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  • pallavi4 18h


    The thunder brings hope, joy and life
    Ending the gnawing from the burning heat
    Torrent rain floods the earth and sky
    Puddles invite frogs while slaking the thirst
    Of the arid, parched, dried land seeking
    A refuge, a revival and a renewal
    To rebirth lush greens, flora and fauna .


  • pallavi4 1d


    When I look in the mirror, I see myself -
    A strange being who I can’t
    Recognise staring
    Back at me.
    I try my best
    To peer into the soul
    Of the reflection just to gauge
    If the essence is still of the person I
    Once knew but now cannot hope to see.
    Sometimes the madness I see in the eyes
    Of my own reflection scares me as
    Though that person I see has
    Secrets I know nothing
    Of at all.
    Deep, dark
    Secrets which are like
    Mazes- labyrinths of clandestine
    Clues that are as decipherable as
    An almost invisible scrawl on the wall.


  • pallavi4 2d


    Plagued with questions one night while
    Reading, I fell asleep, spiralling quickly
    In the darkness of my own mind. In my
    Dream I saw I was at my grandmother’s
    Place, standing listening to someone
    Beating the door in the back of the house.
    Located on one end of the bungalow, this
    Door was situated right under a huge
    Banyan tree and had always seemed
    Very spooky to me.

    I moved towards the sound involuntarily
    And just as I was about to open the
    Locked door, I heard a low , strange growl
    “You, you’re what I want”. It was not a
    Human voice. It was something completely
    Different, I knew instinctively in my heart.
    The hair on my body stood up inspite of
    The weather being quite warm. I’d only
    Heard of demons and unearthly
    Paranormal beings until that day, but I
    Was sure that this was something evil.
    It had come in search of a soul, my soul.

    I froze and in my inability to move, kept
    Listening to the incessant pounding
    On the door in front of me. It apparently
    Couldn’t get in without me inviting it in.
    All that separated me and inevitability
    Was a wooden door. It was pulled and
    Kept rattling for a long time. Once out
    Of my daydream like state, I put both
    My hands on the door, refusing to relent.

    I could hear the growling from the
    Other side. A faceless, nameless danger
    Loomed large. Even in my dream I knew,
    Instinctively that whatever this was it
    Was potent enough to rid me of my
    Very soul. I will not give into you, I could
    Feel the voice from inside say.
    And so I didn’t.

    It was then that my eyes flew open.
    I was shivering with fright and covered
    In sweat. Unable to understand why I was
    So scared of losing myself to something
    Whose existence I could neither see
    Nor comprehend but knew was an
    In ignorable truth. A presence, a possible
    Demon had been at my door, for me.
    It was a strange dream and to date
    Scares me when I think about it.


    23rd of January, 2022

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner - “Moon Forest”

    Thank you so much for EC @miraquill !

    #wod #strange #horror #stories #scary #dream @writersnetwork #miraquill #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill #pallavi_editors_choice

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  • pallavi4 3d


    All of me is packed in cardboard boxes
    My universe, my existence, my entire being
    All of you lies empty and deserted now
    Only brick and mortar are left to be seen

    You are no longer a home, just a set of walls
    But then I’ve always been dismissive of you
    Ungrateful for the shelter you provided
    Ashamed of your inability to look shiny and new

    Your pale yellow plastered walls that needed
    Urgent repair to stop the peeling
    Your old construction and dampness
    Overgrown weeds in the garden that needed cleaning

    Unable to see past the physicality of things
    You’d forever been a source of embarrassment for me
    Your haggard appearance would bring me shame
    Around you I never wanted to be seen

    Today when I’m at the precipice of starting life again
    All I can recall is playing on your concrete floors
    Growing up inside you and running around -
    Using my mother’s makeup to paint the doors

    From pigtails to wearing flower wreaths
    Looking after the Alsatian who was so much than just a dog
    From dancing in the hailstorm during summer eves
    To getting lost in the hazy winter fog

    I will miss the trees I would climb on your campus
    And eat fresh and unwashed fruits
    You were a shelter from the elements yet
    In my shallow mind your presence was always moot

    Although my childhood revolved around you
    I feel I had the rougher end of the bargain
    I have mixed feeling today when I’m to leave you
    Happy I won’t have to see your ugly mug again

    Parts of growing up are soiled in my memories
    As they took place inside your sodden walls
    I hope you are less of an embarrassment for another
    I think while fighting this never ending internal war

    For all intents you will always be the house
    Where I lived and learnt to play childrens games
    And though it kills me to call you home
    I want bid you goodbye all the same


    22nd of January, 2022

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner

    #wod #nostalgia #mixed_feelings #home #house @writersnetwork #miraquill #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

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  • pallavi4 4d


    I was invited to be a part of a fair
    Which was held on a bright and sunny day
    A walk into this fair was a stroll
    Into my forgotten childhood days
    I carried with me no umbrella as the English do
    In order to be able to enjoy the afternoon rain
    And got lost in the happy and joyous revelries
    In the crowds found myself again

    I bought …..
    A little box for storing memories
    Reams of paper for thoughts to be inked
    A rug to make winters cosy
    A book of posies to make me think
    A coffee table book with glossy pages
    An album to store all my pictures
    Several pots to house my many plants
    Along with a book of bygone scriptures
    A piece of handwoven, embroidered cloth
    A bunch of chimes to sway in the wind
    An ancient looking ink pot
    A mug to down my tea with gold rimmed
    A handmade sun dried tomato pizza
    A risotto made with local rice and fish
    To drink - a nice cool lemonade
    An exotic looking apple pie dish

    Admiring the local artefacts I’d bought
    After punting in a boat in the nearby lake
    The day ended on a high as I came home
    And ate a slice of a very delicious cake
    Sometimes we lose a part of ourselves
    But in surprising places, it we regain
    Every little facet that makes us feel lost
    Can be eliminated by a walk down the memory lane


    21st of January, 2022

    Pic credit: picture clicked by me- Punting under the “Bridge of Sighs”, Cambridge (2019)

    #wod #joy #list #list_poetry #happiness @writersnetwork #miraquill #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

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  • pallavi4 5d

    Summer Vacation

    I still reminisce summer afternoons long past
    When petrichor drenched the sweet smelling grass
    The scent of hard bound old novels
    With merlot poured in a wine glass

    The squeaky colourful swing set
    And the rusty slides in the park
    The weed filled gardens that once were
    Painfully frightful in the dark

    The lanes where we would ride our bikes
    Under gulmohars with large orange flowers
    Us leisurely playing hopscotch
    Surrounded by scores of golden showers

    Feeling scared of ghosts on the roof
    Never ever following what was told
    That time where life was carefree
    When friendships mattered more than gold

    Those picnic spots around the fields
    Filled with daisies, jasmines and pear trees
    Chasing colourful butterflies all over
    Running after bugs and bees

    The stories of great wonder that contained
    Magical pixies, fairies and elves
    There is nothing more intoxicating than the
    Things that remind one of their youthful selves


    20th of January, 2022

    Thank you so much @writersnetwork !

    Pic credit: Picture credited to its rightful owner - Peter Hurd

    #wod #vacation #childhood #holidays @writersnetwork #miraquill #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity
    @miraquill #pallavi_wnreposts

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  • pallavi4 1w


    What makes a painting beautiful ?
    I’ve often wondered to myself
    Is it the shape, the form or the use of colour?
    Or simply being displayed on a famed shelf?

    Is it the way the artist moves his brush?
    From bold to a feathered embrace
    Or the exhibition of a clarity of thought ?
    Hoping among great painters to find his place

    One brush stroke changes the emotion
    Emoted by the artwork in hand
    From something considered ordinary
    To being deemed mighty and grand

    What is art for me could be trash for another
    Such variation in sentiment paintings provoke
    Playing with intellect like piano keys
    Feelings of love, hatred, indifference invoke

    But what makes art worthy of greatness?
    For that is the looming question in my mind
    In the multiple layers of paint, I hope to
    A fascinating, captivating cognition find

    Wading my way through sheaves of brush strokes
    I hope to unearth art that is truly unique
    I am a poet traversing through hordes of rhymes
    Some look familiar and some seem offbeat

    I’m left befuddled thinking what if something is
    Considered significant simply because it will likely sell well
    Dripping paint on a canvas doesn’t make art
    If a story the finished piece fails to tell


    19th of January, 2022

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner - Impressionist painter HuJunDi

    #wod #painter #art @writersnetwork #miraquill #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

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  • pallavi4 1w

    Broken Heart

    My broken yet mended compatriot who
    I’ve been staring at for a while now
    We were made from the same mould but
    He seems very different from me somehow

    When I question him he says nothing
    Just smiles a fleeting smile
    His lacquered surfaces bears cracks
    That have been repaired over time

    I often wonder if I’d have been able to endure
    What he must’ve been through
    Is he still laden with contrition
    Of never again being shiny and new ?

    Do breaks quantify the love he once felt ?
    Splintered and vanquished he’s survived
    Do the crevices resound of unspeakable pain
    That the joint fragments now hide ?

    Did he love more deeply, only to lie in shambles ?
    Was his love truer than mine ?
    With gold his damaged person has been put together
    Maybe of more affection that is a sign

    He says he is the heart that broke
    And has chosen to fix the broken lines with gold
    Folklore says breaks history with them bring
    For me once broken is never again whole


    18th of January, 2022

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner

    #wod #heart @writersnetwork #miraquill #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

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  • pallavi4 1w


    Some hurricanes were never meant to be borne
    For some come out brave, some come out torn
    Try braving a wave, a gale so prolonged
    Enough to make grown men forlorn

    When words fail comfort and the heart feels shorn
    And grief and pain feel like prickly thorns
    A broken spirit hurts more than broken bones
    Never to be whole again but forever remain torn

    Those who shatter, a soul’s death mourn
    The eyes of the brave shine with the strength of many a storm
    Never a victim , always a fighter , silent but strong
    Courage is a badge that is quietly but very proudly worn


    17th of January, 2022

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner

    #wod #brave #valour #unirhyme @writersnetwork #miraquill #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

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  • pallavi4 1w


    My parents are like chalk and cheese
    As different as two people can possibly be
    I keep wondering since I am like neither
    How they managed to sire me

    My dad is chilled out and relaxed
    Unfussy and jovial all the time
    Even in the face of things going wrong
    He pretends that everything is just fine

    My mom is more tightly wound
    A stickler for time and work
    Accounting for every minute of the day
    She doesn’t let anyone haphazardly lurk

    He is short and a bit of a bully
    With big dreams and a wild imagination
    An optimist at heart, he is never found low
    Or down due to mournful resignation

    She is tall and determined
    Hardworking and intense
    Once she starts something she continues
    Doing it for weeks without an end

    He still dresses like he is in the 70s
    Unwilling to change into current styles
    But adapts very quickly to new technology
    He is unstoppable and goes on for miles

    She’s modern and dressed to the nines
    Uniquely different and mighty fine
    But bad at changing according to changing times
    Unwilling to put even a foot out of line

    A sharp contrast of two separate worlds
    To me they represent the two poles
    They maybe apart in mannerisms and behaviour
    Yet they are what makes my home


    16th of January, 2022

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner- Ethereal Acrylic Paintings
    by Duy Huynh

    #wod #portrait #family #parents @writersnetwork #miraquill #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

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