ishikaaggarwal

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Too busy working on my own grass to notice if yours is greener��ѕαяαηցнαє

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  • ishikaaggarwal 25w

    Aurora Borealis

    Green hues envelope the dark emotions,
    Scatter and dance into our upending motions,
    Dissipate into an eternal ocean,
    Our heart's abode,
    Anxiously praying for endeavours to well bode,
    Penetrate as a mere zephyr, inking a smiling ode.

    ©ishikaaggarwal

  • ishikaaggarwal 25w

    #miraquill #writersnetwork
    An old composition 😅 Not one of my best (I honestly like my recent ones more) but I like the message here, so I’m sharing it 💜♥️

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    A Speck of Dust

    You may wonder what a speck of dust can do,
    Or the annoyance because of one in times of loo,
    But when it flies into your eye, then you struggle to get rid of it,
    Oh, the tons of attempts to win over it!

    I’ll tell you about such a coincidence,
    When I was full of pride,
    Boasting in the patio side,
    All of a sudden, a speck flew into my eye, making me need assistance.

    The neighbour I was boasting to, got surprised,
    How sudden of a reaction I had applied.
    She got confused, what to do,
    After a while into my eye she blew.

    My poor eye was oh so red,
    It was really delicate, and so it said,
    ‘Please be careful and really very gentle,
    And be ready for incidents so accidental.’

    It was then I realised the speck’s capability,
    I don’t have the right to suspect on anything’s ability,
    I have nothing to boast about,
    On the potential I can’t doubt.

    One speck of dust can make such of an issue,
    About such insignificant, tiny things we only think about a few,
    But we must respect even a miniscule being,
    As we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover or just by seeing.

    That day my mentality understood,
    We shall value one and all irrespective of how they look,
    ‘Cause even a tiny speck can be really annoying,
    Like when an invisible speck can be such a sting.

    From that day onwards, I never insulted another being,
    And soon changed my ways to never boast,
    Instead to always appreciate every other thing,
    And not to think of oneself on the highest post!

    ©ishikaaggarwal

  • ishikaaggarwal 25w

    Friend

    When a star twinkles brighter than any other, when it's radiant enough to blind you with faith and obscures the fakely-twinkling ones, cling onto it forever and squeeze it with your affection.

    ©ishikaaggarwal

  • ishikaaggarwal 25w

    To rout, ruin and rise above stereotypes, dissuades, impediments and lies is truly a victory.

    ©ishikaaggarwal

  • ishikaaggarwal 25w

    Best definition of rising - Bangtan Sonyeondan

    ©ishikaaggarwal

  • ishikaaggarwal 25w

    The Rainbow tantalized the dissipating Raindrops with what they'll never symbolize: joy. While the Sun tantalized the arrogant rainbow that it'll never exist without his angry rays nor the gloomy rain.
    ©ishikaaggarwal

  • ishikaaggarwal 25w

    Laughter is the Komorebi of the dark, lonely forest of gloom.

    ©ishikaaggarwal

  • ishikaaggarwal 25w

    #decay #wod #miraquill #writersnetwork @peachytae_
    Hope it makes sense ����

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    Her decaying poems were fertilizers of her tremulous quill, sobbing the black truth trembling with deep dimples of death.

    ©ishikaaggarwal

  • ishikaaggarwal 26w

    #oldenglish #wod #pod #miraquill #writersnetwork #friendship #sad @miraquill
    ~~~
    I know it's long but do give it a read.
    So, I usually write about life lessons and optimism so I tried writing something sad this time.
    ~~~
    ‘A Lie to Die’ narrates the life story of a 15 year old girl willing to suicide due to her best friend’s death to the Corona Virus.

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    A Lie to Die?

    My feet dangling in the gloomy yet lively
    Perpetual darkish waters,
    I was on the edge, scribbling away
    The odyssey of my decade and a half old life.

    I'd unwavered from my firm decision
    To jump off unaided and fling my emotions
    As a suicide note,
    Perhaps, a memory for those chanting dirges to me.

    The melancholia of my recollecting memoirs
    In blue and grey elflocks,
    Teared up a deeper abyss than that of
    The haven of my afterlife.

    The first triplet would bring a smile
    To even a stone hearted devil,
    After all, it encased my first wailings and wins,
    Not to mention my mom's daily heartfelt caressing.

    The succeeding cinquain was giggling with glee
    Dearth of depression, decisiveness and dents in the heart,
    Felt so ethereal to the knackered and fractured me while
    The quill I once wrote the ABC's with was now my death-quill, piercing me further.

    The following limerick was wet by tears too ambivalent,
    Acquaintances and comrades so amusing, accompanying
    My first farewell so lachrymose,
    Had I known an eternity would follow.

    The last couplet of my fifteen-lined autobiography,
    Was the genesis of the once tranquil waters
    Metamorphosing into my deathbed
    Soon to be salty with laments and laughter.

    I'd lost my soulmate, my sister,
    My punching bag, my pillow I dreamt on
    The shoulder I wet weeping,
    The optimistic half of my soul.

    Yeah we were mere friends,
    Daydreaming of decades of delightful yet delicate
    Years together, maybe till we were grandmas,
    Penning our daydreams into poems of verve.

    We aspired to be each other's twinkling lights,
    Twinkling in the darkest wells of melancholy,
    Yet we gave innumerable lectures to each other,
    To be our own lights for those minutes of isolation.

    Then came months of what seemed an eternity of isolation,
    We spent unremitting uhtceare,
    Pondering whether we could ever
    Pat each other's shoulders again.

    To the world we personified friendship,
    But to each other we were the only
    Dandelions in the desert,
    Forever swaying benevolently.

    Like a blooming rose
    Like scattering cherry blossoms in tranquil pink hues,
    Like the waning cockcrow blush,
    Like that winsome moment.

    But even roses have thorns,
    Hers plucked my heart,
    Ripping it apart it into two,
    One dead and one about to be dead.

    My dandelion was taken away by the sandstorm.
    It came for me too,
    But her firm command to be my own light hooked me deeper,
    And as always it was me who obliged and she being scatterbrained.

    ©ishikaaggarwal

  • ishikaaggarwal 26w

    #wod #jingle #miraquill #writersnetwork
    I don't know if it's a jingle, but my heartfelt gratitude to miraquill for giving us such a wonderful platform to express our thoughts to the people and gain heart fluttering compliments ������
    Thnx @writersnetwork for the like! ❤️

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    Miraquill

    Abode of poets and poetesses,
    Dipping their quills into the abyss of the dark ink,
    Scripting their endeavours and passions sinking,
    Onto their vintage typewriter.

    It's the North Star for us,
    Always there in the shivering winters, or the melting summer,
    Reposts, heart-warming compliments overflowing, never a bummer,
    Guiding our pitch dark metaphors and the drowning anaphoras.

    That dark abyss fostered the Meraki
    To be the fathomless, mighty sea
    Of mere words
    Letting out a faint smile or pouring through gloomy eyes.

    ©ishikaaggarwal