for #napowrimo day 6, I combined three prompts today- travel anxiety by @ayaskala , a poem centred around a word in your native language by @ttt_official and use the words sunlight, damage, barmecidal by @airplanepoetrymovement // প্ৰস্থান (Prosthan, Assamese for "departure")// there are exactly 21 emails
in my drafts folder
that I never sent to you
because I learned somewhere that
it takes 21 days to form a habit
and I wanted to form this new one
of not thinking about you the whole day.
I still remember the sky
on the day I'd left for bangalore,
I'd never seen a sky so grey;
it looked like it was mourning for my loss.
it was my first trip alone
and I remember you wrote to me-
"by the time this reaches you,
your feet would be touching a different soil"-
and I tried not to think about it
but found myself looking
outside the window more often
to remind myself that atleast
we were under the same sky.
I remember everything about that trip-
to begin with,
every morning for forty five days,
my hands reached out to
the other side of the bed
only to realise I was alone,
and every night,
I slept to you telling me
it's a good thing we broke up
before I'd left,
how difficult it would have been
to break up on a Skype call.
I know you wanted to make things easier
but the damage these words did to my depression
the sadness, unbearable.
but I lived through, somehow
putting my phone on flight mode
even though I was flying nowhere,
and wrote emails to you instead,
day after day.
and on the 22nd day,
my new habit failing me,
I hit send.
you replied with the youtube link
of your favourite song
and I swear,
for the first time in a long time,
the sky looked clear,
and in a place where it was always raining,
fresh sunlight hit my face.// #napowrimo2020#glopowrimo#poetsofinstagram#poetsofttt#ttt#terriblytinytales#writingcommunity#napowrimoxayaskala#napowrimottt2020#sideasideb#poetrycommunity
NOU✣VEAU pattern flash
예약가능 / Available .
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14s14 seconds ago
Allah ne verdiyse dalıyoruz iie güce buna dua etsinler
59 minutes ago
TO AN APOLITICAL PERSON, WITH LOVE - #NaPoWriMoTTT2020 - Anushree Joshi (@duskydays)
Hey you, did I tell you
That I love you?
Not the Taylor Swift baby-just-say-yes
Kind of love, but the I-can't-stop
Kind of love.
I love how you think caste
Doesn't exist anymore because
Your professor gave a really good lecture
On Shakespeare who was wise enough
To ask what's in a name
While someone was cleaning the gutter
Outside your classroom.
I love the way you lie
Really low when Dilli burns
Because Gandhiji said violence is bad
And the Gita says something about
Karma, but your social media activism
Lights up for torched buses.
I love your views on Marx and Engels
At the family dinner table
The way your smile forms
Like in a Julia Roberts rom-com
When you say religion is an opium
Of the people, and those Muslims
They're backward because the women
Wear hijab, while ordering your mother
To put another roti on your plate.
I love the sound of your voice
Like a Mohammed Rafi song on the radio
That I've memorized the spaces of
When you ask me, "How can you
Break a friendship over politics
What about democracy?"
With Babasaheb frowning a little
From your oakwood finished bookshelf.
I love when I tell you, you shake
Your head a little like Dev Anand
For how in the world could
Personal be political
That's just bad diplomacy friend.
Hey you, did I tell you
That I love you
Like an arranged marriage
Because in our apolitical
Cultured, perfect, privileged
Little paradise, divorce is taboo?
- Releitura da obra: “o abraço” de Gustav Klimt (1905-1909). ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ Na composição O Abraço, uma mulher e um homem entrelaçam-se num forte abraço. O personagem masculino, vestindo um longo quimono, e de costas para o observador, deixa visível apena parte do cabelo negro, pescoço e costas. A figura feminina, por sua vez, apesar de encoberta pelo corpo masculino, como se fosse um muro à sua frente, traz o rosto e a mão direita visíveis, e uma pequena parte da esquerda. Também é possível distinguir parte da roupa feminina, em razão das cores e da diferença dos elementos decorativos.
Klimt traçou um contorno sinuoso do do vestido da mulher perante o perfil retilíneo da vestimenta masculina.
O Abraço aborda um tema recorrente na produção de Klimt: o abraço entre homem e mulher: O motivo apareceu pela primeira vez em Amor (1895) e se repetiu em Filosofia (1899-1907) e O Friso Beethoven (1904). O auge ocorreu em O Beijo (1907-08). ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ Para saber mais sobre horários disponíveis e agendamento (MAIO/JUNHO) é só clicar no link em meu perfil e falar um pouco sobre sua ideia. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀•Feita no Rodrigo, foi um prazer receber você por aqui, obrigado pela confiança em meu trabalho para realizar esse projeto. ✨🍀🙏🏼 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀#tatuagem #tattoo#ttt#fine#art#line#work #tatuagemobraço #gustavklimt#klimt#gustav#ouro#sp #pe.
We're talking abt the 4 Ds of impairment this wk... if you've been drinking🤪, using drugs⚠️, are distracted by texts/radio/people📵🔊👨👩👧👦, or are tired😴 you should NOT be behind the wheel!!🚳🚨🚗 and if you're a passenger, you SHOULD #speakup & find a safe way for you & other passengers to get to your destination! #motivationmonday
Be on the lookout all wk for tips. Tune into the #virtuallunchroom tomorrow @ 230P. #Kahoot weds @ 3P (FREE shirt👕 for winner!). #TTT thurs @ 12P.
32 minutes ago
target for @acid_sport
🇧🇾МИНСК - СЕЙЧАС
🇩🇪BERLIN - ???
🇷🇺 MOSCOW - ???
📬DM for booking
We made paperboats of love one summer,
when the sleepy town was away vacationing,
the rusty-green jharokhas yawning behind their khus overalls,
and crickets chirping in the pond by my place,
the grandmoms knitting pullovers for their little ones,
and men in silvery beard huddling over chess in bamboo tea stalls,
the kids yelling happiness, while their feet danced in the puddles,
and lovers being heartbroken over jammed telephone lines.
We made paperboats of love that summer,
your's in yellow, and mine in blue,
one for our love in red, and another for the town in green,
we made paper boats of love,
crouching under the tarp in your garage,
chewing gum and bursting bubbles
of innocence, and adolescence,
our warmth brushing against my cheeks,
and your suddenly-grown long legs,
exchanging vows between giggles
to never give up on us, till death do us part.
The summer night progressed ahead getting darker and darker, heralding something irregular and unnatural.the kid kept marching fast up to the Riverside road panting badly.his carotid pulse as if echoed across the entire area.nothing seemed normal;neither the guy nor the surroundings .Was he trying to chase or getting chased ?He kept muttering prayers to himself as if pleading with someone in fear.the prevailing silence broke by gunshots and clanking of daggers which was getting louder and clearer gradually .The kid tried hiding behind the tree and threw a stone to destroy the bulb causing illumination there.unfortunately that missed, catching attention of the attackers.he was terrified and started sobbing -the invaders gushed towards him with full speed to attack .Suddenly something illuminated nearby and it got bigger and approached the mob diagonally .Within seconds all of them were beheaded; he realized it was a sword .That wasn't one of a regular sword -it shone bright and looked sharp af with a length unseen.it richoceted back and stood upright .It illuminated again and this time it was like a lightning-the thing he saw yielding it was like a statue gifted life.the bust of a sculpted diety ,long hair -it was growing upwards like a supernatural stuff.he failed to see the face when the phenomenon disappeared into the night .The boy ran away fearing he had seen a ghost .
As he reached home ,he saw his entire family watching the news channel.Puri temple is deserted ,the diety of Jagannath isnt there- and the sword of chatia is missing too.is this what the prophecy was all about ?Did he see God protecting him few minutes back?Has the final incarnation arrived ?The kid freaked out and ran out of the house to see high tides attacking the terrestrial locality .It indeed was the end -the kid shouted in fear "rakhya kara " as darkness dissolved the scene .
I woke up gasping hard after seeing myself in a dream after a long time .I rarely see dreams , but when I do I can't keep calm .Doesn't matter if it's reality or dream ,it's God or virus -the world is ending .
부엉이귀에다대고잇는것도 존아웃기다 알겟어요 현대 K패치 해서 오겠습니다 ㅋㅌㅊ
48 minutes ago
Every time Abbu hits Ammi and
I run to hit him back
with my green plastic bat
with my four feet-thirty kilogram frame
Ammi stops me saying, "Abbu earns. Money doesn't grow on trees"
and I scream,
"You cook. Do rotis grow on trees?"
When Abbu and Arnab's Baba have
a fight on the street, they
say we're different
and I agree, "Arnab came third by
one mark and I topped. We're different"
and the next day in school
Arnab eats the Biryani Ammi made
and I have his Besan ke laddoo
and we both agree that
kitchens are better battlefields
but history never writes about them
I ask Ammi what if
we call pink as white
and two plus two as five
no one would know, who
changed the rules
and Ammi groans,
"I wonder who gave birth
spits next to our rusted gate, and
fall over his nameplate, and
Arnab's Baba spits khaini across theirs,
forty-year-old men competing
over spits not piss, and I agree
"Of course, we're different"
every dawn, Ammi and Arnab's Ma scrub them
while sharing tips—
"Add a boiled potato in over-salted dal to balance", and
"Apply gulabjal with haldi and
your bruises would be hidden"
I thought this was normal—
Ammi swallowing tears so
Abbu's dal doesn't get extra-salty
Arnab's Ma skipping beauty-parlor sessions
for 'natural remedies'
recently, they both
grew stomachs as big as my football, and then Arnab's pillow
and last night,
for the first time, and
Abbu took out his car, and
Arnab's Baba, cash for both
today, when Ammi and I were leaving the street
with Arnab and his Ma,
both our fathers were handcuffed,
the police were searching the two houses
for the corpses of two newborn daughters
and the lilies I'd planted were upside down
the new house we've found is tiny,
but to make things easy
I've written the names of Ammi and Arnab's Ma on my slate
and hung it on the doornail
"I wonder who gave birth,
but I winked,
"No one would know, who
changed the rules."
Aj kuch hindi me ho jaye💛
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•SEVENTY-FIFTH TIME OVER•
'Maana ki mohabbat ka,
chupana hai mohabbat...'
There are times
When your drunken, platonic I love you's
Flood my phone,
And my foolish mouth says it back to you-
Not so platonically.
And there are days when your kisses don't count:
Like the weeds in my mother's backyard that she doesn't count either among petunias.
She hums to her flowers, 'Ranjish hi sahi'
And I call back your kisses with 'Dil hi dukhane ke lie aa'.
And there are evenings when your laughter over the phone,
does not sound as comforting against the faint sound of giggles in between the static.
And just like that, our fingers do not touch each other in cinema halls and restaurants/
And just like that we need up in bedsheets that smell like the apocalypse on a red mattress inside four black walls.
My heart throbs when you leave the room, and my arms quietly call you back with 'Aa phir se, mujhe chod ke jaane ke liye aa'.
And then there are nights, babe
When you're high (higher than the whole wide world)
and like to talk about how pretty the sky is;
And even though the stars don't shine, you draw them anyways
on my cheeks, my back and my lips
Just because you can
because nobody's around.
The skies sing: 'Kis kis ko batayenge judai ka sabab hum',
And when you pass out, I sing back:
'Tu mujhse khafa hai to zamane ke lie aa'.
And then there are mornings, babe
When you're sober (the stone cold kind)
and still can't seem to make up your mind
about us existing outside your room.
And on those mornings I pretend like she's not coming over later,
And you pretend like two boys kissing each-other is just a one-night stand happening again for the seventy-fifth time over.
And when I drive back home, the old radio in my red Santro spits out:
'Kuch to mere pindar-e-mohabbat ka bharam rakh,
Tu bhi kabhi mujhko manane ke lie aa;
Ranjish hi sahi,
dil hi dukhane ke lie
aa.' Prompt (by @ttt_official ): Favourite lines from a song