4107 posts
  • sproutedseeds 4h


    Dear Diary,
    Today was an ordinary day but I do not know while walking through that crowded street, out of nowhere, I felt this sudden rush of happiness inside me. It was strange I could smell the scent of something delicious being
    cooked in a nearby house and I got attracted like a magnet with the aroma of the happiness tempered with joy, laughter and chirping kids.

    I couldn't hold back myself as this was what I was yearning for to taste all these years after loosing my family in the devastating flood.

    This aroma is the essence of a happy family
    An asset of life.
    © sprouted seeds

  • venus93 10h


    Dear diary,

    Today was an ordinary day but I do not know why while walking through that crowded street, out of nowhere i felt this sudden rush of happiness inside me it was strange. I could smell the scent of something delicious being cooked in a nearby house and it took me back to my childhood and to my grandma's kitchen, where she used to cook all sorts of delicacies for us grandchildren when we visited her during vacations.

    We would watch TV in the hall or play in the courtyard , all the while leaving a part of our senses back there in the kitchen , taking in the inviting aromas wafting in. When others seemed to be too engrossed in a movie or a boardgame or a catch me if you can, I would surreptitiously slip inside the kitchen, sweet talk to grandma and get a taste of what's being cooked before everyone else did. While I eagerly dived into the piping hot dish , she would lovingly admonish me to take care not to burn my fingers or my mouth. That love and care used to make the already heavenly dish taste even better. How I miss her ! If only I could turn back time ..

    Who knew a casual walk through a crowded street would end up as a wonderful trip down memory lane !

  • radnika 12h

    Dear Diary

    Dear Diary,

    Today was an ordinary day

    But I do not know why

    While walking through that crowded street

    Out of nowhere

    I felt a sudden rush of happiness inside me.

    It was strange

    I could smell the scent of something delicious

    Being cooked in a nearby house

    And a savoury memory brought a smile

    To the heart and the lips.

    Round as a full moon, golden as the sun

    Puranpolis doled out by the score

    For hungry kids drenched to the core

    Rushing in and out of houses

    In a multicolored hue, celebrating Holi.

    The entire street smelling heavenly

    Caressing the taste buds and

    In every household a treat made ready

    For the young and old alike

    Revealing in the festival of colours.

    The vermilion and the kesari

    The pink, yellow and blue

    Myriad colours to match the mood

    A celebration of the hues of life

    Sweet and savoury as the delicious food.

    Oh! The happiness it springs in me

    The innocence and sweetness 

    The delight of those carefree times

    The taste of the puranpoli drenched in ghee

    Like the embrace of a cool breeze

    On a hot summer's day.


  • priya__gupta__ 12h

    Dear Diary
    Today was an ordinary day, but I don't know why while walking through that crowded street, out of nowhere. I felt this sudden rush of happiness inside me. It was strange. I could smell the scent of something delicious being cooked in nearby house and then I went and saw a child who was playing around her mother while she is cooking....
    And sudden I remember the day when I was a kid and also my mom used to cook some delicious food for me and I were playing around her....
    After seeing that child and her mother memories started hurting me....

    @miraquill @writersnetwork @readwriteunite

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    The tastes of childhood,
    Live with us through life.

    Mother's child
    Remembers well,
    The sounds, the tastes,
    The smells.

    The early morning rise,
    Is soothed.
    A fun filled day,

    It links us
    To each others world,
    A reference for all time.
    A time to be remembered,
    When Mother cooked sublime!

    Embroidered picture on the wall,
    The words stitched,
    Evermore recall, "This is my house!
    And I do as I dammed well please!"

  • smartsam 13h

    My Dear Diary!

    Hi my beloved diary!
    Im back to you & I'm sure
    you too are smiling!

    I think our friendship
    is best because
    It's without quarrel, arguments
    & no trouble at all!

    You take in whatever
    I note in your pageful heart!

    I think you are not just
    a diary to me
    But much more than that!

    You are my old friend.
    You know all my stories,
    past, future plans,
    secrets & memories!

    The best thing I love
    about you & I'm happy
    that you never ever
    gossip to others about
    me & my secrets!

    Tell you true my dear
    Diary friend!
    In this cold hearted world -
    You. Yes you alone are my loyal pal!
    My true friend always
    without any grudge at all!

    When I tell you all or simply write in your open heartful pages - Oh! Diary I feel so relieving,
    calm & ease!

    In fact my closest friend
    I feel so better & tranquil
    besides I see myself more clearly!

    So no doubt I wonder
    how much should I thank you for this loyal friendship
    my dear diary!

    Dear Diary you are my
    ECG of my heart!
    Yes my secret best friend
    I love you
    My beloved Diary!


  • skiper 13h


    हे डे
    स्वागत है तुम्हारा आज फिर से नई शुरुआत के लिए
    कल का दर्द तो सुना ही होगा तुमने मेरा तुमसे क्या छिपाना
    एक तुम ही तो हो जहां बिना डरे बिना सोचे मैं कुछ भी कह देती हु
    कुछ भी बोल देती हु कुछ भी पूछ लेती हु
    कल उसने मुझसे अपना हक ले लिया
    तो आज की पन्ने पे मैं लिखूंगी की
    किसी पे इतना हक मत जताना कभी
    की वो आपसे उसपे हक करने का
    सारा हक ही छीन ले और आप अकेले
    रह जाओ किसी पे उतना ही हक जताना
    जब तक उसे परेशानी न हो नही तो
    वो थक जाएगा और आप अकेले

  • miraquill 13h

    Complete the diary entry.

    #writingcontest #contest #creativearena

    Head to Creative Arena to participate in this writing contest and win a trophy!

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    Complete the diary entry.

    A diary entry is a personal record of an individual to store his/ her emotions, thoughts or feelings.
    --For this challenge complete the following diary entry starting with---

    Dear Diary,
    Today was an ordinary day, but I do not know why while walking through that crowded street , out of nowhere I felt this sudden rush of happiness inside me. It was strange. I could smell the scent of something delicious being cooked in a nearby house and....

  • winter_moon 1d

    Hi 🍁♥️
    First of all, 😬 I apologize for being sluggish and a soul left without words...

    2. 🌻 I thank you all, for still adoring me 😍 and boosting me for all the things I've been writing.

    3. @Miraquill + all of my favourite writers and readers, 🍁🌻 it's my 3rd year using Miraquill, (although I've always been lazy to post stuff) and those years have given me the ability to still be the best of me. 🍁🌻♥️ Thank you again. 🌻♥️

    @rameez @tasneem53 @countablyinfinite @asmakhan @accionpoetica @thoughtfull_writer @falak_k @fahidhameed @twinkling_girl @iam_rose @poetrynowar @writersnetwork @_aasia @mirakee_reposter @zubair_ @fazilahfayaz @mirzajasia @tabsp_ @aleesa @sheikhaehsann @litrazor @amsterdam @i_repost @sheikh_huzaifa @saima__ @sayyaf

    @Miraquill (Mirakee) is my 2nd love 😍 The first being the one that gave me painful words, or maybe made me feel blank 😬

    (here is something that I tried to write: again 🍁🌻)

    #writingcontest #contest #creativearena #miraquil #writersnetwork
    #start #wod


    Endings are not always as peaceful as sunsets,
    And your gaze that curls down:
    Amongst my nightfalls.

    The morn prayers are always a gift,
    and your lips sprinkling a smile:
    amongst my dawn’s blessings.

    The last sprinkles of alcohol are not always pain-relieving,
    And you, supporting my bitter words :
    Amongst the last drops of alcohol.

    Graveyards always blossom as gardens,
    And me, fenced-in your heart (a cemetery):
    Amongst the dead who survives.


    Comment down your views on my writing skills 👉👈 And keep showing your love ♥️🍁

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    Endings are not always as peaceful as sunsets...

    Graveyards always blossom as gardens,
    And me, fenced-in your heart (a cemetery):
    Amongst the dead who survives.


  • lonesome_artist 2d


    Participate in writing contests hosted in the Creative Arena.

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    Alison's Life

    Alison rushed to the garden early morning to pluck roses and lilies. Thereafter she went straight to her father's home. It have been years her parents separated. She lived with her mother and she is also used to not being with his father. He chose to accept the truth even when she was sad. It's hard not to have a whole family but that's just the way life is.
    She is also happy with her mother, she is not neglected and she always takes care of him even when she is still working.
    Her mother taught her a lot, how to cook, clean the house, do laundry and how to iron properly.
    She also taught  to study. Correct pronunciation, world histories and how to calculate. She also taught respect for elders, humility, and helping others.
    She can say that even without a father beside him, her  mother is more than willing to raise him even without a father.
    Maybe you are wondering why they are separated because
    her father with had  another woman. Her mother could no longer bear the pain his father was inflicting so her mother separated from him
    She couldn't do anything because she was still young and all she could do was cry..
    She remembers his mother saying "It's no better to be single than to have a married partner  it's like you're in hell '... And as I grew older I gradually came to understand the things and events of life.
    So she tries to be strong and brave like her mother. A Mother who is great, resilient, never giving up on life’s challenges.
    I want to be like him. A Mother who despite struggling still continues to resist because of me.
    She is proud to have a mother who loves him. She forgot the moments of sadness and replaced them with joy, because she had a mother who would fight for him and not leave.
    Alison said to herself. You are a good role model my mother. The good you have done for me I will repay more than you have given me. I will try to keep what I said. The time will come when I will replace you. My beloved mother. And may the Lord God bless you always. "I love you mom".


    The former dark cloud
    Has been replaced by bright skies
    The heart used to be full of sorrow
    Now overflowing with joy.
    It doesn't always rain
    It also stops
    Like a teary eye
    It’s also exhausting
    In exchange for pleasure
    There is a smile on the lips
    And the eyes are shining


  • lylbeeez 2d

    Completed the story...

    It had been years since she had seen her father, after her parents separated, Alison's father was shut out by her mother, & Alison was so young she didn't quite understand anything at all. Growing up Alison had came up with her own reasons why her parents originally separated, and why her father just disappeared. She had so many questions for her father, since her mother always kept her in the dark. "Finally, well, here it goes", Alison said quietly after taking a deep breath and knocking on her father's door.

  • winter_moon 3d

    (Maybe I’ve lost all words: and that’s the saddest part about me)

    Some readers would read a line and scroll, some might be wondering about the life I've had.

    July 23, 2021
    11:26 am
    Dear past,
    The attic was like the bewitched place full of messes, where the dried up vegetables laid in the hue of poverty. The aroma of tomatoes and onions seemed to be burnt out in the flame of miserable sunshine.

    A few innocent pursuits had been coloured by me and my sister, where we had a glamorous mother, and an enormous cottage, dad would be a joyous man, and we would devour life like a glass of wine.

    The watercolours seemed pale, jaundiced. And the life appeared diseased, but we would laugh, no matter what.

    The garden wasn't a garden indeed, it seemed to be a necropolis of unborn bouquets. The teacher would scold me for being the only child who wouldn't bring her flowers.
    I would tell her, the buds would die in her hair, but not that the blossom had never been born in our home.

    I would rather tend to be a guilty child than an unhappy one.

    We were taught to smile at everyone and laugh at everything. Because it was better to be seen as careless than being watched for kindness.

    We wanted to be helped with respect and not for prayers. We wanted to be loved for love and not for being poor.

    The rusty sludge room taught us lessons, to appear cheerful and appreciative, always.

    Who peeks at the worms in the dirt of soil, when the flowers chuckle and dance?


    Comment down your views on my writing skills 👉👈

    #writingcontest #contest #creativearena #miraquil #writersnetwork

    @rameez @tasneem53 @countablyinfinite @asmakhan @accionpoetica @thoughtfull_writer @falak_k @fahidhameed @twinkling_girl @iam_rose @poetrynowar @writersnetwork @_aasia @mirakee_reposter @zubair_ @fazilahfayaz @mirzajasia @tabsp_ @aleesa @sheikhaehsann @litrazor @amsterdam @i_repost @sheikh_huzaifa @saima__ @sayyaf

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    July 23, 2021

    Dear past,

    Who peeks at the worms in the dirt of soil, when the flowers chuckle and dance?


  • majesty_ 4d

    Dark soul

    Here he stands
    Alone but not when
    Where does he go
    Into the hearts of men
    Fear it's hunger
    He laughs in delight
    For he was just a stranger
    Now he's your best friend at night

  • majesty_ 4d

    The U.r.g.e

    The urge
    Is that what its called
    The urge to follow
    The urge to trust
    The urge to wallow
    The urge to discuss
    The urge to be good
    It's in God's hands
    But my urge to speak out
    Is What's pulling me towards revenge
    Knocked out of character
    Look what I made myself do
    the urge to get even
    Bright like morning dew
    That's why I'm leaving
    And that's on you
    The urge to get angry
    It was high on my list
    But was only there a memory
    Now festering within this dead heart of mine
    Breaking the rules, I thought I could cheat
    They say revenge is best served cold
    My revenge is so cold you'll register it as heat

  • winter_moon 5d

    Mornings bring endless battlefields
    And Evenings bring the ache of the scrapes,
    What is lost to a man who had lost all his shields,
    And what shall he win when he doesn't have a dream,
    Dreams: poet writes in the hues of black,
    But he is neither a poet nor a man of vision,
    He is a homeless soul, with no place to lack,
    He is strong and too weak to be someone...


  • poetryly 5d

    Artwork found on iCanvas...credit given to unknown artist.

    #writingcontest #contest #crearivearena

    Yea, yea I know💁🏽 I’m past late to the contest but here’s my completed addition to the opening story,. I just needed to challenge myself even after the fact. Writer’s blocks been on my heels so gotta find various ways to stay on my toes!

    Her Anniversary!
    Alison rushed to the garden to pluck roses and lilies. Thereafter she went straight to her father’s home. It had been years that’s her parents separated. She lived with her mother and on the very day her father departed the home she became a bonafide poet.

    The aftermath of interchanging guileless memories to a marred daughter, unknowingly gifting her a personalized holiday. Yearly, she circles in bold red dripping with crystallized tears on her calendar.

    To solemnly remind first her mother with selective posies than her father of her
    annual bittersweet celebration.

    Read More

    She grew to be a bonafide poet;
    dripping in posiery.

  • ve_di_ka 1w

    Art is that form of creation which is not just passion or part of life rather it is a part of ourselves.
    It is the realistic depiction of those solemn minds who interepret the colours with utmost love...

  • elli_mcfarlane 1w


    Alison rushed to the garden early morning to pluck roses and lilies. Thereafter she went straight to her father's home.

    It had been years that her parents separated. She lived with her mother and knew little of her departed father. Merely two years old, her father's silhouette blending into the fateful night her only memory.

    Losing control, sorrow overwhelming, her father didn't survive the drive that night. Wracked with guilt her mother pinned, refusing to part with their summer home, his home.

    Reaching the door, boarded shut, cobwebs as tangled as her mind, suddenly Alison stopped. Every year this ritual, to place roses and lilies at his door, rushing trying to avoid emotion.

    Then a hand from behind on her shoulder, she knew it was her mother, without turning she knew she was crying, she did every anniversary.

    Reaching up placing my hand over hers, laying my posey with the other. It was just a fight that night that cemented their eternal separation.

    Feeling her hand shaking, guilt and shame overwhelming, turning to her I quietly prayed. Hoping this year she'd be different, somehow in less pain. One look at her eyes conforming she would never be the same.


  • angeljohn 1w

    And as she reached her Father's residence,
    Alison felt suffocated; for since days, her toungue had never pronounced the word 'Papa'..
    Yet, nervously she knocked the door
    and a young Angel, attended to her knock..
    She was surprised and as the shock struck her; all the red roses and snow-like lilies
    tossed onto the ground..
    The small spirit was simultaneously panicked,
    for her visitor's eyes were as red as those Roses
    and her tear drops, resembled the Lilium-petals..

    Followingly, her father arrived, to enquire
    the reason behind his baby-successor's immobility
    and the unanticipated view of his daughter,
    whom he missed until that very second,
    consequently standing before him,
    with the reddish blooms on the floor,
    those he himself had sown once
    for his floweret daughter,
    instantly raised a flush of moisture
    from his orbes, as well..

    Then, the static-silence
    was broken by the juvenile tune,
    who asked- "Yes, Signora?"
    The response was from the host's parent-
    "Baby, my Juliet, not signora but she's your
    sworn friend, your sister and
    you, my elegant daughter Ali,
    this blossoming rose is your father's
    Guardian-Angel and his Angelic-Healer..
    For, it's she, whom I found deserted
    by the darkened-track, I had chosen to stray
    in search of an exit, from this Mortal-physique..

    For, my living tale was themeless
    without your presence..
    But, this cherub arrived as my life's Director
    and sowed the 'seeds of hope' in me,
    and also granted me a reason to breathe..

    Now both of you, are my Rossetes of blood..
    Now I do and will bleed for you, two..
    You have also served me with the belief that,
    your mother; my mate, will retire from her inflame
    and reconsider my love for her, too.. "


  • servingsofmania 1w

    This story has a central LBTQG theme. So thsoe who are liberal only on SM, pls do not read.
    Also I wrote this story in one go, so I apologize for any grammatical errors you may come across.

    #writingcontest #contest #creativearena

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    Short story #contest.

    Alison rushed to the garden in the early morning to pluck some roses and lilies. She was going straight to her father's house after this. It had been years since her parents had separated. She lived with her mother and brother and even though they did not speak to her father ever since he, in her mother's words, betrayed her, her mother had packed his father's favourite apple pies to take to him. Allison hoped this would be a start to rekindle the love they had between them, even though not in the romantic sense.
    She placed the flowers on the passenger seat and flung her holdall in the back. The radio station played some country songs and she felt happy.
    Instead of the main road, she took the lane that meandered through the woods and went past the old mill to reach the little village where her father now lived. When she reached the abandoned mill she got out of her car and walked up to the broken steps. Her father had often brought them to this place for picnics and she wondered if he had shown glimpses of the person he was now, then.
    She thought long and hard but found it difficult to coax out memories from her childhood.

    It was only in the days peading to the divorce that she had found out what was wrong. She did not understand why her mother and Mike were angry at him. Atleast he wasn't having an affair! Atleast he was honest! Her mother had alternated between crying and screaming in anger until one day she finally threw his things out and told him to get lost. That was when Alison saw what he had been hiding all these years. It was as if someone had thrown a bomb on them and everything exploded. Mike had just come back from school at that time and when he saw the fight, he just went to his room and shut the door and his family out. He never spoke to her father again.

    The sudden blare of an arriving car jolted her from her thoughts and she quickly focused on getting to his house before dark. She dialled her boyfriend's number but it was switched off. Probably a drained battery, she said to herself. She wondered what her reaction would be if her boyfriend did the same thing that her dad did. The thought made her uncomfortable and she tweaked the music system's buttons until she found a station playing some pop songs.

    The fairy lights on the two tress by the side of the little gate in front of the house told her she had reached her father's place. His obsessions with fairy lights was well known. As was his obsession with dressing his daughter up. Allison loved those times when he would clip on Tokyo clips on her hair and try out different hairstyles on her. He painted her nails, helped her choose the prettiest shoes, mended her dresses, everything. Her mother was often peeved by all this lavishing of affection on Allison but she just shrugged it off. Now when she thought about it, it all made sense.

    She honked twice before getting out of the car and climbed up the steps to the open door with just the flowers in her hand. She was a little nervous as this would be the first time she would be meeting Robin but she was also very happy for her father. He had finally met someone who understood him.

    Robin rushed to greet her, he squeezed her into a warm embrace and she loved how soft and squishy he felt. She reciprocated with the same gush of affection and it was only when she they released their hug that she saw him. Her father. HER father.

    Her father did not look like her father anymore. Or atleast her old father. His body had changed. His face had changed. But his smile remained the same. His love for her showed in his gesture of hurrying down the stairs to hold her in his warm embrace.

    'How do I look?' he asked.

    'You are the most beautiful woman in the world, daddy, and I love you, even if you call yourself Ruby now' Alison said as she handed them both the pink roses and the lilies she had plucked that day.


  • menokadevi 1w

    Complete the story challenge

    #writingcontest #contest #creativearena

    How to define what is good and what is bad in today's world of headway and trend where each of us hold our own point of view upon every action in life. The reactions out of our actions again pitch's the curve so soon , we find no option but to sit down with blank face for few weeks.
    Therefore, I think we need to be prepared for every actions of TIME AND LIFE .

    Better take care of yourself, you're precious ,born with a purpose so stand strong no matter what and never give up.

    Read More

    Technology today has no doubt made life easy, but I guess we all agree Nothing in this planet comes easy... especially when it comes to *Relationships and Family.

    Multiple attempts failed ,MRS. ELIZA for the fifth time
    was deprived of conceiving her baby .Mr. Rogger was here the one with some physical issues and this time the couple's pain was so intense, they choose option for surrogacy. 'Stella' one of Eliza's friend was the one to donate her womb and finally after nine months the couple were blessed by a beautiful baby girl *Alison'

    It was Christmas Eve when entire Spencer's colony was breathing spring. Mr. Rogger the life and soul of Spencer Street planned such an handsome party that all eye's were off the hook. MRS. ELIZA wife of 'Rogger' too busy with her three month's toddler wearing a bright smile and calm attire sat beneath maple tree to see her husband and friend 'Stella' arranging stuffs for party that night. Fragrance of oatstrawberry cooki, apple- pie , wine- cake was blend in the air , jolly ambience it was untill MR. FRANCE interrupted the part and night of merriment in a minute turned out to be castle of broken hearts.

    Ten years later,

    *Alison rushed to the garden early morning to pluck roses and lilies. Thereafter she went to her father's home.It had been years that her parents separated. She lived with her mother and aunt in* Fenny
    '16th Spencer Street , California. Teen by mind and deprived of parent's love she prayed for Mumma- Paa's smooth reunion each twilight , unaware of the reason behind there seperation. Same day and eve knocks the doorbell and Alison plans a surprise reunion for her parents. It was 6pm ,the doorbell rings, aunt Fenny rushes to open the door and turns speechless. *Stella enters the house followed by Mr. Rogger and Mr.France. MRS. ELIZA burst out of anger upon *Alison , you've taken the wrong foot my child. And then Stella opens her lip's for the first time after 10years 9months...

    STELLA - MY DEAR SIS ELIZA, it was me that night,
    You've mistaken. *Stella and Mr. France caught us on the terrace and even warned us but our passion overspilled and for the send time again, we were caught in your bedroom. *Alison is our daughter, and we are your real culprit please donot hate them my sis...please forgive me.

    Mr. Rogger - Eliza I had to marry you only for family presure, my love my life was and is *Stella. She conceived my baby the day you lost your fifth child. And then I plotted the entire scene, to remain close to my dear one's avoiding all chaos.

    Mrs. Eliza - Great! can you take the pain to clarify the your child...what do you mean by your child!! Mr.Rogger.

    Mr.Rogger- My darling wife, You and Mr. France were together for 2years after our marriage I knew that. I saw you guys many time on *THE DARK VALLEY RESORT, then choose not to react but see the side of my possibilities.

    *Elison what a blunder my life is. So many bitter
    surprises you guy's gave me that ....now I'm starving more and more..not for Love any more. But, now I really want to know the definition of-

    'GOOD AND BAD . '

    O, my lord please save me I want to know my purpose for life now , please bring me peace and help me ....Your child is on stake..O God.. someone please tell me

    please tell