Miraquill
Sad ..
Like a rose that bloomed among daisies,
Like the mother who misses her dead child,
Like a devotee who cried for god's mercy,
Like a lady who left herself behind...
©aachiram
aachiram
www.instagram.com/p/CBsTwr1J69p/?igshid=bvni0bn89t4w
neither a crazy writer nor a nerd, I'm just AMBITCHIOUS to write about things in my realm
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-
aachiram
12w
-
aachiram
13w
I'm proud of you.
©aachiram -
aachiram
28w
The red rose ..
The night was warm, We were in chaos,
My soul felt some sparks, When I gave you my red rose,
I looked in the mirror, She was blushing,
The red rose was drizzled, With water of her spirit ..
How can I not remember it...?
That excitement,
Those chaos,
When I handed you my red rose ....
©aachiram -
aachiram
29w
I tried writing about my happiness and peace..
And ended up writing about you....
( ꈍᴗꈍ)
©aachiram -
aachiram
45w
Not free for materials,,
I'm hellã stuck in between reality and the process of converting dreams into reality.. (๑˃̵ ᴗ ˂̵)و
©aachiram -
aachiram
45w
Read More
Can you just come here and hold my hand?
Till the night goes off,
Till I suffer,
Till the sunshine comes up,
Till the days go better...
I can afford to grind inside
But I can't afford to lose you..
#love #him #us
@writersnetworkI know
It's unknowingly hardest time for me,
I don't say much,
I worry, I can't sleep,
I keep on grinding inside,
I talk to none,
I'm minding my business just too much,
I'm afraid,
Of losing me,
Losing the game,
Losing you,
But trust me,
I want you to hold my hand,
And say nothing,
Just sit in the silence,
And listen my heart beat....
©aachiram -
aachiram
46w
Read More
Its just like that darkest cloud,
After most living sunshine.
I miss all the moments we had a second ago,
Wanna play again,
Without the judgements,
without the flaws,
I was laughing so hard,
But that felt like just a second,
Wanna stay there,
Wanna stop the time,
That laughter took me out,
From the bottom of grief,
From the course of darkness,
Never wanted to say that goodbye,.
Never wanted to see you go,
I wish I couldn't pay my peace,
For this joy,
I fell in love with your soul,
But now I hate mine,
Don't know why but when you left,
I felt that a child cried,
For you to come back,
Stay a lil more,
Laugh a bit more..
Apart from my highly disciplined side,
Yeah I felt a heartache..
When you said, see ya later.Deep inside,
I had felt ache in my chest,
Just like a broken heart suffers to pump.
©aachiram -
aachiram
49w
Read More
My colors reside in his eyes,
Those shades of vibrance,
Take me to my soft place,
But he's colder than frozen ice,
That reminds me to stay rigid, at the same time ...
I wish I could look in those eyes,
Where autumn and winter fight with each other,
And that deepens a bond
which was born from us,
And kiss your forehead,
And my nose play with yours..
Just don't ask me why I'm lost,
I'm just, in the thoughts of something,
Anonymously special...,
Here's my haiku ����
#autumn #wod #mirakee
#him #eyes #love
#wind #soul #breeze #us
@writersnetworkMy autumn
Resides in his cold eyes,
They look at my face and tickle me,
Like breeze tickles the soul....
©aachiram -
aachiram
49w
Cosmos
Is inevitable, in all senses,
And humanity is a part of it .
©aachiram -
aachiram
49w
Small happiness
Those conversations where we talk like professionals, best friends and lovers at the same time ...
©aachiram
-
Red rose is the symbol of love,
that makes a sense of worthiness
It reminds you more details about love
where she has suppressed the
fragrances of romance beside forever
©bemyheartless_love -
artistano1
32w
Read MoreShe looked a little sad
in that dress.
In that dying summer.
It's like she loves me
for the last time.
Art died in the paintings
in which she fastens her bra.
My skeleton is rotten.
Collor. Column. Corona.
Under infrared rays,
the Moon is plump,
airy and accurate
in its appearance at celestial parties.
We have started
to unknowning each other.
But flashes and dreams come by habit.
We have joy and fun
in that past life.
The cobweb grabbed the door
which was closed in one direction.
After she left,
my palms plowed more
than when I started my circle.
Circles. Plows. Pillows.
Under infrared rays,
the night is dark,
and poetry stalks me
on this celestial party.
Just me and the mirror.
Show must go on.
I'm just an artist in circus.
What's wrong with circuses?
- At least I can walk on the wire
and stumble ... and fall ... and...
It'll be part of my show,
the kids will laugh.
Everyone laughs in the circus.
- I'm crying.
Circus. Citrus. Cycles.
Under infrared rays,
this town is empty place,
and stray dogs bark
to their celestial bones.
The motive is the same
for kill and locking the door since you left.
Five years later
there was a parade
of charged gay particles in the city.
I paraded among the bookshelves.
The letters shone under the lamp,
words fell from the sky,
sky created us,
we created books,
books created shelves.
And the circle closes there.
Round. Scream. Click.
Under infrared rays,
your face haunting me in the mirror,
and our roles dancing
on this celestial show.
But I still laugh.
It was Sunday.
I was at the cemetery.
And it wasn't black as I imagined.
I was happy to feel sad.
I fastens her bra in letters on the paper.
I was standing on the moon
trying to touch the sky...
- Don't let someone...
- Don't let anyone.
Artist. Atheist. Arthritis.
Under infrared rays,
the moon is plump,
we are just a stain of wine,
in this celestial life
but i'm yours and you are mine.
by
Artistano1
#genuine_readers
@miraquill
@writersnetwork
#artistaInfrared rays
-
miraquill
28w
Read More--
Story writing
--
#writingcontest #contest #creativearena
Head to Creative Arena to participate in this writing contest and win a trophy!Story writing
Tap into your imagination, participate in this exciting contest and win a trophy to climb a step up on the creativity ladder.
--End a story with the sentence:--
"I still wait for him in silence but deep down I know that he shall never return" -
antici
29w
Read MoreAn original of anticipoetry #stars #love
#poetry #poet #writing #inspiration #open #antici #follow#inspiration #life
Follow @antici on @mirakeeapp
Follow @anticipoetry on Instagram
#mirakee #poems #poetry #writersnetwork #quotes #quote #writersofinstagram #stories #ttt #quoteoftheday #writersofig #writersofmirakee #wordporn #writing #writer #inspiration #life #poetry #thoughts #diary #love #touch #love #life #inspiration #friendship #thoughts #poetry #love #life #inspiration #friendship #thoughts #poetryI realized God was ignoring my prayers because he'd already answered them.
In my pain, I found peace.
In my weakness, I found strength.
In my anger, I found tranquility.
In my jealousy and entitlement, I found forgiveness and acceptance.
In losing others, I found myself.
You have to be just as thankful for the bad to appreciate the good.
©antici -
shreyanarayan
28w
I WILL NOT DREAM
A BROKEN DREAM...I am going to leave
a piece of me behind
I am going to give in
I am gonna fall
back into the line,
And not try to stand tall.
I will not keep on dreaming
of a broken dream
So far away removed
from reality,
I am going to love
my real life for once
And not gonna cry
over my mundane mediocrity.
I will stop complaining
I will stop my cry
I will stop for once and for all
and will not defy.
Because I guess
that's what I am expected to do
That's all that they could accept.
For a woman who can dream
another broken dream
makes them nothing but inept.
©shreyanarayan -
_chrysanthemum_
28w
ambivalence
noun
i. the state of having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas about something or someone
ii. anxiety and depression fight for control (over me). They're both mental illnesses, I know, and yet they both want different things from me. Anxiety screams out of horror, it sees the monsters that hide under my bed, it wants to warn me before it's too late. My head spins out of orbit trying to duck from the danger that flies towards me from every direction. Anxiety sees it and tells me to duck, turn left, turn right, avoid it, run. Escape. The problem is, anxiety tells me to do that even when there's nothing and no one around. Even when I'm safe. because, no, I'm never safe according to anxiety, and my rationality reasons with me, tells me it's irrational. But it's hard not to listen to anxiety when it's so damn loud. Why is it always so loud? So eager for me to listen to it? Why does it want to keep me safe so desperately? Most importantly, why does it think I deserve to be safe? That's depression talking, I know. Depression is quieter. It lingers in dark corners, waits to come out only when I'm at my lowest. Depression doesn't scream. It does not yell. It whispers. The whispers send shivers down my back and my hair stands on edge. The words that come out are stronger. They are deadly. I know this because I've encountered their intensity before. Depression's consistent visits are unwelcomed by anxiety, it screams for depression to go away because depression is against everything anxiety stands for, and yet, depression is never scared of anxiety. It never backs down because of anxiety's screams, in fact, it seems to be fueled by them. Depression feeds on anxiety's fear, anxiety's emotions. It grows bigger, stronger. Anxiety is impulsive, doesn't think things through, always wanting to hide, always wanting to run, no matter the situation. While depression is careful. Depression watches and listens and waits for the exact moment it needs to strike. And when it does, it does precisely. Its targets never make it out alive. This is what makes depression so scary, since it knows me so well. I might as well not even try, since it knows me so well, this is for sure my end, even if I think the end is inevitable, it's still quite a fight that anxiety and depression put up. They both want to end me, but they disagree in the ways. You see, anxiety is scared of illness. Depression prays for one. Anxiety is scared of pills, depression tells me to take more than the prescribed dose. Anxiety is scared of guns and violence, depression describes just how the bullet would come out from the other side. Anxiety is scared of blood, depression feeds off its drips. Anxiety is scared of death, depression ignites the suicidal thoughts. Anxiety doesn't want me to live, depression wants me to die. Technically, there's no difference but also there is a big one. I don't know which is worse, which to listen to. Can't I have a way out somehow?
iii. Wanting to die but being scared of death, wanting to live but being scared of life.
iv. Wanting to die and live at the same time. Being scared of death and life at the same time.
©_chrysanthemum_ -
quagmire_
31w
Read MoreI don't want to write about love.
I try so hard not to think about love..
Or anything related to it..
But I guess I should have realised by now that love is something you just can't stop..
It's something you just can't get out of yourself..
If not that many heartbreaks would have made you hate the word love..
But no..
You don't..
You still watch those hopeless romantic movies..
Like they are real..
And you wish that the characters don't get their hearts broken..
You still cry like an idiot seeing some characters of some movies getting their hearts broken.
As if it were you in their place..
Love is something you'll Always be attracted to..
You may think you are not made for these stuffs..
But you're.
Their is a part of you hidden inside hoping that someone ,someday will finally love you back..
It's just that you're too scared to try getting loved back..
Because loving takes a lot..
Loving anyone takes a lot.
Doesn't matter if you love a sports team..
You'll be heartbroken..
No matter who you love.
You'll get your heart broken.
And you'll try and find reasons to hate love..
But you won't have any..
You never regret the things you did for love...
-
Suddenly
I was a
hunter
And
words
were
what
I hunted. -
finch_
33w
Read MoreSenselessness at its peak.
26/09/2021
I think . I write same thing again n again.I was 7
when
I wrote
Poetry
for the first time
I used to think
poetries are the 'written silence'
that screams after death
I'm 17
and I think
poetries are screams
written silently
on pages ,
on people ,
on hearts,
on graveyards,
And
on
silence
©finch_ -
Words are the underrated existence,
of all strong poems and stories
you and I , read and write.
