santor_674

WOW - WONDER OUT OF WRITING!��❤️ Sanchitha Shankar

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  • santor_674 47w

    Jamie you know , people leave but places don't. They exist holding back all the memories; fragrances and echoes of empathy. People stay in for a while , but a place - it's scenic beauty ; the aroma of its sod ; the richness of it's geographical strands ; the freshness of it's blowing and whistling breeze lasts until everything is destructed in this world. Places are perpetually remembered by one. Not only its beauty is remembered by one , but also an exceptional and unforgettable experience over that place is cherished until the man's last breath. The place he was born, the place he first learnt to walk, the place he lived up in his entire life remain the same and lovable to him irrespective of where he is living currently. Whatever happens , however busy a man is, he never tends to be oblivious to visit his hometown , atleast once a year. His hometown preaches him about the state of living and how certain obscure things found in his hometown lends him the greatest happiness of life. A place remains as a memoir too . People who leave us never incline to come back in our life , but the place we shared with them when they were together with us is always visited and they oblige to give us the satisfaction and the complete sense of life. I may be sound ridiculous for valuing a lifeless place rather than a living human - because each of the juncture experienced with a place is more remarkable than putting back a fake smile in front a venomous person. A place make us realise profoundly about ourselves rather than people who influence us to change with respect to their convenience. And yet a place beholds truth but never uncertainty unlike people.

    #monologue
    @santor_674

    Thank you so much @writersnetwork for the kind repost ��❤️

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    Unforgettable Abode

  • santor_674 47w

    Primrose often symbolises for new birth or new beginning. It also symbolises female beauty.

    //The remnants of her failures weaved a pair of feathers to fly high in the spring eve//
    #wov5

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    MUSINGS

    Florets of the crimson primrose blooms out in her herbage.
    Sunbeams of the radiant azure ; drives Eventide to set down.
    And she twirls in her gown ; fabricating new treads for her rebirth.
    ©santor_674

  • santor_674 48w

    Here , "Her" refers to Sylvia Plath.
    Tulips is a poem written by Slyvia Plath.
    #wov4

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    Poetries And Rain

    It was a nightfall,
    When the sky seemed somber ,I
    settled on my desk.

    Clouds veiled remnants of,
    The riven lantern for me
    To procure solace.

    Caressing my ears,
    Swishes away the wind with pace.
    The earth scents finer.

    A piece of paper
    In hand, I lie on and grin
    On reading - "Tulips".

    //The rain drenched over my curls,
    And her words etched in as pearls//
    ©santor_674

  • santor_674 48w

    #wov3
    The line used is : The marks human leave are too often scars.

    //Naive was the sky to conceal the scars blooming out in the tender garden of heart//

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    The Naive Azure

    Misty dusk,
    Camouflaged her orbs
    To conceal
    The marks.
    Naive was it's act of not
    Grasping verity.
    ©santor_674

  • santor_674 48w

    #wov2

    //Let it be a withered rose or a dead poet both of them are cherished with their gorgeousness somewhere in this abode//

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    Withered rose and a Dead Poet

    TANKA
    Fragrance of her curls,
    Scented of a withered rose.
    She rests on the Garth,
    Unfurling the ambrosial
    Of florals with chime of bells.

    QUINZAIN
    A dead poet scribes better.
    Is he dead? Or just
    Lost somewhere?
    ©santor_674

  • santor_674 48w

    I don't know whether it's relevant to the prompt. But just gave it a try.
    #wov1

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    A Summer Day

    Walking down ,
    The pasture , I
    perch beneath the Hackberry
    With reed to scribe the affability
    Of town.

    Evenings ,
    blaze in salmon
    Ushering it's allure.
    I see them embracing their hands
    with warmth.

    Moonlit ,
    Nights of Summer
    Under the cranky dome,
    Swishes back his memories in
    Dim sky.
    ©santor_674

  • santor_674 48w

    Lockdown Diary!

    13th June 2021,
    It was another usual day , and I snoozed the alarms and finally stepped out of the bed at 10 am. The bed cover was in a haphazard manner , taking a long yawn I arranged it properly as I do diurnally. I walked up to the the same blurry mirror , splashed a few drops of water and I smiled seeing my reflection much clearly. I then straight away headed to the kitchen , to gulp the chocolate milk . Everytime I see that cup, I smile as it reminds me of the friend who gifted me it on my 13th birthday. I quickly take a refreshing shower , which is exceptional for most of the people around me who stay cool even after not taking a bath for several weeks. After some random household chores , I lifted up the most precious thing of my life (not my smart phone ) - "Sheero" - my 40 days old puppy! It ran around me and licked my whole face and my legs - which kind of tickled me and I laughed hysterically. After pretending of studying my school subjects in front of my dad , I started scrolling the screen of my smart phone which had nothing useful though. With no exception , I enjoyed having my brunch for I woke up too late to have breakfast and my stomach was starving. And again , I started scrolling down the phone and I was admiring all those alluring poetries and quotes of various writers in "Mirakee" - making myself feel useless of being hesitant to post any piece of writing. Then I cuddled with Sheero , gave its usual meal - a bowl full of cerelac mixed with diluted curd. Then I suddenly had something in my mind that I started to complete my leftover assignments. The noon went by . Then in the evening , mom made up the sizzling - "Chai" - and taking a sip I lay over the cushion relaxed by the gentle zephyr brushing up my curls. And to make the day a bit productive , I did a set of exercises , boosting up my stamina . Also I read a few pages of the extremely stunning book named - "Forge your future " written by Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam. It is incredibly beautiful. Every common man 's difficulties is stated for which Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam himself delivers the solutions ; accumulating quotes of great writers . This is when I felt how this lockdown had given us a great occasion to lend our mind into obscure things we had been avoiding for years. Though each day passes with the same routine, it leaves back a moral value unknowingly. And then, I sat before the television along with my dad at 7:30. And this is where my listening skills are tested by my dad who interrogate about each and every thing I understand from the news. And this part of the day is the most useful for me! And then mom calls us for dinner and after finishing the delicious meal , I head to my bedroom. Before I squeezed into the pillow , I completed few of my assignments, played with Sheero, and then played cards with mom and then at last I squeezed into the pillow to sleep. And this way my day ended. Until another diary entry from my not - so special days , Buh Bye ! Sleep well and you will have to tolerate more of my scribblings tomorrow !

    - Sanchitha
    ©santor_674

  • santor_674 49w

    // Years went by , the baby flowered as an angel - She unveiled a wrapped box to find a miscellany of her lifetime, it was 5:30 pm again ,but this one instance her parents were not there to hold her hands but she could possess a bouquet to pay the last rites in their funeral//

    #start

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    Sweet Stages Of Life

    Evenings are high on love ; for he held her hand in tight , the sky seemed gloomy , the lightning then striked over the cranky house, she yelled in pain and when he saw her cry , tears rolled over his eyes . Yet the cry of the little infant put back a smile on everybody's face. The hands of the clock paused at 5:30 when the baby cried aloud. The baby's mother and father glared at each other and their eyes galloped those unuttered verses that sparkled the enlightenment of joy. The thunder brought in the art of fireworks in disguise and the downpour showered in. The aroma of the petrichor put the baby and the mother to sleep, while the father clicked the first Polaroid and remarked it as - "We became a family of 3 at 5:30 pm".

    Evenings are high on love, for the child yelled out - " Maa" at as sudden and the mother leaped in to the room, she wavered a huge smile and the baby 's gleaming eyes galloped all her tears of happiness putting a wide smile in the huge curvy face. She found the clock to be settling at 5:30 pm, she rushed to the door waiting for her husband to arrive soon and hear what the baby said. He clicked a Polaroid and remarked again - "When she said the most beautiful word in the world"

    Evenings are high on love for the couple along with their baby walked along the porch and reached out to the meadow. The couple's hands were held together and their eyes locked for a moment until the baby screamed in and they smiled with a blush , they laid her on the sand bed and she played well there, but to their surprise she rose up and laid her first steps . The father checked his watch it was 5:30 pm. He then took his camera and clicked another Polaroid and remarked - "When the Angel kept her first steps on the heaven"

    And each year that passed away , had something exceptional for the baby and her parents and each time the clock settled at 5:30 , their eyes sparkled in delight.
    ©santor_674

  • santor_674 51w

    It's been months since we met, our hands coupled , we roam around a paradise of the pleasant zephyr , with the cluster of diverse trees and bushes , and the warm sunlight. The chit chat of the students around and we walk over with a wide smile. I stand bored when you talk to other familiar people of yours and the moment you look into me, you laugh and we run away from that place . Then we reach to our favourite destination after much running, walking and talking and random jokes - "CANTEEN" . We pick up most of the snacks over that and eat them halfway through , leaving back the remaining pieces to our other friends. Then comes the moment of departure where we roam again with the longest way possible to our classroom. I wish that happens soon, ' 'cause nothing can beat the school lunch breaks!

    Every bell that rings right before the recess , is awaited the most by all of us , as it rings loudly we step up and our legs never remain still. We run behind when the teacher leaves , and grab the ball from the teacher and play at our utmost until we sweat hard and then we come up with a race of who will reach the first to the classroom from the play ground and I end up losing always. I wish it could happen again , though I lose in the race , for I don't need victory but to wipe my tears over those memories.

    Every substitution period has its own story! All of us cook up our own stories ( And those stories I made on my own urged me as a better writer today, it seems) to run away from the classroom and we end up meeting each other in our secret spot which beholds all of our secrets , gossips and memories - "The Bathroom" . We laugh, we get serious when talking about something prominent, and tears roll up as we laugh harder. And whenever someone from other classes enter through, we hide inside the bathrooms. I wish that happens soon , cause the fragrance of the restroom still lingers in my nostrils.

    And right at 2:40, the bell rings , we pack our huge backpacks and rush downstairs , then finally we settle under the shade of the cycle stand and gossip until it's too late and then peddle to our homes through our respective cycles. I wish we could peddle our cycles all through eternity in the same old uniform.

    And the after school talks using the landline is a bliss. Some special moments of clicking pictures using our favorite teacher's phone and relishing them forever has its own value. Thinking of creative Nick names for our friends and blushing after conveying our own first school love story to our friends in utter silence , is always the most hard and yet relieving moment of the life! I wish we sit around the same way in a huge circle and listen up the same old stories and laugh at each other.

    And the every rain dance we perform in our school when it rains is always the enjoyable dance performance ever!! I wish we could dance to the same and every rain drop that falls over the ground , whirls happily seeing our wide smiling faces.
    #11wishc

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    I wish I could meet us all again!

    School was a not just an ordinary building , but it had everything that one could yearn for in any stage of his life. School was indeed a paradise in disguise.
    ©santor_674

  • santor_674 51w

    There was a complete silence in the dusky night where the stellar spheres beheld themselves as snowflakes shimmering in hush. The bushes and the grass blades of the meadow , lay drowsy with no one to tread over them.

    At a sudden, someone lingers over them and they sigh of his heftiness. He walks over and over as the entire meadow consisting of the rosewood trees , the bushes and the grass blades and the lane of bellflower awakens in fear.

    Their eyes grew sensitive to the gleaming lantern he carries along with him. But to surprise , be disappears in the dark and the meadow searches for him who is to be found nowhere. Then they all regarded him as an illusion who was a demon in disguise - carrying away the murkiest secrets.

    Everyone lay in chaos when the sky drizzled it's snowy pearls.
    The aroma of its petrichor blooms out as the fragrance of the mother's lap to put down everybody to sleep. As the rain patters over them to caress , they all abode in the dreamy fantasies of the spring.

    The sky remarks - What makes him a wonder that his footsteps reversed this dusky and creepy meadow into a blossoms of the spring.
    The summit replied - His silence did them all.

    #picturec
    #drizzlec

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    //But the boy still remains as a mystery for no one ever had been acknowledged by his whereabouts//
    ©santor_674