Judge your opinions by how it was made, not only how it turned out to be!
Between the skyscrapers,I find you counting birds,killing them,and grinning even wider.You look at your handsand keratin on top of it.Then I saw you running,to grab the notebookwhich has a feathertucked in it's lines.I would have suggested youto look at the saplings,nurture them,watch them grow, just grow,and not fly,even with the hues they carry.They are meant to.But my pace got quite slowand you were over it.Injured, bleeding,all over your body.You've cut your own hands.You've put feathers in their place. But it won't work.©prachi
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.~Edgar Allen Poe
On the edge I stand,counting my sins and sorrowsthat choke my dreamsand curse my screams.I opened my granny's case,found some Polaroid shots,howling like a kid so thrilled,with free shoulders and no sand to slip,but to make castles outta it.I wear my stilettos in pride,to flaunt and flaunt and flaunt,and the blister awaits,to taunt and taunt and taunt,teaching me the ways,to carry heels in publicand then in hands.Fears made me strongbut not anymore,when dolphins wander,all I see is sharks flounder.What appeared goodis no more the best.What appeared bad,is now the worst.Is now the worst.is now the worst.©prachii_
Jesus, save me from perfection!
Go, take the elixir.
Which one would you take? A Virgin Mojito or a plain coke? Mojito sounds cool, isn't it? Atleast for me then. I remember the very first time when I pronounced mojito as mo-ji-to and not mo-hee-toh. Big deal. English is complicated. So is our perceptions about perfections. I remember that fucking moment which made me feel eggs on my face. Eggs, tomatoes and what not! The reason stands obdurate. Someone out there gave me a judgemental look.A simple thought of looks or body sends shivers down my spine. It's a disease which cannot be cured by any medicine, but a person's approval, who you see as a perfect figure. I have seen many girls in my school who used to die to be friends with a girl who had boys drooling over her. Girls got bullied. Cried a little. repeated the same thing. And the cycle continues. Get yourself a pair of fishy eyes with no vision, smooth lips with no smiles and ears of symmetry with zero sound entering for help. Sit like an idle and think about your appearance. Perfect. Then judge others and make them the way you are, the way you define perfection and make this world look flawless, with full of flaws.Why do we need the faux endorsement of a faux person? Just because we are not full on our own? We go through many plastic surgeries just to receive a plastic sexual gratification. Stitches on stitches to make our nose stand up in pride and yet, it refuses. Your whimsical desire is a slain. Accept yourself that you have a body with stages and a face that ages. I know, that you become sad, go wild and feel like killing the person who did not stamp the approval of your beauty. You work. You leave your supper on the dining tables. And voila! You're done! You're up to their mark and you'll be the idol who judges someone on the basis of their colours, curves and what not. Crap!Why can't you be a person with zero objections and a platter full of defiance?©prachii_
A lovely throne of diamonds,with sable spread on it,made to look graphite by choiceof people who contribute in the ballots of desire,just based onsome glitter of liesand drink of truths!©prachi
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,and I want to take none if I could,coz both take me to the world so blind,where life is a myth made by mankindand I finally take the one in normalityapart from the faux obsessed society.All the fame and limelight,and a junk-filled beautiful kyte,with a starter of fancy lies,that people today proudly disguiseand I finally took the road aflamewhich is left by people acclaimed.The television so wide,where lies and truths equally confideWho's left without playing victim card,and a mere attempt to make fellows retard so I finally move to a place aloof,where no more dogs are left to woof.But the world moves on,differentiating white and bronn,where jealousy is a wordthat's all over heard.So this time, I walk on roads so smooth,where hate is no more sprinkled on vermouth.~Prachi
Botticelli's Venus- There's a painter named "Sandro Botticelli" who painted "Birth of Venus", where the Goddess is standing on a scallop shell and depicts beauty arriving on land.
Fair, dusky, dark!Layers of filters,wares of knots.The lighter the tone,the bosting I am.Loads of turmeric forthe D-day coming soon,like a cake is festooned,with fondants and berries,to get slayed with hands so pure.Pear, hourglass, round!Types of shape,hypes of bootleg.The smoother the curve,the pleasing I am.When corset hugs me tightly,vultures make a brake, and set me higher on pedestalwhere I am measuredby an ugly scale for beautyI am drenched in rage,with insecurities dancing around,this society advised meto not look prettyand also look prettyat the very same second.How am I supposed to do that?I may attract peeps. Oops!My mails filled with tips,on how to rock summersand make the people drool,with white face, pink lips.But wait!My mirror is screaming something else.It shows me blood too,instead of my mere collarbones.And today, when there's Botticelli's Venus in me,why am I standing beside the fake moonlight,when I can collapse everything like a 'black' hole?~prachi
Forget being a brawnyhere, let's arrange a victory cupfor who got more ofa pleasant buffalo breathin the corridors of shackles,shackles that make me better.The gun point is still here,just above me, above my head,as a repercussion to my desireof being a wantonand I played a money heist for it.The altercations haunt mefor being a coward everydayfrom the literal worldthat lies below my feetand I still think it pricks like thorns.The red marker is fed up of dancing,on the same steps of gyration,on the same dance floor of calendarwhere I mark my departure datesfrom a house with no exit gatesbut only a crowded entry gatefor people like me, who slay themselves,between the process of changing skin color.These four walls I live into reincarnate myself,possesses a different worldwhere bizarre is a new normaland bloodshot eyes are a habit,still, we are called misanthropes,when we ourselves are waif.I stumble upon half pacerecollecting myself again,in a rush to meet the one of my typewho is caged in a chair with cuffsstruggling, yet smiling,because he got the glimpse of someoneafter the visiting hours got over.What doesn't kill you, makes you s̶t̶r̶o̶n̶g̶e̶r̶ weaker.©Prachi
There, a car without wheels, threads tied, eyes wide, daughter learns to drive the car, scuffed streets, gloomy brakes, the mechanic now owns the motoras ad hoc wife pays himand holds her nose high in pridefor being his trophy wifethe last night. The Monalisa hangs, family photographs fall, doorbell rings *don't open*waits the stack of coins in blues, grabbing them allhe invites them again, throwing memento notes away. I see the lavishness againstepping out of the kitchen, a salver decorated with almonds, lemons and lemonades, but ouch! the chilled glass hurts meand I spy at her husbandcollecting shattered pieces of the glassand keeping them up on the pedestal. A chest irrigating hateis found in diamond mines, where he is busy amassingglitters out of the mud, while his 'once a friend' smilesand continues picking upeach bread, carefully, while the rich man's son slurps ramen. Children playing peek-a-boowith skyscrapers, closing eyes, for a real world that existsunder those golden lashesand the silver bracelet, that keeps the couple corralledfor the Bachata with ceased moves. ©Prachi
Studio shelves and piles of files, caged opinions by vague panels, snatching pink skirts from ballerina, owning razors for sissonne cuts, never so redundant for quixotic jobs. Button eyes with black visionmaking conspiracies of smooth edges, under the paper no one sees, of course there lies a jagged turnbut always in the dimension four. On the verge of placid time,antique eagles sitting aside, some rawhides as wedding dressand no more revealing attire of liberty, with withering freedom toppingserving cherry on the cake. ©Prachi
It's long, but I couldn't stop myself! I hope it makes sense :)
Will you adore me?
Between the ice cubes of liquorAnd the words of curseThere exists some loud silenceWhich no one dares to wither. Oh girl! An early made lady! What brought you here? An idol with promises, Or a father with greed? Your flirting body, and empty soulLips that caress a man's eager lustAll speaks of your beauty, brazen girl! And still you bloom, shattered. You feel no voids, yet you haveYou feel no grief, yet you carryA sweet guilt, a bitter pleasureAll makes you a woman of dreams. Leaving your heart aside, Where do you belong? In a man's bedroomOr some daily changing arms. Some glittery small moneyIs what it takes to dieAnd not people know you by your identityBut a street girl for ever! A victory of survivalFor one more day of agonyWhile you fight the nightFor one more day of supper. Will you adore meFor the memories I made? Until I reach the graveAnd then mourn for life! Does life holds nothingFor the art you have? Or will you remain a whore of moralsWith no smiles to take? I will meet you once, on that same streetAnd won't exchange wordsBut just murmur some silent prayersTo let flourish this sunflower again! ~prachi
The bygone Era ofOnce upon a time Is my favorite time to beIt had kings and queensAnd witches and wizardsAnd there was so much to see!The giants on bean stalksClimbed high thenAnd brave little boys followedAnd flying carpets were The norm of the dayOn which genies galloped!Sleeping was a curseAnd needed a kissOf one true love to work Slippers of glass Were worn and lostIn the right foot, they stuck!Princesses were manyBut held in castlesEvil stepmoms were rampantTo look for the fairest Magic mirrors were madeThe world was ruled by tyrants!Brave princes rode On horses high Coming to the rescue of maidensThe devil was devilishLiving in burning hellGod and Angels in lofty heavens!Eating a cake Made you smallTo fit in a rabit hole Drinking from a bottleMade you tallBeware, if you drank it whole!Fairies with wandsFlittered aboutIn gardens enchanted since timeGnomes and trolls And elves and dwarvesWere roped in to solve crimes!Those were the timesI really lovedBecause I believed in magicBut then i grew upAnd fairy tales endedMaking life so tragic! ©gg#bygone #wod #miraquill #writersnetworkOh!! So so happy Thank you so much @miraquill and @writersnetworkMy second POD!!
06.01.22#alliteration #miraquill @miraquill
Dithered dreams of deleterious days dynamizedthe dead and debilitated doting.©thread_broken_kite
#lanturneThank you @writersnetwork for the repost. Truly delighted #wnluv(From the archives)
Love, brightensup the darkcorners of theHeart. Care, lightensthe burdenof the lonelysoul. Let'sshare loveand care, raiseheaven on thisEarth. ©trebleclef
White is the colour of new,of sunshine on morning dew,of the wedding dress she never threw,of butterflies that never flew.And now the white clouds slow dance,as the romance of white roses begins,white a colour so sacred,the hue of birth and death.White winter days look like happiness,like vanilla ice cream for children in summer,white is the shield of a fragile widow,white, the beginning of everything.And white is this day,that ends another chapter,with white carnations and water lilies.What lies ahead? Is it white or black?Maybe, today is all we can see,like the white string that ties you and me.©sayuriii#colorIs white a colour? Maybe not. It's just the start and end of everything. Like this year that is ending, on a white (good) note! :)Happy New Years,with an optimistic outlook
I wonder what I'd write more.#poems
The child in bed no. 2 was crying,On its mother's lap it was rolling out and away from comfort,It cried and criedtill it bled its toes.There was a women nearby,his aunt, she claimedand cursed his mothercalling her worthless;The child cried more.His mother pressed hardon her stitched lips,in silent revolt she sighed.The namesake aunt stopped,after spending all her words.There's silence in the room now,the child cries no more.©reflections__
On a lakeof cetrifuged timeOur brief explosionsof dopamine are mouldedinto Polaroid pebblesI immortalised youWe immortalised timeThrough an expired DSLRPebbles from it, decorated the banksEach pebble had filtersMy thumb ate themlike a cannibalstic carnivoreCataracts of pastBecome clear as we ageSkipping pebbles on rushing ripples I felt adreanlines aftertaste inthis nostalgic nosediveThe pebbles sank after few leapsAnchored heavily to eyelidsObituaries are manyfor these stones as bagpipes blared brieflyOne by oneThey skippedSkirmishedand drownedDusk to dawnMy hippocampus and this lakeburied polaroid pebblesWithout any tombstonesBut under a single epitaph"Life's an elastic enigma of ephemeral eulogiesSprinkled with some polaroids Stretched between pebbles calledLife and deathMake your pebbles count"©clichepenname#photograph
"Life's an elastic enigma of ephemeral eulogiesSprinkled with some polaroids Stretched between pebbles calledLife and deathMake your pebbles count"©clichepenname
I'm a dumb headed poet Who frequently scatters his words Of remorse and indignation Sometimes of joy and philosophy Meaningless to the world I know the metaphors, oxymoron, antithesis, onomatopoeia, similie etcThe style and devices thatMight not reach you in a sound way My lovely audience But I leave the riddle for you With a dream that I have Like you may have yours To shine among the stars A hope covered in a shroud of fearAge that is meagre in hands But miles a distance to cover In the crowd of mocking lyre birds Yet your dreams are yours And nobody cares Just wake up every morning To walk the path to your destination.©prem
#annawrites #poetry #bodypositivity #mirakee #miraquill #selflove
Your words tookA while to sink inBecause they came dressedIn bundles of joy and laughter Your sly comments Of how I should eatMore to gain a little Never went unnoticed And when I satQuietly, drifting offTo a place of consoleYour words tore me moreYour words tookSeconds to destroyConfidence that tookMe years to buildAnd as I lookIn the mirrorIn an effort to lookPretty, I'm reminded ofYour wordsAnd how they Can NEVER be unsaid©ndeenda_elao
Death is my lover.
Toxic, Reckless, People say. But I cannot help butLet Death lure me away. Moonlight twinkles, Silence sings. Me and my loverAre all that I bring. I've no longer a face, No longer a name. There's nobody elseMaking me feel this way. Delicate rose, With petals of gold. Death is a monster, Or so I've been told. But I can seeOnly kindness in his eyes. I can feelOnly sincerity, no disguise. His tender touchIs all too much. His heart may be cold, But I hold a match.©judas_
#writersnetwork #mirakee #miraquill
There's an ocean, and there's a teaspoon, for an oar with me wandering still wasting by it's shoreThere's a cute boywith a surfboard by the bay, who left a smile, coy and went smashing down the wave.There's an old friendin a French ship by the ken,drifts abandoned,and keeps up bobbing, now and then. There's a great thirst,and sheets of water, but can't be quenched,I built a fortress, with the teaspoon, and now I'm trenched.-faha