soulfulstirrings

A mom , an artist , a dreamer ...... my pen pens down what stirs my soul ! ���� I write ....what I observe .

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  • soulfulstirrings 7w

    tangerine skies ?
    an enthralling ephemeral pause embossed on the bosom of blues
    when twilight tangos with night

    ©soulfulstirrings

  • soulfulstirrings 8w

    Poetry

    when words perch on solitary ribcages
    thawing bergs to bloom like wildflowers
    and tangerine coloured skies
    arch to touch lilac hearts
    It's then she rekindles lost warmth
    lighting up hearths
    in a heim
    abandoned by hope

    ©soulfulstirrings

  • soulfulstirrings 9w

    Refer -
    Nani - maternal grandmother
    Aam panna - Is an Indian drink renowned for its cooling properties. It is made from raw mangoes and is yellow to light green in color, and is consumed as a tasty and healthy beverage to fight against the intense Indian summer heat.
    Masala - In Indian cookery, masala is a mixture of spices ground into a paste.
    Dupatta - A long scarf of cotton , silk or chiffon worn by South Asian women over the shoulder or draped around the head .
    Bindi - a coloured dot marked on the forehead .

    #grandma @odysseus

    Thank you so much @writersnetwork ❤️
    Thank you so much @miraquill ❤️❤️
    Thank you for letting me revisit precious memories of my loving grandma today through this prompt .. kindly accept my gratitude ��

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    Nani

    she was a potpourri of love
    sprinkled with oodles of laughter
    a saga of intriguing stories
    her kitchen no less than an artist's atelier
    with rows of homemade pickles and jams
    jars of aam panna to drink
    through our sweltering summer holidays
    I remember nani
    with her deeply tanned hands
    ever stretched out
    to envelope me in her warm embrace
    she smelled of mellow moments ...
    a vivid memory etched
    on the canvas of my childhood ...
    aromas of heaven infused masalas
    still linger in my mind
    as I recollect her pounding laboriously
    on a stone carved mortar and pestle
    with her dupatta sitting delicately
    on her salt and pepper head
    her nosepin sparkling
    as beads of sweat slid down
    her bindi dotted forehead
    with each bite of her hand cooked meal
    there was a story that kept me enthralled
    and I remember ma watching us from a corner
    with a wistful smile and wet eyes
    she's long gone now
    and her mortar and pestle
    sits proudly in my kitchen
    a reminder of how people pass on
    Leaving behind legacies to cherish
    in which we search
    what we've forever lost

    ©soulfulstirrings

  • soulfulstirrings 9w

    I love the way poetry imbues into a poet's soul
    flowing through his being
    becoming his confidante
    as he holds her close to his heart
    and sets on a voyage
    foraging words
    seeking solace

    ©soulfulstirrings

  • soulfulstirrings 9w

    #kwansaba @odysseus

    Thank you so much @writersnetwork ❤️

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    Hope

    hope is a winged angel that perches
    upon endless strings that loop around hearts
    that have seen noire days brush by
    she is the tender touch of revival
    that darns voids tearing through bruised souls
    when eyes heavy with burden of being
    light up like the aurora against dark

    ©soulfulstirrings

  • soulfulstirrings 9w

    #katuata 5 7 7 @odysseus

    Thank you so much @writersnetwork ❤️

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    You are the springtide
    That blooms on my clavicles
    Each time I walk through blizzards

    ©soulfulstirrings

  • soulfulstirrings 10w

    Wayfarer

    Uncertain feet yearn
    the touch of a path they seek
    blistered yet hopeful
    treading through turning seasons
    till they reach an end that's theirs

    An end where awaits
    a refreshing beginning
    where the arms reach out
    to embrace a hued palette
    and sculpt renascence stories

    ©soulfulstirrings

  • soulfulstirrings 11w

    Refer -
    Zora - dawn (Croatian)
    Vignettes -vivid scenes , picture
    Euphony - pleasing or sweet sound

    #haiku @odysseus @sumana_chakraborty
    @preetkanwal

    Thank you so much @writersnetwork ❤️

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    Zora

    Etched on the azure
    Are vignettes of hued grandeur
    an art that allures

    Like a symphony
    Resonating euphony
    nature's harmony

    ©soulfulstirrings

  • soulfulstirrings 12w

    when you reach a dead-end .. just turn around and find another path to walk upon and through

    #miss #writingc @odysseus @writersbay

    Thank you so much @writersnetwork ❣️

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    Tu me Manques

    I miss ..
    the wind in my hair
    and those saffron sunsets
    weaving ballads of varied hues
    the azure welkins
    where I once etched sonnets
    Of my carefree dreams
    the river
    that I once yearned to flow like
    singing songs of gaiety
    I miss ..
    the glint in my orbs
    that once shone like constellations
    the laughter
    that once echoed around
    like a haiku of joy de vivre
    the soul
    that was centred
    like a ballad of zen
    /Until life happened
    and I caved in/

    and to remember that
    all's not lost ..
    i wrote to myself
    a haiku of redemption ..
    /turn around darling
    there will always be a path
    that's yours to walk on/

    ©soulfulstirrings

  • soulfulstirrings 12w

    for every girl who is taken away , given away and finds herself in a brothel ....

    #senses @odysseus

    Thank you so much @writersnetwork ❣️

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    Sigh(t)....
    I was born by the river
    on a moonless night
    with poverty written on my forehead
    my pa bartered me
    for a penny and a bag of rice
    he said I was a blemish
    marked with deep red
    as he rolled under a mountain of debt
    the night I first breathed

    Sound ....
    as I was taken away
    I carried with me
    the silent shrieks of my ma
    and her tears on my bosom

    S(m)ell ....
    if today you ask me
    what does hope smell like ?
    I'd tell you how putrid her whiff is
    she smells like a sepulchre
    where lie buried a million dreams
    once sold in the name of stars
    and crushed fragile beings

    Taste ....
    with betrayal tattooed on my tongue
    I taste her bitter flavour
    each time I see my reflection
    in a frosted mirror

    T(ouch) ...
    my skin shrivels
    as footsteps approach
    and I lie on my bed
    to be ravaged yet once again
    by sweaty hands
    for a millionth time
    /and I caress my empty womb
    vowing never to birth
    for a life bartered
    is a life taken/

    ©soulfulstirrings