Miraquill
Caring our own lives has become so expensive
©sparklingteja
sparklingteja
IG: suryateja_malkapuram
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Autumn Leaf
Like a lonely bird,
in an autumn,
I crooked
on a empty bough-
It's not raining,
neither shivering,
yet, I shrunk myself
and noticing
the leaf fall.
I loved,
You basked,
I bloomed,
but, withered.
If I fall like a leaf,
who will catch me,
or at least,
who will notice me.
©sparklingteja -
Gift
The smile you wear
when my thoughts hit you
is the most precious gift ever I had.
©sparklingteja -
those who feel,
will suffer.
©sparklingteja -
Fia and Papa
“Papa”, Fia, splashing legs in pond, asked, “who are you, papa? What did you do there?”
Certainly, those were the questions to which he was not intended to answer, at least, for that moment.
However, “who you are defines where you be and what you do”, replied unintendedly.
With a pondering mind, “then, who are you papa”, Fia interrogated. The most painful question.
“Who am I”, he, with an empty mind, started invading his past to abridge who he was.
“I am …” he couldn’t define himself with a word, or a phrase, or even with a sentence. He was still a man without a tag.
“You know?” he paused to check if she was still curious. She was excited.
“We are animals with cognition. Even though, we look similar yet we are diversified”, he became a philosopher.
Of course, her look was clear. Perplexed.
He realized, he couldn’t make her understand. He, for a while, thought and stated “What I mean was, I cannot tell you I am something but I can explain who I was and what made me who I am now”.
With a super exciting joy, “Do you tell your story, papa?” Fia jumped in the pond.
“If you are eager enough”, he put a condition.
“I am curious”
“Well, let’s begin then”
©sparklingteja -
Make In India
Get fooled
Get murdered
Get raped
©sparklingteja -
sparklingteja
87w
I don't write awe things
but I write raw things
©sparklingteja -
sparklingteja
87w
I'm not just offering an oath as
but my life
©sparklingteja -
sparklingteja
87w
I hide you in my heart
and let you glow in my eyes
©sparklingteja -
sparklingteja
87w
My fire in the night is a moon in your life
©sparklingteja
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mishrasupriya
91w
Solitude and I
Solitude and I,
Stars be my thoughts, brain be my sky.
Building spaces amidst chaos,
To see the silence, to see the absolute obvious.
An abyss of unending emotions,
Dwelling in tears, some dotting with questions.
A smile for the feathers that I have got,
And sorrows for many who have lost.
To sneak out from banality,
Into the bewitched mirror of originality.
I join lines and broken lies,
And give my candour a wholesome fly.
Solitude and I travel the times,
Solitude and I scribble these rhymes.
Solitude and I,
Stars be my thoughts, brain be my sky.
©mishrasupriya -
Language shapes the experience,
And my experience says;
Let it all go...
©loona83 -
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poetic_blues_
97w
Read MoreIn the early stages of my life,
I heard fancy tales about poets.
.
.
I heard that poets are strange
creatures with messy hair,
tangled thoughts and heads
among stars..
.
.
I heard, they ain't ordinary ones,
and are kinda weird.
.
I heard, they befriend words,
and I always got flabbergasted
over their choices.
.
____________________________
.
I always wondered what being a
poet meant, until I became one.
.
---------------------------------------------
.
In life, when all friendships
hurted beyond healing, I befriended my pen.
.
.
When my handkerchief got tired of soaking
my tears, I started pouring them into
fine layers of paper.
Only then, I realised what a poet means.
And, how much pain and struggle
it takes, scribbling a verse. .
.
.
|| Verses ain't easy creations, nor is
poetry.. ||
.
To write, you need a heart full of beauty;
a heart radiating the real essence of
beauty.
For, poets are the ones with most beautiful
hearts, painted with hues of words and
verses, and brushed with vibrant shades of
similies and metaphors.
Poets and poetry ain't easy stuff. It takes an
era of longing, plethora of untold emotions, and
myriads of hidden tears to become a poet.
------------------------------------------------------------
.
Poetry isn't a lost syllable, but an incompletely
complete rhythm; the lost beat of a dead heart,
the lost life of a wilted rose, the lost charm
of a withered youth, and the lost breath of a
dead souvenir.
.
------------------------------------------------------------
.
Poets do not believe in mediocre, and
stereotypes, they are the true seekers of light.
Even, when the darkness is all they see,
they have the touch of lightening the dark
cosmos with their aura and rhythmic symphony.
A poet ain't a fancy character, for sure.
A poet is one who follows his heart..
And sees life in lifelessness.
------------------------------------------
.
Poets disguise their pain in poems...
And, people confuse their scars
with similies and metaphors,
their sighs with rhymes
and their blood with ink.
.
--------------------------------------------
.
.
. //A poet is someone, even poetry can't explain..//
.
.
.
-T | ©poetic_blues_
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.
.
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#lost #rhythm #pod #mirakee #writersnetwork #ceesreposts @writersnetwork @mirakee.
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In the stream of my conscious-
ness and in my unconscious-
ness you are the single
incumbent thought that
interweaves my mind,
carrying the remnants of
reminiscenses, reminding
the swears and pledges,
revealing the cicatrix of
treachery, reverting back the
tears falling from the lacrimals.
©ishrat_zaman -
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kattamuri
97w
ఈ రోజుల్లో నటించే వాళ్ళు నలుగురితో బాగానే ఉన్నారు యదార్ధంగా మాట్లాడేవారే ఒంటరిగానే ఉంటున్నారు అందుకే అన్నారు...
యదార్థవాది లోకవిరోధి
© కట్టమూరి సుస్మిత -
kattamuri
97w
డబ్బు
నోరు లేకుండానే పలికిస్తుంది
కండ్లు లేకుండానే శాసిస్తుంది
చేతులు లేకుండానే ఆడిస్తుంది
కాళ్లు లేకుండానే నడిపాడు స్తుంది
లేని బంధాలను కలిపేస్తుంది
ఉన్న బంధాలను తుడిచేస్తుంది
ఇది మనసులేని "మనీ"
మనిషి చేసిన "మనీ"
మనసును, మనిషినీ ఆడిస్తున్న "మనీ"....!!!!
© కట్టమూరి సుస్మిత.. -
Did I disappoint you ?- he asked
No. You haven’t - I replied
While my eyes started to be flooded by tears
-I will remember you whenever it rains and I will have to walk onto wet ground,
when I look up at gloomy sky,
when I go to visit museums,
when it snows,
when it’s really cold outside
but I won’t feel it
For it was in those cold days
I felt something warm to carry on
and hope for.
No, you haven’t disappointed me dear!
©loona83 -
bhavnasj
98w
��
©bhavnasj
