324 posts
  • roshni31 10w

    @miraquill @writersnetwork
    #symbol #wod #pod
    Pen is the mightest
    It can be written brightest
    It can be written longest
    It can be written shortest
    It can be written depthness
    That pain
    That wound which has no sound
    That inexpressible woes which has no rows
    That anxiety which has no fraternity
    That pathetic plight which has no flight
    That grief which has no any chief
    Pen shows your test,✍✍����

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  • nocturnal_enigma 10w

    * 9.11.2021; 5.01 P.M (Malaysia)

    * For: My #crush #AHBA


    #symbol #wod @miraquill

    Red rose = Love & romance
    Four-leaf clover = Good luck & fortune
    Tree blossoms = Spring season
    Balloons = Hope & dreams

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    Untitle 87 ~

    I smell something with my nose.
    It has torns though. A red rose.
    I feel dizzy like I'm over-dose.
    It make me surrender. I lose.

    I found a four leaf clover.
    Forever, I love U. I'm a lover.
    In love, I'm a fool. Not clever.
    Fall into trap, as I pull the lever.

    Tree blossoms as it's spring season.
    I want to be free, out of the prison.
    I want to go there. You are the reason.
    Forgive me for harsh words; Poison.

    Baloons float. My hopes and dreams.
    Hope U & her is not what it seems.
    Well, let's us both eat ice-creams.
    Plus, boost each other's self-esteems.

    © Nuruliffa Emirah
    @ nocturnal_enigma

  • _firefly 11w

    When my fingers forget art, spring blooms
    bringing hopeful scents of daffodils,
    and the fragrant orbs floating in the air,
    heal all the wounds my heart carries.

    When roses outgrow the thorns, spring blooms
    painting plum serenity over the sunsets,
    and I steal the rainbows from the sky
    to paint colours over my bland soul.

    When humans forget humanity, spring blooms
    teaching lessons of patience through
    butterflies and fireflies, breaking out
    of their cocoons and eggs.

    When this poet forgets poetry, spring blooms
    embedding metaphors over pastel clouds
    and tree blossoms sprint with joy,
    bringing home crimson shades of love.

    ~ nature is a bliss and humans cannot even revert back one cent of what it does for us.


  • sundarcvc 11w


    Those big air filled candy like things,
    Everytime I see one,
    My inner child lights up and sings.
    Boy oh boy,the joy it brings.
    But the"mature guy"; in me always stings.
    "No more a kid,gotta do bigger things";
    Grown Up!! Sigh...
    I walked slowly to the nearby bench,
    Sat down and around I looked,
    People jogging,dogs playing,kids running
    When a sudden sound had me shook,
    Turned around and I see a kid with a sad look,
    Looks like his balloon has been busted,
    By other laughing kid with a small hook.
    Why,you look at that little prick!!
    Felt like teaching him a lesson with stick.

    And that's when it struck,
    The reason for me being stuck!
    The inner kid within me is very much alive,
    It's just that the inner prick version,
    Is making it difficult to thrive and survive.
    "You ain't a kid,Grow Up,That's difficult,
    To the family and friends you're an insult,
    Friends are getting it easy but I get no result.
    Cry is for weak,you're a strong adult.
    He's achieved so much,pff look at you.
    What was that,is that your best??
    HaHaHa,I think it's best you to just leave
    And leave it to the best,
    Cause seriously you ain't like the rest."
    And on and on and on,
    Hook after painfully sharp hooks,
    That prick,pricking on to burst my balloon.
    Or I should say balloons.
    Leaving me in a deep pit of blues.
    Where I sit and stare into the darkness
    And totally out of clues.

    I get up from the bench and bought a balloon,
    Gave it to the kid who felt sad and alone,
    But that was only untill I gave him,
    This air filled colorful delight,
    Make him jump with joy and surprise,
    But out of nowhere came this prick,
    Now with full of spite.
    Seeing an adult me with the kid,
    He ran away with Fright.
    I took that kid on a walk,
    She was so cute I just had to talk.
    So I ask her name,
    With all your her charm,
    And spring in her step,
    "My name is Sapna"
    And she asks mine,
    Imitating her spring in her step charm,
    She gives a cute smile,
    And I say my name is Sundar.
    I ask Sapna what's her Dream,
    She hugged her balloon tight,
    Without thinking for a second,
    Looked up with stars in her eyes,
    "I want to go to the moon one day"
    With a smile I thought
    It is a "Sundar Sapna"

    Wish it was easy to identify and
    All our pricks be only on the outside.
    Sadly both the prick with the hook,
    And kid with the balloon are with us inside.
    We prick our own balloons.
    Sure the prick is a master,
    Of many illusions and disguise.
    But it's upto us to protect the kid,
    Or leave the kid in the mercy,
    Of sharp hooks,letting the balloon be pricked.
    So you get to pick sides.
    Stand with the kid or take a painful,
    Balloon busting skid.

    P.S -

    Sundar - Beautiful
    Sapna - Dream
    ";Don't let anybody say you can't do something.Not even me.People can't do something themselves,they'll say you can't do.You've got a dream you've got to protect.You want something go get it,Period."

    Will Smith(Pursuit Of Happiness)


  • dinner 11w

    Don’t know what did I write but tried to attempt at the challenge . Hope it’s understandable.

    #Symbol#Wod # miraquill # writers network.@writers network @ miraquill

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    High up in the sky
    Gave wings to fly
    Sometimes scattered
    Sometimes shattered
    Like a jigsaw puzzle
    High up the balloons guzzle
    Some scary and some fiery
    Withered and tethered
    Some churned and buttered
    Hold the balloons tight
    To reach your goal hold tight
    Let’s soar the balloons high
    To spread our wings high


  • poetrycity 11w

    If you love me, I shall not fade.

    If you love me,
    then this sky would sparkle embedding dark poetries,
    moon would blush, sun would rise late,
    mountains would be broken, rivers would be warm
    winds would enchant beautiful past stories,
    decayed trees would blossom with a new hope,
    monsoon would remove scars, autumnal vibes would lit spring

    If you love me,
    sparrows would sing love melodies,
    roses in gardens would get red and drenched,
    forever ness would flutter at the windows,
    streets would sound peaceful silence,
    lavender would get sprouted in barren lands.

    If you love me,
    then I would be loved too.


  • wilmaneels1 11w

    I stumbled upon a display of hope and well wishes
    Decorated with strings and colorful balloons
    Promises hung in the air that night
    Smiles were all around
    I wanted to grab hold of all of them
    Just as a reminder when you forget
    So I took a photo instead
    Maybe when things appear hopeless
    The photo will remind you; that it's not

  • angeljohn 11w


    Four-leaf clover's neck's chopped, this day.
    The world depicts, a monstrous play;
    without a thought to have a fortunate-stay.
    Portray, do they, the inhumanity they enjoy.

    Slaughtering of Four-leaf clovers
    by uniting with the blood-poisonous.
    The richness they own, being injurious
    after snatching away poor lives.

    The voiceless spirits been killed.
    Once earned, flour-leaf clover truly gold
    through each one of their's labour-hard
    and silent uphill battles, so complicated.

    Finally, the mean demons quenched
    their greed using the entrapping word,
    sounding alike a promise, to be kept unmoved
    and this took away the honest breaths' life.

    The four-leaf clover's treasured,
    by the humble hearts were forever gone.

  • nirvanabharga0 11w

    *Sometimes we need to bleed ink to heal and feel more of self.

    //Don't know why, yet...
    Happy reading ❤

    Thank you so much @miraquill for EC#2 ♡ &
    @writersnetwork for the ♡

    #symbol #wod #pod @miraquill @writersnetwork #miraquill #writersnetwork #shewrites #poetry

    Read More

    O Dear Rosy roses
    Take all the hues of red from my blood and
    play some nocturnal notes for me.

    O Dear lucky clovers
    Take all the opulences of my renaissances and
    read some mighty purple prose for me.

    O Dear whippy-bouncy frisky balloons
    Take all my last of breaths and
    blend my zephyr zeal with the alluring
    azure of ethereal ether.

    O Dear blissful tree blossoms
    of all the seasons of endless time
    Take all the tidbits of my life's anecdotes and
    sussurate some soothing berceuses for me.

    // For I don't feel like myself anymore.


  • euphoriccree 11w

    This is my first story I'm posting here and I hope you all like it. I used symbol here to an extent it needs an explanation so here it is
    The balloons are her hopes and dreams.
    The different colours of the balloons symbolise the different goals she has.
    The needle means a boy or a romantic partner she loves
    Trying to sew names on the balloons mean trying to achieve her dreams with that person
    The needle getting lost is as we all know betrayal and abandonment or heartbreak.
    The bursted balloons mean broken promises and shattered dreams.

    #symbol #wod #pod @miraquill @aimanisheikh @todayis @writersnetwork @mirakeeworld #story #storywriting #shortstory #truth #creesameon

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    Bursted Balloons.

    A little girl loved colours
    She slept every night waking up the next morning with another wish from her beautiful dreams,
    And that made her keep balloons filled with air of her breath beside the window of her room.
    Every new dream a new balloon
    and it went on and on as her mother supported her in that.
    Then a day came and she learnt how to sew
    She fell so in love with sewing ;
    The needle pricked her fingers a few times but she couldn't care less.
    Until a day it got as far as she planned to sew names on those balloons but as she tried each balloon bursted,
    She tried harder as she couldn't fathom why the needle would burst her balloons
    She continued until all the balloons bursted
    She still didn't give up because she thought the needle will stay with her.
    But she couldn't even find it anymore
    All she had left were bursted balloons and a broken heart no needle to patch it all back.
    Cree Sameon♡

  • __maryam__ 11w

    Look into the sun as the new days rise
    There's a rhythm and rush these days
    Where the lights don't move and the colors don't fade
    Leaves you empty with nothing but dreams
    In a world gone shallow
    In a world gone lean
    But there is a truth and it's on our side
    Dawn is coming open your eyes
    Look into the sun as a new days rise

    -José González
    (Stay alive)


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    Human race is like telegraph plants
    Injected with curiosity
    Where some interrogation marks
    Brought revolutionary earthquakes
    In cloud cuckoo lands

    Like red rose in hands crushed
    Into vestigial vermilion on forehead
    Most of the failed hypotheses
    Marry immobile inferno

    Few escape to bath
    In labyrinthine purgatory
    To find the doors for their heydays

    Passionate helium balloons
    Infect the blue ping pong ball
    Which are ready to touch
    The virgin cumulonimbi
    To disprove four-leaf clover shower


  • maolros 11w

    A red rose wilts but not alone
    Outside my bedroom window
    I take my blue binoculars
    And try to see beyond the thorns

    Into the fleshy stems and veins
    You showed me when you pruned them back
    But you took the purge too far
    Decided they were too much work

    Now you have three ugly stumps
    That cannot muster majesty
    They yearn to bloom as once they did
    But all they have are jagged scars

    That burst my newly-gifted ball
    I cried and blamed their sharpened claws
    Not understanding the attack
    Or how you've made them vulnerable

    I spy their petals lying dead
    And focus on the nibbled edges
    I count as many as I can
    Until the shouting dies at last

    Quiet as a mouse I lay
    So as not to re-disturb
    I think on gnarled and damaged thorns
    And wonder when I'll grow my own


  • sproutedseeds 11w


    Tree.... student
    Crowned/spring... graduation
    Trust on its roots...parents

    @writersnetwork thank you for the like ❤️
    @miraquill thank you for editor's choice ❤️

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    Tree blossoms(symbolising spring)

    Confident of its roots
    A tree stands firm
    friendly with all the seasons
    accomodating every challenge
    without any fear of climatic changes
    enjoys getting drenched in rain
    Looks chill in winter
    though struggling with degree
    as she knows she will be crowned
    with the colourful hat in spring
    all set to enjoy the spring of life
    blossomed in beauty and fragrance
    spread far and near.

    Spring adds wings of happiness
    to every tree with trust on its roots.


  • _broken_mirror_ 11w

    The red petals between the pages of my journal,
    Is the only good memory left of you,
    Those petals of the red rose have dried long ago,
    Still they have some fragrance left in them,
    Just like my tears which have dried long ago,
    Still the wound looks fresh in my heart.

  • hoorbanu98 11w

    My balloons are like rainbow♥❤
    Which bow for hopes and dreams♥❤

    The spoon was filled with tune
    And Soon,
    I lost me
    I lost love
    I lost days
    I even lost time
    May be it was June, Monsoon
    But every time with moon
    I even enjoyed the air which raised my balloons

    《 03-11-2021 》

  • leo0707 11w

    ―Up, up and up―

    My hand interlocked with her tiny fingers,
    Though slippery yet clinging on to me firmly,
    Afraid that I would let go.

    But the wind blew past me,
    Coercing us to accept the fate.

    Our hand's unwinded,
    With tears brimming on the corner of her eyes.

    I flew up and up,
    Carrying her dreams,
    And her only wish to shine.


  • pratik_satpute 11w

    Swaddled up in the dark time,
    I am prisoned in a void under a sombre vibe.
    When one matches steps with others,
    I walk lonely with no tribe.

    Blowing balloons of 'affection' named mime,
    On this shivery winter night,
    I keep walking alone,
    Watching them vanish in no light.


  • halcyon_sparrow 11w

    Balloons far over in the sky
    He saw those gleefully for a moment
    Then turned to the machine
    Which he had to repair
    So that he could earn his daily wage
    And return to his land of despair

  • prem79 11w

    Inflated many balloons of different hues
    Adorning the sky
    When eyes were awake with only dreams
    To scale the highest height existing
    But balloons could only appear
    As far as the eyes could sight
    I could see my balloons afloating
    With an art unexisting
    And they disappeared into the air
    But I didn't stop blowing more balloons.


  • antheia_ 11w

    #symbol #chastushka #novemberc

    ��ℴ��ℯ����ℯ�� is for...
    Those argentine beams of the ������������ moon
    teasing the autumnal ������������ bestrewn
    upon the swaying glades of ���������� it festoons
    mystical precious silvern runes
    mirth burgeons in the soil jejune
    hope riffles in tree blossoms though li'l hewn.



    P. S~
    Sharad (ritu)~ Autumn season as per the Hindi lunar calendar.
    Sewali ~ Assamese name of the Shiuli/ Shefali flower (night flowering jasmine).
    Kohua(bon)~ Assamese name of Kaash phool/ Kaas grass.

    So very thankful for the appreciation❣️ @writersnetwork

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    ℴℯℯ is for...