I am a soldier
and the work was total

But a window still stood
of a house nearly mortal

Behind the window
there was no sign of he or she

But I could still see a flower
moving gently in the wind
as if saying "Hello" to me


Nature is beyond war, hate, anger etc and treat all humans same, no matter what sin they have done ...

By #pg

@PensivePost #meme

Green Desert
-------------------------

The clock struck 6 and I died,
when my friends heart for the last time sighed.

Gloom was I and wandered the roads for days
that a phoenix would have lived an age.

Blue were the orb, filled with pain,
that I scattered to people around me, lane to lane.


Walking on street nearby, the window descried a scene,
which I couldn't defy.
So I asked the performer about the affair, who then made it clear;


He said ...
"Almighty has made this patch of land in front of my house, futile and lean;
I cant help it...
But from my side...
I AM PAINTING THIS DESERT GREEN...."

By - Piyush Gururani
@PensivePost

JOB APPLICATION OF A POET
A Poem! Can a poet find a real job? But, what can stop him from trying right?


Dear Sir/Madam,
I was standing at life's crossroads
and found that you are looking for a man of ideas and words.
While searching for companies, I found
that yours made a connection and a unique bond.
Between the customer and client,
you make the golden bridge.
Pushing decisions of those
standing at the edge.
In my portfolio, you can find the poems & stories I made.
I make sure that whatever I create shall never fade.
I use the ideas that work for today's time and age.
I arrest their attention; they won't flip the page.
Without further adieu, please find my resume below
My internships, research materials and achievements shows,
that I shall be an asset to your creative force.
If you like my work, if you think I am right for your place.
Call me for an interview; we can meet face to face.
I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,
(by) Ashan Shanker
@PensivePost

The melancholy of a dreamer

Ages ago, I had a dream.
That I would do something,
Something hard to seem

I used to say to myself,
That I wouldnt stain,
Stain my morale for selfish gain.

Earlier when humanity was still stable
I had a mentor, who did everything
Everything with an ethical label.

He said, Bring about the best in you
But dont forsake the left in you.
Humanity is hard to find
Where humans got a one track mind

Trying to follow him as long as I can
when people started looking at me like a crazy man
I never got what I deserved and soon,
I was spinning in a political typhoon

And then, a young boy came to me
With the same dream I had ages ago
It was then I realized what faliure was
And what Important I’d let go

I could have made it work If I tried,
Placing my hand on the boys shoulder
I said never lose hope my child.

I turned around to make a step
With tears rolling down my eyes
I looked down in the sadness
Of the Dream I never realised.

~ by Pooja Mishra

@PensivePost #quote

@PensivePost #poem

@PensivePost #quote by Sarojini Naidu

@PensivePost #comic

@PensivePost #comic #poem

Result of the @WritersClub Mystery Writing Challenge.

The writer in us keeps evolving!
🔰Here is the result of the @WritersClub First Person Narrative Challenge 🔰

There is always hope for the hopeless and that is where I come in to save the day. Or as Casey says it, to ease the pain. I am Casey's closest friend. I am her outlet. She has many of those, though. There's the piano, the paint brushes and there's me (her favorite). Here's how we met.
 
Nobody wants to be a diary but that's what I am and sitting on a book shelf waiting to be bought and never used eventually, is depressing. I, as usual, was laid flat on the surface of the book shelf in a huge supermarket, all black and dusty, with a pen (my Little buddy) attached to my side, amongst other books. Today  will never be my Lucky day, was my usual chant as folks never bought me. Who knew that a girl was going to find me worthy of all her secrets? Most diaries don't get all the secrets. They usually end up useless under pillows, under a pile of dirty clothes, you know, the usual hiding spot and stay forgotten all in the name of "secrecy" and all the juicy secrets end up in the heart of a "best friend" who eventually betrays them. I mean, why purchase us in the first place?

But laying there, watching the  blonde girl point at me, I wondered why she never responded when spoken to but shook her head or nodded instead.

Straight up rude, I thought. But the sadness in those starry browns and the faint smile that appeared on her face when she held me convinced me other wise.

My owner.

I was intrigued. Curious. She never said a word through out the ride home. All she did was stare out of the window and I just watched.

Who are you?

Her first entry gave me goosebumps. I know I'm Just an object but believe me, I get those things too.

She had carefully lifted me off the table that same night, dusted me, settled herself down on her bed and believe me not a word still!!!!

Then slowly, She opened me and I held my breath. She took my Little buddy and set him on my surface, ready to write. She took a deep breathe and then wrote : My tongue is the pen of a ready writer.  I'm Casey Ricee. And I'm mute.

As if she felt the grief that filled my paper heart and couldn't stand it, She gently closed me, laid on her bed and placed me beside her. Then, I knew she would keep me, love me, protect me, confined in me with everything.

Every morning she wakes, I'm there. School, waiting in her bag pack. EVERYWHERE.

My tongue is the pen of a ready writer.

That is her mantra except that Casey cant speak. She had lost her ability to speak. Her tongue definitely couldn't be the tongue of a ready writer. She is dumb. Forever. But she is a ready writer and I love her hope.

#wcn
#EA
By Black

-Admin
@WritersClub