draws to the flame,
So my soul draws to yours.
Like a raging storm, my heart thumps loud whenever you are near
Your presence, a balm to my wounded soul
Cheerful, giving, and loving you are
Selfless, compassionate are the traits you possess
You came into my life and swept me off my feet
For that, I will be eternally grateful.
©t_o_anonymous -
Thought
I have been trying to figure out what went wrong, all to no avail. Where the sweet words that brightened my day, and the teasings that made me blush pink all went to.
Was it something I did wrong? Or are you just tired of me? These thoughts ruminates my mind day and night with no rest in sight. I earnestly hope our love is rekindled and waxes stronger than before, because I can't bear to lose you now.
And if this is the end of the journey, tell me now before I become too invested. Who am I kidding? I already am with no escape route in sight.
I beseech thee therefore, to come clean with me, so that my troubled mind is put in the right direction. Whether it be heartbreak or just a simple fall out.
Put me out of this maddening predicament, so that I don't lose it all.
©t_o_anonymous -
Rain
It begins with light showers
Then the rhythmic beat on the roof
These prepares for the heavy downpour fast approaching or not.
An ideal weather to crawl beneath the duvet
With a romantic novel and a cup of hot chocolate handy
Well, for the single birds .
Cuddling and necking
Forgetting about the duvet
And getting warmth from each other
With the rest of the world far behind them.
Scary and nightmare worthy
With the roars of thunder and chuckles of lightening
Hiding beneath the duvet
Not for warmth but to keep the demons away.
Alas, the comfort vanishes
The honeymoon runs out
And the demons crawl back to their lairs.
Everything becomes normal
As the sun smiles upon all.
©t_o_anonymous
-
ice_adonis
1d
Depression steals a key
and slides right in
It makes itself comfortable
at home, settling into every
crevice of me
yelling silently
clouding my soul
it steals my sight, my body
seizes my heart in its harsh grip
I don't know when it knocked
but I know this is it
It's been here before, remember?
©Ice-Adonis -
galvanizedthoughts
2d
Read MoreAffair under armpits
A boy peers in
Through a key hole
And watches a
a lady of the household
undress as if she were
unfolding an origami masterpiece
she stands sturdy and delicate
like the original origami paper
as the pupils dilate to stalk and eat
the vulnerability etched in her skin
the sun a seer stands watching helplessly
as the lady sways her hips
the boy swears that only the rings of Saturn
the ones he had read from a borrowed encyclopedia
would be an ideal waistband
the thighs as enticing as boneless chicken
and the river of delight that flows in between
the breasts, the cleavage
the buttermilk like skin
as her body, the colour of his favourite biscuits
his lady love is blessed by goddess Rati herself
as he looks away, the boy now is a man
a man who laughs at extra virgin anything
Extra virgin Marie, oil and drinks
and watches movies where boys like him
would turn into men after stalking and ogling
domestic women in the household who would bend
and peer in through keyholes
the keyhole now a father to their manhood
once in a while they would find themselves gazing
at the blasphemous pit of hair under her velvety arms and remember
the days they would trace their feet in the lush grass
and chase the winds and kites alike
and stay under the armpits of the night skies
until they saw a lady of the household
bending to pick the clothes and tieng them to the strings
the white saree tracing her voluptuous curves
as they no longer remained just a boy
© Ayushi Saha 23.01.2021 11.30 am
@writersnetwork @mirakee #pod
Reviews and feedback is very much welcome
Illustration by @/ tinyfarmstudio on IG
@my_cup_of_poetry @khola_hawa
Hair under armpits is a metaphor to show how much of a taboo this subject is and how often it is undermined and overshadowed. We often try to shave the hair under our arms, and also sweat and bad smell often accumulates there and we try to cover it with deodorant. So hair under armpits basically refers to something unpleasant that we try to hide in order to appear more appealing. The way we try to hide the blatant sexualising of MILs, DILs, Sisters maids etc.
-
the_moody_writer_
1d
Read MoreMy grandmother and my mother told us about 'Mohi,' a woman who lived in our village's outskirts. They said that she was a madwoman who brought ignominy to the village. They called her a witch; and was possessed by the evils, she was so beautiful that she wooed girls with her beauty and voice and brainwashed them.
I always wanted to see how witches look like. One afternoon while playing, I excused myself and ran to the outskirts to just have a glance at her. I heard her talk. I waited near her haunted house; never dared to go inside it. Suddenly I heard someone's footsteps. At that moment, I was numb. I saw her walking out wearing a blush pink colour Kurta and white pajama without a dupatta. Her hair was left loose to rest on her shoulder. She talked to some men, I overheard her, and she had the sweetest voice as if the cuckoo sang the sweetest melody. I stood there to have a look at how beautiful she was. She turned around to come back into the house after they left. I saw the village's most beautiful woman; she wore kohl in her eyes, and her lips were the lightest shade of pink. She was dusky and elegant.
It was evening when I returned home. My grandmother asked me where I was, to which I replied, "in the fields, with my friends." She warned me not to stay out for too long. I nodded my head.
I went to help my mother in the kitchen.
I said, "Mother!! What do you think of that witch? Why everyone calls her a witch? Is she powerful?" She said, "I don't know I have not seen her. Everyone here says that she was the only child of her parents, so she was given everything she wanted. This made her greedier, and now she can do anything for it." She warned me to stay away from her; otherwise, I would turn into her.
As a little child, you do what you are warned of. The next day, I went again to her haunted house. I saw the gates were left and saw her sitting with some girls in the garden. Poor girls, they must have been possessed by the witch and are being brainwashed. I wanted to hear her mantras. I went closer to her garden walls. I heard her singing songs, the song of falling in love and falling out of love. I stood there for the whole afternoon listening to her speeches and teachings.
I continued going to her house for months to listen to her mantras. In the course of hearing her, I learned her songs. Her songs were different from what was taught to me from the beginning of my existence. They were songs of strength, belief, happiness, acceptance, and, most importantly, of strong women like Mohi.
I started questioning the difference in opportunities given to me and my brother. I started arguing for considering a woman's perspective in every discussion. I started asking for the necessity to stay in a toxic relationship, the right to fall in love and fall out of love, the right to be empowered. All these questions were answered either by a slap or by a 'no food for the day' policy to make me realize that I should think before I speak.
One fine day, I went to her house, but I walked inside the gate this time. I wanted to listen to Mohi's side of the story. She greeted me with a smile; her smile showed her happiness. I was fearful, so I stuttered while shooting my first question at her, " Why, umm, why they call you a, a, umm, a witch? Do you, you, brainwash girls?"
Mohi smiled and said, " Do I look like a witch?" To which I answered in negative.
She said, " You answered your question."
I asked her why she lived alone. She told me the song of falling in love and falling out of love and accepting it for her happiness. We talked for hours, and while leaving, She held my hand. I was frightened. She said, " Never let anyone decide what is wrong for you and what is right. Do what feels right, even if it turns out to be wrong and you are judged for it. You would still have an experience of what not to do. You have hidden wings; you can fly."
She left my hand; I turned back and hugged her with teary eyes.I never felt so strong. She whispered in my ears, "Everyone fears a strong woman."
I reached home in the evening, and my grandmother asked me the same question, "Where were you?Haven't I told you to return home soon."
I replied, " I was with Mohi."
"Who?"
"The witch!!"
It's been 5 years now. I am what my mother feared the most, " the second Mohi, THE WITCH." I live far away from her, giving life to a few more 'Mohi.'
Pooja Pal
___________________________________________________My grandmother asked me the same question, "Where were you? Haven't I told you to return home soon."
I replied, " I was with Mohi."
"Who?"
"The witch!!"
Pooja Pal -
ayanaa
1d
Read MoreWalking down the high roads ,
all drenched in singing metaphors ,
she walks hand-in-hand with the words,
that are already forgotten by the world,
running her hands through the paint brushes, on the roadside shop ,
stops to the one with golden motifs,
her polychrome eyes now search for colours, she kisses the rainbow paints ,
and takes blacks too,
because she knows the dark sings more beautiful elegies,
intoxicated in the lyrics,
she returns to her cottage home,
places the goods and chattels on the wooden floor ,
sipping her scorched coffee ,
she lays out a flawless canvas,
stroking the bristles of the glossed brush,
she thinks of a way to stain the white,
winds are now smiling, swirling hard,
but outside her window is warm,
Dusk is round the corner ,
the sun bids farewell and the sky turns brown,
her foundling hands tickles the canvas,
as she applies on it , colours, one by one ,
in a bubble where she resides,
she paints herself in poetries ,unsung.
-Ananya
________________________________________
Tell me it makes sense;_;
Thankyou WN. I am grateful ♡´･ᴗ･`♡
(4th)
24.01.2021
#ayana_wn
#high #wod #odetopoetc.
©ayanaa
-
I, me and myself
Hello, I am "Ego", carved in glass, fragile and lonely..
Unpolished and with sharp horns, I am prickly..
I was created as a mirage, for the outsiders..
Somehow on the way forgetting it wasn't all real, sitting on the high chair.
I have been told to hold grudges, being unforgiving and selfish..
Hurtful, I may look but I am a mere shadow protecting the child within..
I was chiseled in the image of my creator with self importance and conceit,
My only two friends are ID and Superego; one is directed by urges and other is driven by morality, both are poles apart and I hang in the balance...
Together we form the iceberg, frozen and hidden
Scared to show my real self, I am often scared
Don't be fooled by my fake bravado, I am a sheep within lion's skin
I am myself, I am Ego.
©nittipathak -
okayckay
13w
Read MoreLong time, no see!
I hope you guys are still here and writing
@whitewings @iamjass @krishnegaPoetry may not
affirm my trust
in tomorrows,
but it does
cajole me into
weathering
the storms
of todays.
© OKayCKay -
starrdust
13w
Read MoreBeneath the sweet smile
lie crooked teeth,
every twinkle in eye,
the remnant of eerie dreams,
warmth you see,
heartless if you see through.
//dead inside//
©starrdust
______________________________________________________
Drawing by me:")
@mirakee @writersnetwork
@thousand_splendid_thoughts @raika @vivenne
#artquill©starrdust
-
soulfulstirrings
13w
Read More#creativearena @odysseus @sumana_chakraborty @preetkanwal
Image credit to the rightful owner .Nostalgia
And then one fine day ..
Fade away I shall like that sunset does
Into the thin line of the horizon ..
Leaving behind no traces of my existence ..
Just a memory in your mind
Of the colours I was .
©soulfulstirrings -
sweet_whimsy
45w
Every little love story pauses
When expectations make the entry.
©painted_pain -
suicidal
If you see her
laying,
on mattress
painfully,
If you see her
sinking,
on a pool a
sloppily,
If you see her
drinking booze
crazily,
If you see her
sleeping
on blood
brutally
don't ask,
why?
She is committed
to turmoil
chaos friend-zoned
her like a rosy
thread stitching
grey gown
endurance seems
a massive tale
forged to manipulate,
tangible truth
granting some
odds to preys
She wrangled from
dusk to dawn
beneath spring to
rainy monsoon
but eventually,
raw blade
worshipped
the mild strings
of her pale hand,
a frigid bed sheet
wrapped with
red blood
another victim of
brutal manias
ensued in the
name of suicide
©fairytales_
