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  • meghaa_ 2w

    This is poem,
    Of a mourning sky,
    That sheds away stars
    Ripping off one entire city
    My hometown,
    To be precise,
    Is where my mother grows sunflowers
    Under cloudy smiles,
    Of a foggy rainbow
    And I wait in this poem,
    Untill the sky's demise
    I see birds crossing territories
    And broken shores
    Just to build a home
    Out of wreckages
    Woven with love
    My words change shades
    Like weather forecasts
    Is it too long?
    Have I been tripping,
    On fault lines?
    Or am I the poem
    Smiling between a storm?

    Sunsets time travel,
    To their native place
    Here we learn,
    To embrace summers
    While the winter soldier
    Is still not dead
    I'm scared for this poem
    To dissolve in a void
    Into nothingness,
    It's morning already,
    Nothing breaks like a heart
    Not even the skies
    I open my eyes
    Someone stole my reverie
    And I lost my quill


    ~M e g h a//emptiness

    #weather


    Edit:

    9:22 p.m

    2/05/22

    It was a pleasure to be read by you all, and a greater pleasure to read you all. I had the loveliest time here, but I believe it's time I indefinitely postpone visiting here. Take care and never stop writing.

    Love,
    S

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  • meghaa_ 3w

    The other side of an apocalypse
    Starts to seem
    Like Hitler's love story
    Almost unscripted
    While mortals brooded
    Upon war zones
    The rain-Gods you see,
    Flood your territories
    While an old lady
    Who plants sunflowers
    On the remnants of,
    The broken state lines
    By the same storm,
    Who took her child away

    There will be books written
    And banners raised
    Yet the Gods will fire a treatise
    To immortalise the storm
    You will hear sobs
    You will hear screams
    But if you make it,
    To the cyclone's eye
    You'll hear your name
    From the other side
    Of the apocalypse
    And I swear,
    That's what
    True poetry sounds like.

    ~M e g h a//Retreat to roots

    #broken #wod

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  • meghaa_ 12w

    Gen-z teens these days
    Are high on keto diet
    Strictly vegan meals
    And insta stories
    Of post break up haircuts
    The real deal,
    Is between Gods and humanity
    The latter racing towards resignation
    This is the night,
    I drunk mail Russia
    While I over-drug myself
    Scheming a post-death masterplan
    Where I knock on humanity's gate
    With a rejoining letter,
    In my hand.

    ~M e g h a //humanity?

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  • meghaa_ 15w

    I've cried a sea
    For someone
    Who put down his mast
    Way before,
    I learnt to sail
    But here I'm,
    One voyage later
    Spelling your name
    Like a prayer,
    A homecoming

    You see,
    I don't care about
    Your rocky edges,
    Broken shards,
    I'll keep falling
    Into you
    Against you,
    For you
    Because you,
    You're my only shore.

    ~M e g h a// foreign shorelines

    Old stuff

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  • meghaa_ 17w

    January is a painting,
    Made from the leftovers
    Of Picasso's pallete
    To put our lives into a metaphor:
    The blue skies there,
    Await for a kite
    That's anchored too tight
    But you see some kites
    Take the best of flights
    When let go of their strings.

    ~M e g h a//soaring

    #painter #wod


    @_firefly also, a very happy birthday to you . I've had a very brief interaction with you but a memorable one. Best wishes �� stay blessed

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  • meghaa_ 18w

    I've built a paper town,
    Where gypsies halt
    At lighthouses
    And pigeons deliver,
    Their mothers' touch
    The peddlers sell orphan smiles
    To barefoot cuckoo's on snowy roofs
    Houses here,
    Are mixtapes
    Of every word you ever wrote
    And every tune the gypsies sung
    The maple leaves harvest acid rain,
    For every autumn that ever passed.
    The fast cars in your neon-lit city
    Often lose track to end up here
    I'm the calm of a warm blue sky
    You're the call of the electric blues
    This is the milkyway of transition
    Where stars align with dreamy hopes
    You're the nomad to cityscapes
    I'm the road to autumn town

    You're the atlas to foreign world
    I'm the map you never touched.

    ~M e g h a// Apocalypse


    The song that inspired me: Autumn town leaves by iron & wine


    #song #meg_wn

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  • meghaa_ 19w

    My father's household,
    Speaks a different vocabulary
    To mother's
    Who crossed a sea
    And a storm,
    For the sake of her vermilion
    So when the world tries to drown me,
    I warn them a poem
    This is the daughter of the same,
    You tried to tame,
    Years back.

    ~M e g h a// inheritance

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  • meghaa_ 20w

    #skinny #wod #meg_wn


    This is my 100th post yay

    And I want to take a moment to say, I find different types of writers here, extremely brilliant and versatile. But there are a lot of people who write here , not to enhance there writing skills but to dump their hearts. I myself am a person who literally writes upon this one topic, which is obviously monotonous which is the skies. And honestly I don't care if my readers get bored of if I'm growing as a better writer or not, but as long as my heart feels good I shall write about the same thing over and over. If you've been reading, then I ask all of you to write whatever the heck your hearts want to and absolutely not give a damn. The prompts can wait, your heart can't. Thank you <3

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    I'm the sunset
    Stained
    Poetry
    Written
    On
    Stained
    Yesterday
    Yet,
    Tomorrow's
    Stained.
    I'm the s u n s e t.

    I'm the blue skies,
    Etched
    Canvass
    Van-Gogh
    Painted
    Etched
    In
    Stars,
    Hope's
    Etched.
    I'm the b l u e s k i e s.

    I'm the rains
    Drenched
    In
    Motherly
    Tears,
    Drenched
    In
    Memoirs.
    Muse
    Drenched,
    I'm the r a i n s.

    I'm the clouds
    Sewed
    In
    Welkins.
    Cosmos
    Sewed
    My
    Name.
    Revolutions
    Sewed,
    I'm the c l o u d s.


    ~M e g h a// of me

  • meghaa_ 20w

    The skies have mastered,
    The palmistry
    To read through the storm lines
    This is what the fishermen told me
    When their net caught a poem
    A discarded one,
    That had my name
    All over it.
    The skies are an atheist's temple,
    Where I go to pray
    Spreading my arms
    At the sun's interlude
    And ask,
    "What do you see,
    Is it a catastrophe?
    Is it me?
    Or is it him,
    All over, again?"
    A lady from the woods,
    Stops by the sand
    :It's always the waves
    That drowns the ship
    You're a poem,
    That made it out,
    Of the shipwrecks,
    And storms,
    And someone out there,
    Is dowsing the sea
    For the muse,
    Behind the lost poem"


    ~M e g h a//letting go

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  • meghaa_ 20w

    My city is devoid,
    Of sparrows and mailboxes
    But separatists brick walls,
    In burnt neighborhoods
    There're girls whose A grades;
    Do not make up
    For their ripped jeans
    And denim skirts,
    And fire red hair dyes
    But you are the one,
    To deform a Ed-sheeran song
    So that miss out on the neighbours
    Bitching behind my back
    You now nothing,
    Of insta reels or pop culture
    But you know what,
    We'll be fine
    As long as we get kishore kumar right
    And Dad,
    This poem is not for the other day,
    When I left home in a guy's car
    But for all the times
    You took Pride
    And for my hair
    I'm going to dye
    For all the times,
    You've spinned a happy end
    To my crappy stories,
    Of boy-trouble
    Here's me saying thank you
    I love you,
    To the moon and back

    ~M e g h a//To a king from his princess

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