#survivingc

11 posts
  • nocturnal_enigma 10w

    * 5.11.2021; 3.29 P.M (Malaysia)

    * For: My #crush #AHBA

    * 777th post ��

    #survivingc @writersbay #surviving #challenge

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    -ving ~

    I'm a survivor of this harsh world; Surviving.
    I'm a lover, who love you, so much; Loving.
    I'm on an endeavor of true-love; Endeavoring.
    I'm on a path of life. God's believer; Believing.

    © Nuruliffa Emirah
    @ nocturnal_enigma

  • bellemoon99 11w

    #Survivingc

    Yes, I'm still alive.
    My heart beats, my eyes sting
    My dreams curled up and died
    While my fears grow wings and fly

    Physical pain can be a cause of pleasure
    It distracts you from the bleeding hooks inside
    I feel like I should give into the pressure
    Melting away in a pool of my pain

    Tomorrow will be better
    My rain calls for the sun of yesterday
    I still bear hope for the breaking dawn
    Surviving is harsh, but it's worth it

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    To survive

    ©bellemoon99

  • penelope_ 11w

    We are not born at the risk of humans.

  • halcyon_sparrow 11w

    Dense sentiments flow through my veins
    Like snake poison enters in me
    Makes me suffer in the pity sea
    I stand alone in the wholesale market of grief
    And stand amazed by seeing folks buying cheap pain
    I often buy a maroon sorrow balloon from there
    And walk away into a web of solace
    Then I drink a cup of coffee
    That's what surviving is to me.
    ©sacrilegious_sparrow

  • pallavi4 11w

    Survival

    I was lost in the midst of a turbulent storm
    Caused by you, struggling to keep afloat
    Thrashed side to side by treacherous winds
    I barely clung to the edge of my boat

    I held on in hopes of being being saved one day
    Of finding calm waters in the bosom of the constant uproar
    The lesser you paid heed to my pain
    I awaited your undivided attention even more

    The upheaval and turbulence forever kept me
    In a state of panic and perpetual fear
    I found happiness in the bits you threw at me
    Swallowing my pride, my exigencies, my tears

    It took me a decade of being alone at sea
    Never once seeing a glimmer of sunshine
    What I’d thought was only my own, I realised
    Had never actually, in reality ever been mine

    The more I clutched at the water in my hands
    The more it rushed away from me
    I was left humiliated, my existence denied
    Embarrassed for all to publicly see

    Do you call such perseverance survival ?
    One that leaves one’s soul bare and sore?
    The abasement when you’re made a laughing stock
    Leaving you mentally anguished galore ?

    Yes I endured the violent typhoons you caused
    Yes I overcame, outlived and resisted
    Weathering it all, never heeding my wounds
    I suffered silently but I continually persisted

    And I survived !

    @pallavi4

    1st of November, 2021

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner-“Storm” by Ksenya Knysh

    #survivingc #survival #love_gone_sour #love_poems #love #writersbay @writersbay @writersnetwork #miraquill #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

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  • nirvanabharga0 11w

    Happy reading❤ ��

    @writersbay Thank you for the❤
    @writersnetwork Thank you for the ❤ n knind repost.


    //Survivors are the warrior souls//

    Surviving through the beguiling dismal maelstrom of sentimentality,
    of conditionally patterned moiré existentiality,
    a saccharine soul’s overwhelming propensity
    enigmatically exudes as the majesty of subliminal magnanimity.

    ©nirvanabharga0

    #chastushka #survivingc #wod #pod @miraquill @writersnetwork @writersbay #writersnetwork #shewrites #poetry

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    Surviving through the beguiling dismal maelstrom of sentimentality,
    of conditionally patterned moiré existentiality,
    a saccharine soul’s overwhelming propensity
    enigmatically exudes as the majesty of subliminal magnanimity.

    ©nirvanabharga0

  • sproutedseeds 11w

    Surviving

    Every morning I wake up with hope
    to survive and prove with the given scope.

    Responsibilities are many
    Young to old at home is my agony.

    Each and everyone are attention seekers
    only making me weaker and weaker.

    ©sproutedseeds
    01.11.21

  • mahtobpensdown 11w

    Moments

    Small cute talks, moments of apprehension
    What will happen, chaos amongst tension
    Two souls union, unknown strangers
    Longing for Love, marriage- a new adventure
    Entwined togetherness as if long last friends
    The lovely union was planned by God, their beloved friend!
    ©mahtobpensdown

  • love_whispererr 11w

    AFTERGLOW


    Have you ever seen the vintage jhumka of your grandmother which was presented by her husband when they went to watch a film for the first time ? That earring paints more poetries and limns many blushes on her wrinkled cheeks after sixty one years too. Walk away with those colours to daub the faded facade of your verse. That colour will never melt away from your ghazals.


    Have you ever watched the romance of a newlywed secretly which is more frisky inside the kitchen and store room ? Those flickers of her eyes create more beauty than the unclouded nights and clouded darkness. Bind that euphoria in a sumptuous sonnet and grow old with their innocence and sensitiveness.


    Have you ever tasted the everyday struggle of a pregnant lady while riding the staircase and sitting on a mat ? Still she waits, she smiles, she breathes. She caresses her big stomach and the new hope inside her womb. Scribble down that lavender of hope inside your soliloquies. That hope will never disappoint your metaphors.


    Have you ever heard the blares of a sea standing near the seashore ? From the navel of the azure welkin how those water gulps the horizon without hurrying and halts near your sandcastle to tear down that agile indolence. Brew that virtue inside the chalice of your penumbra to taste the perfection of a blank verse.


    Have you ever swallowed the August raindrops while standing under the sky and relish those water drops ? That treads towards the soul as the crow flies. Behead that gloominess from your clavicle and wear the corsage of fermented happiness and pull down some improbable existence of monsters. Hold those wreaths of orchids together with your heavenward elegies.


    Not only darkness can give birth to poetry
    exuberance is also hungry
    to sketch its adroit victory.


    ✿ Bidya

    #chastushka #wod #survivingc

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    Not only darkness can give birth to poetry
    exuberance is also hungry to sketch its adroit victory.

  • writersbay 11w

    Write about surviving. What it's like to you?

    Tag and share with #survivingc

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    Surviving is never beautiful,
    it’s not heroic like they tell you in fairytales or movies.
    It’s dirty,
    it’s tears streaming down your face and sobbing in a dark corner.
    It’s blood on your hands and in your face,
    it’s fear and feeling numb at the same time.
    You don’t preen yourself for being a survivor, you lull yourself to sleep with stories of a life where you have never been forced to fight in the first place.

    – AH

  • jlaine 11w

    The Daisies at My Bedside

    Do not look at me!
    For your creamy rays, they thieve my thunder,
    The still I've fought against for far too long I now have come to savor,
    For these naked walls, they applaud me as I bide unfazed by those once poignant memories,
    So no, I do not wish to relinquish my gains for some ephemeral pleasure,
    For your hypnotic whorl does not intrigue me,
    Or this room, for that matter, which I've tended so well,
    Comprised of only its barest essentials - a single bed, a task lamp, a well-worn chair, a pair of pillows (one for my lower back), and a writing desk, employed for those uniquely special occasions,
    For this symbiosis, it suits me well, neither stirring nor scathing the other, an added bonus, if you ask me,
    But for you, O you, I will never cease to avert my eyes,
    For you do not warrant an iota of my attention,
    As you too will wane, just as the others,
    And though I may take note, if only for a moment, of the malodorous redolence tugging at my nose hairs,
    It is then I will toss you out for the sham that you are, whom I've always known you to be,
    For beauty never bides past the honeymoon stage,
    So why make the time to permit it?

    ©jlaine