• I Left My Beloved
    Devi | 15-Jan-2019
    My beloved is alone in the strange place of theirsI left my beloved in the darkest of placesFrom where you can hardly see the roadThe forest: maze, cageAll the beasts and gamesI left my beloved in the strangest place of theirs I had been there all aloneI mingled with the beast and won their gamesIt is different since my daysThey changed the rules, they changed the gamesI left my beloved in the strangest place of theirs Beasts are stronger than ever, Cruel smirk on their face as the blood of their last prey drips down their chinThere are dreams and ambitions, dreams and ambitions on the wayAnd at the end of the lane, it was the primrose pathBut it is the darkest of places Battles are not newI would replace her the frontline if I couldI would be the vanguard if they let meI wanted to go with her at least There were dreams and ambitions, dreams and ambitions on my wayI left my beloved in the strangest place of theirs
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  • abeer athar | 11-Jan-2019
    Looking back and walking down the memory lane you will find yourself dancing below a tree with the fall of the autumn leaves....nonchalantly romancing with the barren spring inside yourself with the abstract hope of the fertile rain that will replenish the wild flowers within all those wounds you got from the thorns of the roses.... And one day u will look back and see how you felt from all those mountains you climbed so you bravely and wildly constructed a city of love, happiness and lights in the valley of melancholy silence .. A city too profound to be found...you will look back and praise yourself how did you break the window ceiling when you didn't find the key of that dark locked room..How did you fall back from that broken window ceiling but still with the ray of light and you used that light to grow your Wild Wings....so now you look back and find Miracles are not pixie dust or unicorns but everything ironically indestructible like broken ceilings, autumn leaves, mountain falls, crashed landings and d
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  • abeer athar | 11-Jan-2019
    And these scars read the stories on the abandoning of the sunshine and the arrival of the sullen pale crimson night.... The stories that could have started but ended with the starting note... And these scars sing lullaby in the midnight consumed by the destructive thoughts.... Lullaby that describes the fables of all those warriors who had a smile on their forehead in the form of the tangled frown....and these scars dance on the glance of broken wind chimes like a forlorn letting all it's notes flow deep inside it.. They tell stories that you don't want to hear, sing lullaby that doesn't make you sleep and those wind chimes make you tremble on the edge of the memory rope doing contortions..but maybe they are looking for their origin matching their traces with the finger tips of the characters in all those stories they tell .... Maybe its not the lullaby but Deja Vu of their past life of those unending ended commitments.... And maybe these scars were once the roses that were plucked and left to die..may be the
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  • Arpita | 19-Nov-2018
    हर रोज़ से थोड़ा ज्यादा, फिर भी उनसे थोड़ा कम, बस इतनी सी मोहब्बत है उनसे !
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  • A Walk to Remember
    Digvita Shah | 23-Sep-2018
    Yesteryears hand held for the first time to holding the hand with sonsome else today! Years of living with them as mains; priority swaps at a snap of a finger! Learning to take baby steps with them to walking down the aisle with someone else beside! Falling and standing up at that place called home; is it a feeling of falling apart for a new home? The smiling faces when you cried for the first time ever to them crying today when you try holding back yours! Was I living for this day or living by this day! Ever wondered to ask; how emerging of the cacoon felt? Moments of treasure; A walk to remember!
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  • Himanshu Manna | 20-Jun-2018
    The apple I endeavor now, Was once on my fruit bowl... But now has slipped from my hand, And gone to the darkness of no reach....
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  • Ghost Memories
    Ankita Kulkarni | 18-Jun-2018
    They lurk Like the red eyed monsters At the back of our minds Ready to cast a shadow Like a grey cloud Of fear and doubt They are the ghosts Lurking in the attics Of our minds Born through the power Of bad experiences and mistrust Ready to taint The happy memories With their darkness To make you fear Their very existence To never allow you To enjoy the good Withough felling their shadows Cast upon your mind Why, O Why Can you not disappear In a whisp of smoke Allowing me to bask In the true happiness Of my new memories Why, O Why Won't you allow me To forget the darkness That tries To rear its head Every time I wish To make new memories Why, O Why Must you drive me To words and acts That I will regret From time to time For I know that memories Are the true ghosts Of our lives
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  • PayalAgrawal | 13-Jun-2018
    Why this silence comes in every night,Why this dream comes in every night,I know I can’t do anything,I am just a useless thing,Then why this dream comes in every night. -Payal Agrawal
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  • That falling star
    Abhishek Mishra | 27-May-2018
    "There was a certain tranquility in that free-fall of that shooting star; Almost, as if she wanted me to wish for you  to come back, to put the broken pieces together, one more time.
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  • Surrender
    Abhishek Mishra | 27-May-2018
    Those glaring stars of the night, Those reluctant sighs of the immense sky That entourage of those tides Resting along the shoreline, We impressions of a tale, Imploring for inception, with the missing protagonist - one who made, that walk indelible, from the evening, that was drafted on white fabric, of my heart, yesterday  
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  • Akshay Patil | 18-Apr-2018
    From the last bench in the corner,My eyes kept on...looking at her 👀 Every time she turned around,My heart beat increased its sound ! The sound synced our way to love,Keeping the fragrance as fresh as clove ! Years passed by, one thing led to another,Her heart soured, when she couldn't become a mother ! Solved the puzzle, by adopting a kid,which was merrier;Loosing them both accidentally, was series of sorrow in fourier !
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  • The Real Win!!
    Digvita Shah | 07-Apr-2018
    It's not about being a stealer or robber, but about earning someone!! It's not about being a beggar, but about affording and being worthy of someone!! It's not about being a refugee to feelings, but about standing by it!! It's not about being comparative, but about being a valuable contender!! It's not about being an option, but about being someone's final choice!!
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  • The Blue Car!
    Manali Jobanputra | 04-Apr-2018
    It was a beautiful Saturday, When I first met this pretty boy, I was the morning cliché, He was agog and full of joy.   I kept fazing from afar, My cheeks turning blush, Soon he left in his blue car, I stood there, feeling the happy gush.   I was amazed at my emotions, A stranger just made my day? My insides in total commotion, How did I go from Duh! to YAY?   We rendezvoused more frequent, And each time, I’d be happier than before, Our relationship came to cement, But me; Insatiable evermore.   I quickly run up to my window, Each time I hear a car pass by, It ain’t him, I hope it were though, And I stand there, gazing into the sky.   My heart skips a beat, A blue car each time I see, I can’t help but peep at the seat, Hoping to see my bundle of glee.   He is my happiness ka pitara, My 4 year old amigo, Meri aankho ka taara, Who can instantly make me glow.
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  • Bhumika Chavda | 23-Mar-2018
    Let's talk of friendship again; Let's talk of that trust again, Let's talk of what was left unsaid, Of what we wished we should have said, Of everything that remained incomplete like an open wound in this polluted air; Let's talk of that elixir that would heal what was left unattended, Of the abruption that came. May be someday you'll gather the courage to see what went wrong, Of that ego which came along. But till then, There would be no point of talking of that friendship again, Of talking of that trust again. So let's leave it at this, Where everything is open, everything unattended, Because we will never be friends again,  And I'll never trust again.     
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  • Her
    Her
    Rucha Bindu | 08-Mar-2018
    She loved fashion, but in her own fashion. She didn't believe in tight pants But in baggy night pants. She didn't admire light and glamour, But quick wit and humour. Because all the things that touched her heart Had nothing to do with looks. She loved the fragrance of wild flowers And that of old books.
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  • Govind Hersal | 07-Mar-2018
    मेरे हानियां तुम बस मेरी  कहानियों में सिमट गए हो ।
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