1109 posts
  • skrishr 4d

    Recurring Nightmares, Sleep Paralysis, Apnea may sound inane and silly. But such experiences could be downright demonic.

    And thus, they sit at the center of my next abstract.

    Do lmk your feedback! Thanks for reading.

    @miraquill @writersnetwork

    #poetry #abstract #writersnetwork #nightmares #selfhelp #musings #sleep #heartbreak #poem #love

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    Nightmares, Sleep Apnea, Sleep Paralysis

    Heeding to
    The whispers
    I cozy up
    In the embrace
    Of Hypnos

    As he tip-toes
    Across the
    Leaving flecks
    Of Grey-matter

    An ethereal
    Trance: A curse,
    Manifesting the
    Cthulhu Mythos

    Conjuring up
    An ephemeral
    Haunted by
    A poised

    I clamber up
    To a colossal
    Cliff’s atop-
    Beyond the skies
    To comprehend
    The cesspool’s guise

    Unbeknownst to
    My own sense
    Ascending to
    A Reality:
    So distorted
    Yet so Immense

    Holding onto
    My breath
    As if
    It were my last

    I plunge
    Into the whites
    Of Clouds
    With terror
    Oozing out of
    My existence aghast

    Staring down
    Into the face
    Of Oblivion with
    Eyes deep-set

    Beads of
    Roll up across
    My visage,
    A silhouette

    The onset-
    An unforgiving
    Vacillating between
    Dilation and dispersion

    The fourth-
    A valiant
    Descension being
    The residuum

    Slivers of Clouds
    Into spectrums
    of Prismatic hues

    As I free-fall
    Into the Void,
    Bustling my
    Memory Lanes

    With sweet and sour
    Souvenir stains
    The past,
    Rummaging into
    A chaos

    Mutating me
    Coercing my
    Eyes open out
    Of an impasse

    Only to realise
    The condemnation
    Of being stuck
    In a
    Perpetual vortex

    Melding into
    The void
    The only
    Way out of
    The cortex.


  • north_star 3w

    Job of love

    If loving is a job,
    I can't do it; Can't stay professional
    Too emotional
    Vulnerable to eyes, Open mind
    Measurements at fault
    Sugarless, bland spice
    Just my presence
    Idea of intimacy
    No touch, no pain
    Overwhelming gaze
    Basic wage, Clocking in
    Clocking out as I want
    Promoting, demoting
    Experience not worth
    A dime
    Superiority in endurance
    Heart beating slower every
    I see, what I'm supposed to be...

  • anthonymustoo 4w

    The Soul of A Dying Man

    Pain is a very difficult terrain
    It drives some people insane
    It goes by several names
    Wreaks havoc and derails a person
    Like a renegade train
    We've yet to have a better way to understand an experience that constraints our ability to think to find another way
    Experience is the only way to meet ideas
    Into our hands
    Habit becomes an unintended stain
    If you choose to refuse it it insists to not refrain reminding us of our skeleton it forms us
    Thoughts seemingly misplaced
    I trace and I trace but I cannot find a safe place
    I guess I must meditate and push forth with some form of human grace
    If such thing were to exist
    I'd take it in place of confusion
    Intrusions of thoughts that never show their face
    Feeling without emotion
    Is void of love
    There's no water
    Then there's no ocean
    It offers nothing to exchange for it's limitation deathless repudiation
    Life imitates art
    Art knows no resignation
    You'll have mysticism and subjectivity to feel like you can understand
    But objectionable truth
    Is the only root to make our own salvation


  • theintrepidwriter 5w


    I walked across the entire field,
    To meet a keeper at the other end.

    Asked for my pass to proceed,
    Only to receive a firm nod of denial.

    Pointing towards the other end,
    the keeper motioned to move.

    Hanging my head in defeat,
    I walked across the entire field.


  • anthonymustoo 5w

    Identifying Traces

    The soul of a dying man
    Chokes my body's engine
    Trying to find work
    My body struggles to juggle life's demand
    I analyze what it is that shortens my lifespan
    Has death ensnared me in it's dance
    The shadowy snakes shifting sands
    Promising nothing I can trust
    I wave mysticism away
    And I reshuffle my hand
    What makes a man?
    A question that begs an answer
    Clashing with my need to understand

    Can I separate the truth from subjective things
    Can I investigate my life without nostalgia
    Fogging up my lens
    Euphoria is shortlived and happiness is the means to my end
    I lost my heart
    In my resurrection I swore to be liberated from the constraints that obliterated my sense of self
    That initiated a self programmed death
    I changed it all in the span of the only breath I had left in time to find my purpose

    I aim to be honest, balanced, and independent
    I am meeting my own expectations where it meets obstacles and I will be more than just traces
    Sad faces of people I lost
    I'll live their lives with a sharp indignation
    My truth is my only liberation
    I stick to it with an unparalleled degree of dedication

  • kachii 5w

    Endless, was what I thought time would be with us.
    Love boxed in perfection, love kept in loop 'til life's made me sense an old timer victim in a whore house.
    Took the truth, I was meeting life's fare instead otherwise, I fell out of love.
    I didn't indeed live life as much as it left me when I learned over excitement was less beautiful than love's feel.
    Couple of months I lived in discomfort, lived in nirvana without network.
    Déjà vu; it's happening again.


  • curiouskavi 8w

    Art - Devoid Boundaries

    If there is anything
    like a limit to art,
    It would defy
    Art's own essence,
    for art is liquid,
    an ether of ever transcending permeability,
    though I am unaware
    where shall its purpose art,
    should it provide a solid ground to stand,
    Or is it best to let it loose
    abscent the tethers


  • omkar_ranveerkar 13w


    Although we accept that to err is human, we don't give ourselves that liberty. It is becoming extremely hard to accept that we are not and can never be ideal. The horror. We do claim our fair share to the rebellion with science but are our principles the only pillars in our growth? They became malleable long ago within us. Is art also a subtle form of being not perfect? If so, resonating with it makes us feel alive and yet we don't grant ourselves freedom from being the best version. We can be abstract. At least some of us if not most.

  • skydoodle 14w

    Abstract of happiness

    Abstract,What's abstract?
    Abstract is a piece of art.
    Art, what's art?
    Art is a living piece of mind.
    Mind, what's got into you?
    Distraction !

    Can't ask distraction what's u!
    Everything you see is me

  • writeweird 18w

    heartbreak at 27

    wait, in your sleep,
    don't let them take you away
    before we meet

    for one last time then
    you can leave

    while you rest let me dress
    in a funeral morning

    stay with me until i
    forget how to breathe

    how to sing, how to speak
    for i'm nothing without you

    for all i ever did was to
    bleed dry for you

    in the cold afternoons
    to seethe jealously

    standing by your doors i
    keep watch helplessly

    to burn for all yours wants
    for all your needs

    that feed my desire
    to be warm

    filled with thoughts
    and dead seeds

    frolicking in your arms
    forever on repeat

    day after day
    into a dying forest

    that knows not what
    is grief

    sheltered by the moon
    many a lover seek,

    dying too soon.


  • darthgaaru 20w

    The human race, even if for a fleeting moment, has its immortal place in the vastness in this cosmos. Where you ask? In the eternal light Of the Moon and the Sun


    #life #humanity #abstract #thoughts

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    Of the Moon and the Sun

    Beyond any of our vision,
    Stronger than any physical sensation,
    Sweeter than every single scent,
    And all the tastes we can’t comprehend,
    Past all the things we love and hate,
    And all the ideas that we debate,
    Through all the white lies,
    And the half-baked truths,
    Through every testing time,
    That we’ve all been through,
    Beyond every cigarette smoked,
    After nights spent in the throes of love,
    And every lonely soul,
    Who sat up and gazed at the stars above,
    Past all the seas that were ever sailed,
    Or every time we ever took flight,
    Past every queen and king that was ever hailed,
    And all the armies that fought their fights,
    For every mother, every father,
    For every brother, every sister,
    For every single stranger,
    For every friend and foe,
    And everyone that we will ever know,
    Our race shall always exist in the eternal light,
    Of the Moon and the Sun,
    And even if for just a blink of an eye,
    Dance to our incomprehensible cosmic tune, as one.

  • writeweird 22w

    A starry night in the uncanny valley

    lights in the sky fighting,
    somewhere somebody's trying
    to put out the fire

    with bare hands and dying
    breaths, in ways no one could
    ever understand before

    there's more to a painting
    when you know how it ends

    every stroke made in haste
    and for no one else

    where the world is made and
    broken down for someone else

    there must be more than life
    if we could see into the distance

    more than just colours trying
    to seduce the mountains

    the rivers that run and hide
    from the preying atlas

    deep into the forests helm
    where the naked hide

    rains that fill the oceans
    before it's time

    swallowing the sunsets deep
    into its hallowed grave

    where gouls fall in love with
    wandering mermaids

    how beautiful you must be
    to reject the gods?

    the very essence of what
    it takes to beat a heart

    is captured now in still water
    and cascading waves

    perhaps one day we could
    swim carefree

    into the same approaching
    melancholy that has made a home
    inside the swirling storms

    the very winds that travel back
    and forth across this planet

    dwelling into nothingness and
    so far away from everything else

    maybe home isn't what keeps
    us from the outside --

    it is us playing make belief
    on the porch

    guarded by salt walls and lashing

    the horrid stain on every artist's

    made in spirit of the restless and
    the tormented

    scattered words and memories
    wrestling with dreams and thoughts

    he who cannot speak might scream
    the loudest

    never judge a book by it's cover
    even if it's on fire.


  • writeweird 26w

    I love Charlie Kaufman, my twitter name is dedicated to him, and so is this poem. i hope you enjoy it.

    @mirakee @writersnetwork @readwriteunite
    #writersnetwork #movie #film #poetry #poem
    #dark #fantasy #abstract #other #dark #love

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    Charlie Kaufman

    somedays I'm more scared
    than the others

    more susceptible to the
    diseases of the mind

    that lay their bare hands
    on my chest and

    weave it down

    hammer on the uncertainty
    of the coming morning

    meld the steel that dangles
    from the ceiling

    waiting to pounce at any
    unsuspecting moment of
    failure and dread

    in the dead of the night
    when the sun awakens

    and ever so suddenly
    the moon bursts into flames

    all the stars falling in a
    fiery ball of madness

    circling the streets sniffing
    at the despair that haunts the
    dreams of crying children

    lost to the dark alleys and
    smoke, and powder

    perching on the threads of
    looming crisis of faith and
    all things miserable

    the melancholy of which is
    lost on the swaying trees and
    the singing birds

    the lonely man living up
    in the mountains has no inkling
    of the cascading apocalypse

    that is all over the news in
    small fine words while an angry
    man screams at people for
    not paying attention to what he's

    over and over again until
    it's time to show the magic
    of make belief

    only if magic was a real thing
    so many things would have been

    the world would be a different
    place albeit a similar one

    the kind that lives in your
    head and prospers in your mind

    the kind Charlie Kaufman
    knows about.


  • writeweird 26w

    Skin deep (Morning Prayer)

    underneath the skin
    fish swim in circles

    & all the words I've kept
    have turned to Ash and
    I've been keeping to myself

    behind these four walls
    there's no ceiling to climb
    & my head won't stop bleeding

    there are no feelings
    in my piggy-bank

    I've used all the change
    and I'm still the same

    every morning I wake up
    thinking about you

    & the life we could've
    had, the life I could've had

    but I couldn't do it to you
    couldn't do it for you

    maybe I deserve nothing
    & that's why I keep myself
    from jumping over the fence

    & running away forever
    into the sunset


  • ciara1 27w

    The Flower I like

    You are a seedling sunshine,
    The first time that I saw you, I took root from that place of heaven.
    I chose you because you are perfect in size and in delicancy.

    He's always busy as you are.
    I can't take my eyes off of you, just like I can't even take my eyes off a woman when she passes by me. I love women as much as I love you my beautiful flower.

    A woman of bisexual tendencies to have.
    I made plans. You will be mine.

    The day when my boyfriend accepted me as a bisexual
    woman of many sexual desire.
    That's when I knew that he was the one, and still is the one.
    He is okay with bringing a woman inside the relationship.
    "Come with me", I said.
    Think no more of that miser,
    I promise to treat you right. Let's have a threesome," I said.

    You were reluctant,
    No need to be hesitant.
    You deserve much more,
    Used my hand as a shovel.
    From now on I'll nurture you. I will fuck you good.

    Take a good long rest.
    I'll give whatever you want.
    Soon you'll be in bloom my delicate flower.
    I won't let you be thirsty,
    I'll give you warmth and shelter.

    Shower you with comfort.
    Love is subjective.
    I believe in unconditional love.
    I'll never let you wither.
    You are my flower if life.
    With your eyes see your true self.
    How beautiful you have become my precious dove.
    © All Rights Reserved

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    The Flower I like

  • kushagra_2345 35w

    Having somany feelings for one person can kill you daily #pod #writers #rain #mirakee #2021 #sadtales #sad #abstract #storyofmylife #broken

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    जिनके दिलों में आंग है वोह घर से ना निकले,

    सुना है बोहोत ज़ोर की बारिश होने वाली है .


  • _teal_ 37w


    I hated another woman,
    I broke my moral code
    But isn't hate a result
    Of betrayal and hurt?
    So hate or no hate?


  • lucy08 37w

    **This piece is close to my heart.
    It's dedicated to my Granny, whom I lost during my college days. Her gold ring she gifted me on my board-results day, my most prized possession it will always stay!!**

    Grandma's Ring

    I watch as it reflects
    gleams of golden pride,
    from across your wrinkled eyes
    as you stare from paradise
    & notice me doing more than just fine.

    @writersnetwork @miraquill @mirakeeworld @readwriteunite #abstract #pride #gold_ring #jewellery #ceesreposts #gogyohka #wod

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    Grandma's Ring

    I watch as it reflects
    gleams of golden pride,
    from across your wrinkled eyes
    as you stare from paradise
    & notice me doing more than just fine.

  • nemesis_here 37w


    I've seen this before
    Saw this coming ab ovo
    Though enigmatic
    It heightens my intuitive power
    This eerie feeling of déjà-vu.


  • nemesis_here 37w

    A Juncture

    What is it like to
    be in a place
    where your Alchemy has concluded
    Your Chemistry will soon commence?