A passionate being knows worth of their art, they don't crave validation they crave creation.

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  • blinking_lenity 2h

    A Tribute to Haworth projection. It's straight and clichéd.

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    Haworth: enclosures

    There's a gun placed above
    my head and
    the knives little below my throat,
    this race is reigning world,
    here I am yet to hold a cup of
    serendipity and
    fetch a vote on my own.

    The midnight is still
    unfathomable for how it wrap
    secrets of a dreamer and a sinner
    in the same plate,
    but I must admire its nakedness
    for how it stays dark when the
    world likes to be enlightened.

    I have been a penny of sunshine
    in the eye of lark, whose edges
    were smouldered because I chose
    to walk on my guts and not in a
    circular loop.

  • blinking_lenity 2d


    @writersnetwork much grateful ❤️

    @miraquill thank you for making my Mom's bday more special, she's the first home I belong to ❤️

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    Home is not a single entity,
    it's a whole universe etched in
    a monosyllabic word,
    it's a womb with the colour of
    daisies after rainfall that shelters
    my orphaned heart and
    bruised epidermis. It smells of
    dried mulberry leaves, more like
    seaweed and toasted sesame
    and I'm a solitary silkworm
    cocooned inside it's wind chimes,
    it radiates apricity from the lips,
    the windows are the open skies
    that blesses every forehead with
    a kiss filled of warmth and
    affection. It's a touch, so gentle,
    that they tell in the tale of Jane
    Austen's novels.

    Home is a metaphor,
    it's a patchwork of seared twigs
    and rotten fuchsias for larks
    whereas its voice is swift rustle
    of autumn leaves and rose petals,
    it's a person who lends me a
    hand out of black holes in which
    I've been renting lately.
    It keeps nostalgia buried under
    wooden frames until the cobwebs
    block sunlight and wrap those
    cold memories into gossamers.
    Home is a barren land imbued
    with dessicated soil of infertile
    and some days when the rivers
    within me flow like the clappers
    I see my home as a fertile land
    and my roots wrap around it,
    to bloom into a four leaf clover.
    And when my bruised epidermis
    is healed into a fully grown flower
    I give my home a single entity.

  • blinking_lenity 9w

    You're in love when
    a single gaze shiver down your
    spine and the goosebumps on
    your skin gets written in braille,
    that none is sought to understand
    but your blind heart does and a
    single touch freeze your soul &
    lets your heart melt.

    You're in love when
    you start drinking promises in
    a wine glass and your teary eyes
    start dreaming about lighting
    warmth in winters that keeps love
    aflame, you both lick each others
    wounds with chapped lips to put
    healing in a winsome frame.

    You're in love when
    the beats on your heart flows
    like rivers along valleys which are
    afraid to kiss the ocean yet,
    there's a longing for the language
    from which two tongues are set
    apart like the scriptures of destiny
    engraved on our palms and

    You're in love when
    you don't pluck roses but grow
    them in between your smiles
    so that each time you both press
    lips a rose could bloom making
    you chant a prayer for your beloved,
    and you walk like an incomplete
    poetry awaiting for a perfect end
    to grasp those fingers while
    tracing back lovelorn sonnets of

    I'm afraid to put #love in words because it has no bounds.

    @salted_peanuts thanks for asking me to write :)

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    Even if the heart flutters as wind
    and dance like butterflies,
    Love still feels realistic
    amidst all forevers and out of all goodbyes.

  • blinking_lenity 11w

    I have been growing hope in
    your backyard, to raise unsaid
    fantasies from your invisible
    cloak, not to let them wither
    into hallucinating nightmares
    this time, but to bloom them
    into clovers of freshly scented
    dreams flourishing betwixt
    eyes impregnated of sateen.

    I have been painting hope on
    the sky, for days when our
    hearts like paper planes crash
    and sink into another caramel
    mead. So that clouds draw wings
    on them of each fallen leaf to
    let our love fly as the splintered
    scarlet dewdrops settle over
    some bosky weeds.

    I have been pressing hope in
    your dust-filled journals to
    liberate torment out of wilted
    roses and star-crossed poesies
    whom you rented once amidst
    blank pages sans any affection.
    They are crawling like spiders
    around cobwebbed garth
    breathing hope as an elixir of


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  • blinking_lenity 11w

    At fussed morning when
    dawn breaks, a bird flies,
    flutters its wings and by
    evening a flight she takes.
    At the end of night when
    dawn breaks, no rooster flaps
    treason, maybe patriarchy is
    yet to lay its feet on sky.
    Soon a flight she takes
    and another dawn breaks.

    When the years blow and
    the folklores are pinned under
    dense canopy, traditions are
    drifting yet kept for singing
    songs of revolutionary melody.
    On the trapped streets,
    she ignites reigning and
    freed bars for a change.
    On the caged horizons,
    she keeps flying and break
    limits for another change.

    From the grave of revolution
    and the cracks of change,
    I see a belligerent sun rising.
    From the flames of agony
    and the raging ashes, this time
    I see a valiant phoenix rising.

    Perhaps an #epistrophe

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  • blinking_lenity 11w

    Catch those falling leaves in
    your palms and walk through
    the passage of dawn, nights
    are broken they will sip your
    dreams put them in caffeinated
    cups and fetch up your beams.

    Curl up a wave over your
    shoulders of floating reveries,
    burn chaos along with calories.
    Days are mundane they'll pass
    in a blink, blow Confetti's to life
    when perseverance winks.

    Stop at the red light, lend
    blossoms and water roots
    that stood fragile on dried soil.
    Restrain fears to shorelines,
    the shore is all yours to measure
    depth and height on same scale
    that is voile.

    Brew maits and fill platter with
    aroma of your mother's recipe
    when sun is replaced by moon.
    Twilight's are nostalgic,
    they'll stitch memories on stars,
    put lights off and sing lullaby to
    your scars for next dawn has to
    be arrived soon.

    These are the things I want you and me #todo

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  • blinking_lenity 11w

    Oops this exceeded to four lines

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    Frescoed verdant breezing fields
    dropping falcons betwixt surge,
    golden gossamer hoarding rustle
    liberating viriscence into words.

  • blinking_lenity 13w

    It's my nineteenth October
    an epoch spent over aeons by
    me: a teenage girl who may
    look ordinary but in the most
    rational way, a vintage soul
    mismatched with this colourful
    world, rejuvenating overseas.

    Thousand times in a mirror,
    thousand times on azure lake,
    I've convoluted chaos and
    insanity that lurks to storm up.

    A child of June - I am, no the
    flora of all seasons, but deep
    within I'm raining ephemeral
    tears unlike the cascade
    dripping eternally, every year.

    Autumn may live, trees may
    stand but I was the maple leaf
    odd one out always, I'm still,
    which won't resurrect unlike
    the drowning sun over horizon.

    Moon, being naked, will prevail
    but I'll be scratched to reality
    even if I'm layered with synthetic
    of enduring and pragmatic wars.

    From pristine bliss of childhood
    to hardcore pastels of adulthood,
    from one season to another,
    there's a beauty in change that
    smells for one more decade.

    Our lives are transient like
    those wretched minds falsifying
    faith in poets while abandoning
    the epiphany of poetries but
    our existence is abstract the
    way nature transpire it's virtues
    and significance for centuries.


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  • blinking_lenity 13w

    #combination new here :)

    Broken crayons in my bag

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    Sane season

    Mellow whispers softly shaking
    Life lessons leaking Lenity
    Blue bring joy into contentions
    For sky filled love into rainbows
    Freedom i preach Through breeze
    Broken crayons in my bag i carry,
    More colours for world and less for me
    Shady smile somehow grows slowly
    And i combine sanity in springs
    Seasons move away in haste
    But springs hold my veins in peace
    For here i lay my conscious free
    And heart beats pounding for her
    Who loves me truly.