in the end ~ a decima – s.s. (Mindfills)

We’re just a moment in the end

having played the cards we were dealt

with joy and grace and love we felt

as our time and space and life blend

and small voices in our heads wend

chanting I am a museum full of art,

and a deck full of music hearts

but is there someone who may think

of us, write and draw us in ink

and speak of moments we were part

online at:


Reena’s exploration challenge – I’m a museum full of art and a deck full of music but…

Sadje’s what do you see

Ronovan writes Decima challenge – Blend in A abbaaccddc

Go Do go cafe Tuesday writing prompt hosted by Devereaux Frazier and Beth Amanda – in the end we were just a moment

MindLoveMisery’s Michael’s Sunday writing prompt – cards

The Mirror of my Memories – Shreya Joshi (Wild Scared Crazy)

Her eyes, wide and gleaming,
Filled with love, hope, and curiosity,
Such a sharp awakening,
From a deary loop of mundanity.

Such high expectations from life,
So many dreams to be fulfilled,
In such a hurry to grow up,
To be independent, move out.

Little does she know,
What’s yet to come,
Life kills hopes and dreams,
And sucks one into a routine.

In her eyes, I saw myself,
She’s the mirror of my memories,
And forgotten dreams.
Of what I thought, life would be.

online at:

Featured image by:  @thiszun (follow me on IG, FB) from Pexels

“The door opens slowly” – Nayana Nair (it rains in my heart)

I turned another corner
and walked into another house
that I knew nothing about.
The owner, the god of this land stood there
outside in the garden
telling a child how to create more beautiful loops,
how to somersault,
how to find more worms, more of everything.
An adult placed like a talisman
that couldn’t keep me
or what I bring with me away.
He didn’t even notice the grave that I carried in me,
the open pits in ground awaiting more bodies.

I walked to the front door and rang the bell
thinking, wondering what must I not be seeing
in the person I see as a fool.
I wonder if the graves in him didn’t love him back as well.
The door opens slowly and I wait.
I let my willingness to wait announce to her that it is me.
She makes me a wait a bit more-
that is the nature of game we are caught in.

Seconds and hours I spend on her couch,
waiting for the commotion outside to end,
for “the happy family on a sunday morning” to end.
She has four brother
and an almost sister that they never talk about.
She reminds me this a few more times
so that on the mental map of belonging and similarities
I find this unnamed sister closer to my role.

They rush in like a flood, like a rain gone wrong-
all these bodies that I am not supposed to see.
“They are perfect”, I thought to myself.
I thought of my mother, the anger in my home,
the counting of countless miseries,
the coarse harsh words that filled my eyes, then filled my mouth,
the gentle sunsets that drown only dreams.
“They are perfect”, I think, “for someone living in the same world as me”.

She tells them about my scholarships, about my fragile upbringing,
about the art that runs in me.
She tells them all about the things that they like.
For today she has made them into me.
I smile and say a little too less.
I smile as I mean no harm.

But I know
I am here.
I am here and there is no escape
from the fact that eventually
I will sit in this room with my love
and with a glitter pen running out of ink.
I will draw, deepen the cracks that I already see.

Such is my nature.
Such are the songs that I live on repeat.

online at:

Finding you at summer’s end – Neha (forgotten meadows)

It was like…

it was meant to be,

finding you at summer’s end,

where all things fall,

through the dotted lines…

of gold and red,

finding you at summer’s end.

poetry copyright neha 2020/ free image taken from pexels credit goes to original artist

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You Can Be Happy – Intellectual Shaman

When the world is crashing down

and it’s a sin to smile

and all the people are hysterical

with chemicals shooting through their brains

like love, like hate, like fear, like loneliness

and you have been wondering why you read philosophy

Suddenly, the dawn breaks…

You eat hope like dessert

with a big cherry on top

Your pleasure is circulating

it’s yours

and it won’t be donated to the blood bank

it’s life force

sending feel-good thoughts to your brain

power in the stream

your current keeps circulating

like electricity

How you think

changes things.

Lifting weights

in the dark

I transform…

those holding onto power

can’t get enough

they are powerless inside

the function of what we need

is a function of what we don’t have

if you possess power

magnetism manifests

attraction is not possession

doors will open

the world is outside

and it wants to come in

it wants to feel good

but when the world wants something

it doesn’t have it

getting it, is not the way to get it

Have you ever gotten something when you didn’t try?

this is the secret




or a smile

if you smile and mean it

you can be happy.

online at:

155- Elle (elleguyence)

enthusiastic approval
of even the tiniest of wins
what a delight it is
to be delighted

I’m always trying to best myself
to always grow and be better
I suppose I should also remember
that to best something is to
once have been the best

and maybe that miniature win
should be enough

online at:

Devalued. – Harley Reborn

I miss the days where it wasn’t so easy

To up and run away

Where serious things were met

With responsible responses

No matter how much someone might

Want to forget

Maybe it was the invention of caller ID

Or perhaps answering machines

Pagers beep beep

Or maybe it’s just me

Maybe I need to stay locked up

Do a better job of hiding my keys

Cuz what he did was fucked up

And should have incinerated my feelings

But the real thing that’s fucked up

Is the slight feeling of numbness

Dulling the pain and keeping me at peace

Cuz after all when you think about it

He’s just another person who has

Chosen to devalue me

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Solitary World – chester maynes

in the same
phase, the same
energy, the same weakness.

bounded with
fences of broken glasses,
barbed wires, savage trees.

not the same
characters of the past.
We’ve chained, defeated.

this confinement is
our solitary world of
persecution and injustice.