Have you ever heard two hearts beating,
Tracing time along the contours
Of destiny?
Have you observed miracles happening,
Denuding the flesh of hope
Off fear?
Have you thought how would it be,
If I were you and you were me?
What if faces deny to differ
In the dark and in the light
And agree to water the soil
Away from hate, away from fight?
- D
-
coldplaydreams 6w
Diverse as we are, similar so are we
It's the mind that clears the haze
And helps us see what we see -
T H E B O X
Before the bell rang once again my tiffin box was empty, just like her startled eyes at the very moment when she was asked to read from "The Canterville Ghost" after Bebo was asked to stop. She was definitely not listening to the reader, leave alone comprehending. But, I couldn't stop myself from helping her, because before she was asked to stand up, she was laughing at the joke I had cracked about Alivia Ma'am. With the aloo parantha stuffed in my mouth, I whispered, "page 7, last line". And she hurried through the pages and started with a bang! Oh my God, her voice was dulcet. All the guys who were sleeping woke up to gaze at her. There was no Act-II popcorn to enjoy the show. Ma'am warned her, but who cares? Hurray, it was tiffin break. The drumbeats over the desks, paper ball showers, rush in the corridors, cacophonous primary wing - the effect was increase in entropy. It was endless fun, smiles, it was a merry ride, except exams I understand, haha! But this is not about Trisha's voice or Bebo's blabbering. This is about a mere box. The box that kept me awake till the end of the fourth period. The box that instantly brought a spark in every kid's face. The box that felt like a drop of home even in the distant desert, the harsh cold or amidst the traffic.
I am not talking about Sunfeast Mom's Magic, Maggi Magic masala or Magic Moments! I am talking about the brand we all carried. It's THE TIFFIN. Do you remember those days? Or do you still carry one to the JEE, CA, UPSC coaching or to your job? I carry the box still. Now the difference hits hard. Since the day I stepped out of home, I miss mum's roti tadka or chowmein. These days it's either fruits or light snacks. During the lockdown I had bought Borosil lunch box as I had to carry lunch during the long 12 hour shifts. And what to complain about the cook's meals. Ahh! sometimes it's too oily. The idea of marriage sometimes knocks my mind too, not often like you all, sometimes, rarely when I miss that taste and love. I mean I don't miss love in general, here I wink.
For years, this box not only carries food, but emotions. For a kid, it might be the colours over the box, but for us it's an escape. The tiffin break is when a million ideas bloom, a million thoughts run the circus in any milieu. It also reveals the relations we have, we share. As humans we have a basic instinct to compete. Do you compete while you offer your bestie a breadcrumb? Get a checkup if you do. The happiness is never unaccommodating. It drowns us all, me and you.
- D -
I should've known
I'd leave alone
Just goes to show
That the blood you bleed
Is just the blood you owe
We were a pair
But I saw you there
Too much to bear
You were my life
But life is far away from fair
Was I stupid to love you?
Was I reckless to help?
Was it obvious to everybody else
That I'd fallen for a lie?
You were never on my side
Fool me once, fool me twice
Are you death or paradise?
Now you'll never see me cry
There's just no time to die -
It's a shame how the patriarchal society treats a girl,
Whereas the same girl with her life and blood
Gives birth to a society -
coldplaydreams 11w
"God knows better and mother knows the best"
- Shah Rukh Khan -
In the face of war
Where souls remain unfed
This world needs a shower of love -
coldplaydreams 12w
The very fact that our time is limited might be a curse or blessing depending upon how we treat this ever elastic dimension as.
-
The cusps hedge all my pain
In the fireplace
That knows no warmth
Since the day you left.
I shiver not in cold
Cause the love that turned to ashes
Has embellished this pale skin
With words that still shimmer.
Tonight, the sky echoes scenes
Which convulse with the shadows
Of the flicker,
Yet I yearn for more
Alms from this living stone
That bears your name.
~D -
coldplaydreams 15w
Every moment is a story,
Every hum is a song,
Every stroke is a painting
That I keep for long.
I figure out the theme
And knit my brow
To recite it to you
Right then and now
~D -
A beautiful sky, scattered words over the table, a splash of colours, chirping birds, a few mails to go through and the eager typewriter waiting, almost everything in life is pretty much sorted- dreams, soon to come true!
-
skyline_ 1w
Unfair
I smacked rose tinted gloss on my lips
Another insecurity slipped from my pocket
I white washed social stigma
And continued eyebrow contouring
Braided my hair and tucked the anxiety
Odds on my skin shone bright as jewels
The gold choker would have choked my trachea
If I had tightened it while trying it for first time
A craving stooped down to seek the answers
And clichés continued to play the hopscotch
Is it right to blame the mule
For the one night stand of donkey and horse?
A four square tic tac toe was on the bed
My father hurled a Y and mother sanctified a X
They completed a row and the game was over
A child was born but it ended in nought
I clutched feminity and smiled behind the pleats
They nullified it and switched to next row
No one asked permission before my birth
I chose my identity and mishaps adopted me
Sand bullets and red bricks are being kind
Towards the cavity holding an arrow
And hollow fond of plus sign
This cuckoo nest is a quagmire welcomed me
With a bogus smile and goblet of bigotry
I am the crow stuck in the same row
-Maryam.
-
Oozing yellow
Sunsets, sunflowers and
smells of my metaphors
make me fly on the welkin of poetries
when your love departs from my megalopolis.
The town is bleed'g yellow these days || bidya -
landscape 48w
Bridges
I am done with
the aroma of summer,
now let my pain be absorbed in ashes
In autumn, I would be free,
I won't be in constellations
I won't be the calligraphy you call home
I would be one of those old sand grains;
Vagabond.
- c o r a l -
landscape 9w
এহেন কবি তুললেন বিবাদ,
কাঁটা কহে নীরব আজও
গোলাপের আর্তনাদ।
- c o r a l -
landscape 2w
Heartbeats
gonna be in war
with you at times
until you seek refuge
in yourself.
- coral -
A love ; not-so-cherished
I dipped my heart in a chalice of love and
went for stargazing ; after I came back,
i found it scarred, betrayed and paralyzed.
|| The background was murmuring
an abysmal song of storm ||
~bidya -
rhythmic_beats 2w
Boat of pearls- hope
Seashells- prayer
Fearing storm will make you a big failure, but sailing through this storm and reaching the seashore will make you a warrior.
#storm #wod
#life #poetry
#rhythmic_beats #writersnetwork #miraquillSong of strom
The courageous tears flowing
Through poetry is
Song of storm which was
A nightmare but now a crown
Radiating the warrior in me.
Storms are not the doorway to death,
But the door to reincarnate yourself,
To sculpture yourself like the characters
You yearned to be from your
Favourite novels and poetry.
I was sweeped away by the
Caribbean waves, washed away
To many islands,
Sometimes the sun was standing
On my head, and sometimes
Thunderstorm was singing death bells.
The chords and music were terrible
But I changed the lyrics of this storm,
As it was me who had the power to
Change the fate, either to be
A warrior or failure!
I swam through the waves by riding
The boat of pearls, and the
Seashells were the shield during
This voyage.
Seashore was singing welcome songs
And the sky crowned me twilight diamonds
As treasure of my victory for singing
The song of storm so courageously
And adding the rhymes of warrior to the song.
Today this song of storm smells
Coffee beans, smudged on
The vintage poetic pages,
In the lap of Amazon forest.
©rhythmic_beats -
M(US)IC
And darling,
The kaleidoscopic anklets
and the bangles of betrayal
which you had gifted me,now
It plays the song of storm
When the tranquility starts
To melt on my sinful
s i l h o u e t t e.
©unspokenpen1927 -
_solitaire_ 4w
Some people do not have any proper beginning or an ending yet they fit perfectly in a specific phase of our life like a phrase does in a specific gap of a sentence.
©_solitaire_ -
Poetry is worship too.
Everyone who reads aren't
disciples few happens
to be atheists...
©his_aesthetic_ink
