Miraquill
©the_dead_poetess
aasif_mirzaa
-
the_dead_poetess
82w
-
When you loved
The garden of my heart
Bloomed with flowers
------------------------------------
When you left
The garden of my heart
Became barren land
©inked_selenophile -
thesunshineloves
82w
Read MoreS o m e. W a y s. T o. G e t. P e r f e c t. L o v e.
Life is a destiny, with journey called fate, bonuses like cars or bikes called luck, on the ROAD(S) called LOVE, while trying to decode Kenshō, that is supercoiled in our DNA, that needs to be decoded, to be known. Not every spirit ends up dying. Some end up living. Living in ukiyo of dreamland or in latibule or after working on dreams and making them come true. We travel on the road with same amount of rocks (memories), same amount of flowers (milestones) and same amount of thorns (sacrifices). The fernweh of reaching love makes you forget that you need to reach life before death.
Dotage receives rocks, newborns and children receive flowers and matured humans, adults receive thorns mainly.
God lays these different ways for us to acknowledge them. Their use in our life is to get rid of destinesia. Once you reach your destiny, life disguised in death, you forget the roads and your choices. Sacrifices are choices. Pairing with others is a choice. Love is a road. Be grateful for birth and life.
The King and The Monk receive same roads. Monk knows to walk alone and clear the roads for others to walk without thorns. But the king, a bohemian, USES chariots, children, wife, his kingdom and his people, and wants only flowers forgetting he needs to take those thorns (difficulties, sacrifices and wars). A monk never complains or feels lonely on thorns. While it's the opposite for the King. Find what's real and what you need. Don't regret any choice and don't forget any promise you made. They were all made by a YOU.
Dead receive more easy way of love. They're ALONE. The ataraxia accompanies them. While the alive need to accompany the living to walk, some esoteric. Once you walk alone and join others, you can't leave them behind.
Some flowers don't need to be mentioned. Women and world encourage always. They give strength, they're the catharsis in every form of life, a daughter, a mom, a sister, a grandmother. The way every stage of "Seven Ages", you crawl in love, stand in love, walk in love and run in love. Women seem fragile and despicable to some. But that way, if you leave them behind, who's gonna take those thorns for you?
Every season gets some bonuses. Some winters get you warmth. Some summers get you relief. Some rains connect with your tears, get your epiphany back and some autumns remind of love, heartbreaks and conflicts. A saga of memories. Metanoia to get known with your fake and your real self. Find yourself.
Love ain't in the air. It's a path. You're a flaneur seeking solitude in company.
You need to be a spirit of heavens to seek company in solitude, a real traveller.
I T. H E L P S. !
© thesunshineloves
#mirakee #writersnetwork #pod #lettersc
Thanks a lot for the like @writersnetwork :')Don't regret or forget any choice or promise.
They were all made by a YOU.
©thesunshineloves -
We both were the only stars,
allowed to play on moon.
The only butterflies,
playing amidst the peonies.
The two fireflies,
at the night seashores.
©thesunshineloves -
suicidal
If you see her
laying,
on mattress
painfully,
If you see her
sinking,
on a pool a
sloppily,
If you see her
drinking booze
crazily,
If you see her
sleeping
on blood
brutally
don't ask,
why?
She is committed
to turmoil
chaos friend-zoned
her like a rosy
thread stitching
grey gown
endurance seems
a massive tale
forged to manipulate,
tangible truth
granting some
odds to preys
She wrangled from
dusk to dawn
beneath spring to
rainy monsoon
but eventually,
raw blade
worshipped
the mild strings
of her pale hand,
a frigid bed sheet
wrapped with
red blood
another victim of
brutal manias
ensued in the
name of suicide
©fairytales_ -
wild_aish
83w
Read MoreBg: ©wild_aish #mirakee #balcony_musings
{....and why do all these poets write only about the moon when it's the sun who's glow he steals?}
PS: no selenophiles were harmed in the writing of this post.You are one shameless lover
High on sea breeze
You come every evening; uninvited.
From teasing the tall palms
To flirting with my split ends,
If I could only look you in the eyes 'O sun
Would you know,
The way these hazel eyes
Desperately wait for you
To show up and
Make my pale walls, gleam in hues of
Goldens and orange,
Leaving a tint of sangria on my lips,
As you sink into the horizon,
Making love to the dusk...
~Aish -
insatiatesoul
83w
I am seduced
By my own tears
And I make love
To this eternal ache .
As I moan poetic words
From my broken soul
On a blank piece of paper
With my blue inked pen
A sob of satisfaction
Delights my heart ..
© pinky -
.
-
I
put
an end to
writing on you
the secret I revealed
in my poems have no more to keep
the rhymes where my words are dancing
have no more lyrics to sing, the verses which
somehow gives my poem a meaning,
are my strength to breath
A
metaphor
which always
holds on my emotions,
was always a serene feeling, the flawless
beauty of my poetry is a pure sensation.
The ink, the words the pages
I
have
written
about you
starts falling for you
feeling your essence in
each single word was like
a fruit of heaven and I can't
let em love you, cause whoever
starts feeling your presence
in your truancy too
©rumanrulesneverend
