211 posts
  • saif5alam 26w

    When the nights get too long, and it's dark, darker than the darkest nights, do we still search for someone else to light up the candle or we go ourselves and brighten up the place. We cannot always wait for someone else to come and change our lives.

    You are feeling betrayed because you gave all of yourself. You kept yourself asleep on the nights when all you needed was a sound sleep because they were upset and you wanted to heal them somehow. There were days when you kept waiting for just one text from them while they were partying with their friends. There were days when you left everything just to meet them. And you never complained. You were in love, and you were happy to make them smile.

    Everything has ended now. All the years of promises have ended up for nothing. They were with you when it was winter and they needed the warmth of your love. It's spring now and they are gone to pick other flowers that they find beautiful. Now, they want to see the sunrise with someone else while you are here watching the sunsets alone.

    I understand that you are finding it hard to digest everything. It is too much for you. I understand that all you can think these days are the promises that you two made while talking on the nights that used to appear beautiful then. I understand that you are feeling used.

    I am not asking you to forgive them. Don't forget anything. But what you are doing is wrong. You are allowing them to control your life even after they are long gone. You are still wasting your time on someone who doesn't care. I want you to know that you are whole. You do not need someone to feel better. Don't allow this night to get darker, stand up and burn a candle or anything. Make a castle and brighten up your place. You are important.

  • miss_silentlyweird 27w

    The tool I use in writing is my pen of experiences and paper of emotions. It's my heritage— evidence of my history, a thing I inherited from my past and present self; ready to be handed as memories to my future self.


    #heritage #tools
    #wod #pod #mirakee
    Source ��: Canva

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    Experiences is curved within pen
    keeping in box of paper like precious heritage.

  • imm0rtal_lexic0n 27w

    वो तलवार है
    जो जिगर को चीर कर
    पन्नो पे उतार दे..
    वो श्रृंगार है
    जो बिन बिहाई दुल्हन को
    सवार दे..
    वो आज़ादी है
    जो कैदियों को नया
    अवतार दे..
    वो ताकत है
    जो कमजोरो को
    निहार दे..
    वो शिकवा है
    जो रूथे हुए को
    मान दे..
    वो देहलीज़ है
    जो हर कोई ना
    पार दे..

    witten by: @imm0rtal_lexic0n

    #tool #tools #writingtool #wod #mirakee #kalam #writersnetwork
    @writersnetwork @mirakee @mirakeeworld @mirakee_miraquill
    Pic Credit to the rightfull owner..♥

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    ||..कलम उठाई है, शब्द कहां से लाउ,
    आपके जैसा हमराज़ कहां से लाउ,
    ब्यान करदे जो तकदीरे हमारी,
    ऐसा कोई औजार कहां से लाउ..||


  • unsaidwordsbyme10 27w

    Kal raat phir se un yaado n jakda tha,
    Bechaniyo k alva kuch n diya!

  • bulderme 27w

    #scary #ghost #imagination #drawing #tools

    Her and Her Drawings

    She loves having friends;
    I believe a little too much.
    She has many imaginations;
    She puts them to use on paper.

    She always has a pencil around her;
    It draws very dark and thick.
    She prefers pricey pencils;
    Especially with good erasers.

    She puts her drawings on the fridge;
    She hates it when we take them down.
    Many people say she is "disturbing";
    I believe she just has a good imagination.

    She has one in particular;
    She calls him "Christopher";
    Christopher loves playtime.
    He hates being alone, she would say.

    She draws Christopher a lot;
    She even talks to him in person.
    Her and her wacky imaginations;
    She is very creative.

    She once told him to give her a cup.
    The cup in front of her slowly squeaked,
    Squeaked across the table.
    We have Christopher in our house.

    When he is alone,
    Christopher scratches up the walls;
    He even gives messages on the mirrors.
    He cries easily.

    It's all just my little girl's imagination.
    Just her and her drawings.


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    Her and Her Drawings

    My friend

  • sonu99 27w

    #pen, #sword, #pod, #wod, #writing, #tools, #view, #knowledge, #history,#evolution, @mirakee,@writersnetwork,@writerstolli,@mirakeeworld

    We know that "The Pen is mightier than the sword",
    Which has been noted stories of civilisations in words.
    Writing have been an important intellectual human activity,
    History have been preserved through the evolution of writing tools and man's creativity.

    One of the first were the Reed Pens,sophisticated in writing,
    Later replaced by the Quill Pens,where birds were contributing.
    Feathers in writing were replaced by the Metal Pens, Then arrived the Fountain Pens with ink rains.

    Then began a new era of ink and pen modernity,
    With development in Science and humanity.
    The advent of the Ball Pens and Mechanical Pens are just amazing,
    Marker Pens, Gel Pens,Coloured Pens are so interesting.

    With advancement and evolution as new venture,
    Dip Pens, Space Pens and Digital Pens came into picture.
    The World can be changed with a pen,
    Through the communication via the brain.

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    Evolution of The Pen


  • 300roses 27w

    Thanks for the repost (12th)��.


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    Old Quill pen in hand,
    its cushioned tip dips in
    the ink pot of my
    broken heart
    & comes to life.
    As the pen moves on the
    rugged surface,
    my silent cries turn into
    strokes & curves
    on the worn out paper.


  • asteroidxae 27w

    It's always her reminiscence
    that kindled my verses
    twinkling chandeliers
    in my stygian crypt
    fallen plumage
    the quill staining blues
    an ethereal river
    a bridge to our eyes
    incessant emotional flows
    parched in the drought of deceit
    in its muddy swamp,
    my seared sonnets perished
    and elegies unfurled wide
    As I freed her kite to tears
    at the edge of love
    I'm that dead muse buried
    in the cemeteries
    of remorseful rhapsodies
    and splintered thoughts pierced
    vermilion streams imbued
    to sheets where poesy subdued.


    #tools #wod #pod @mirakee @writersnetwork
    bgpic: unsplash

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    dead muse

    I'm that dead muse buried
    in the cemeteries
    of remorseful rhapsodies


  • absynth 27w

    poetic (duet/do it)

    The basic structure of Poetry
    Can be divided into two parts
    To explain it easily-
    The Art and the Craft

    The tools that comprise the art part
    Are your emotions, experiences, observations
    While the craft is about being smart
    With your lexicon,knowledge, beliefs and opinions

    The Art requires the poet
    To be nonjudgmental and vulnerable
    While the Craft completes the duet
    With its grasp and command over faculties mental.

    Emotions - Lend unpredictability to one's poems making them unique.

    Experiences - Provide the material and assist with the narrative.

    Observations - Lend specificity to one's ideas while balancing the emotional unpredictability by their elements of awareness and curiosity.

    Lexicon - The vocabulary, grammar and exposure to the writings of others which collectively draw in the reader.

    Knowledge - The assimilated logic which provides one with readymade topics
    Which when internally processed turn to Beliefs
    And when externally expressed turn to Opinions on a blank sheet.

    The Art must always have an upper hand
    If the poet wants to get across to readers
    While the Craft makes the process grand
    Like silk on which golden words are embroidered.

    The recommended ratio of Art:Craft is 60:40 atleast
    for the poem to stand out and speak to the audience,
    This delicate balance between the two halves is reached
    Only by constant practice and resilience.


  • puchka 27w

    Spatula, spoons, tongs, ladles
    stirring in my cranium
    cook up verses

  • hoorbanu98 27w

    Feelings, emotions, pain, struggles, experiences, expectations, realities, Dreams, Trust......
    Are tools for writing.

    My Tools for writing
    Is like a varieties of flowers and throns
    Just like GARDEN with Beauty and pain

    Thoughts are petals
    Words are flowers
    Expressing are throns

    Born with petals,
    Convertes into flowers
    Branches of flowers in a GARDEN

    How a GRADEN is a mixture
    Of beauty, smell, pain
    Just like it
    my writings is a picture of same.

    #mirakee #writersnetwork #hoorbanu98 #tools #wod #pod #garden

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    Tools of writings
    is a GARDEN
    of Smiling
    and Crying ♥


  • rskumar1991 27w

    I call this the Utility Belt of Writing.

    #tools #tool #mirakee #miraquill
    #writersnetwork #wod

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    Pen or pencil, paper and thoughts,
    Archaic tools, these undo the knots;
    Inking the emotions on the blotter,
    Letting them know it does matter.

    Notepad or blog, thesaurus and notions,
    Modern tools, these unleash diverse perceptions;
    Etching the belief in the screen,
    Hoping to better lives even unseen.

    Whatever be the kit for writing,
    With rhythms and rhymes continue dating;
    The love for penning is not for fame,
    Words go hither and thither without any aim.


  • _astitva_ 27w

    !!Tools of Seasons!!


    Soulful sunkissed mornings
    Bloom ballads of bluebells
    Spellbinding the senses
    sews the scars of solitude


    Barberous blazing noons
    Sheen sonnets of sunflowers
    Marmalizing the monotony
    Ripens the reveries of relish


    Darkish drizzling dusks
    Scent sestets of salvias
    Flourishing the focus
    Irrigates the ink of imagination


    Soggy sombre nights
    Rustle rhymes of rubeckias
    Shedding the suspicions
    Quickens the quil of quests


    Chilly cheerful dawns
    Freeze fabble of flannels
    Fogging the fears
    Scribbles the sheets of soul


    #wod #tools #seasons #alliterations
    @writersnetwork @mirakee

    PS: Even I don't know what is penned.����

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    Seasons of sentiments bloom the
    salvias of simili to purfume the
    petrichor of poesy.


  • milliondreamsarekeepingmeawake 27w

    I keep scratching my wounds
    with mournful numbers
    and filled my inkpot with blood
    my tears started whispering words
    Prolonged heartache helped to
    form string of words
    I painted the parchment with pain

    The lesions started healing
    with the number of poems I inked
    my pen started drying
    freezing the emotions of my soul

    The warmth of daylight
    thaw my sentiments
    the gliding zephyr and petrichor
    filled my heart with ecstasy
    and my life with fragrance
    I picked the hues from rainbows
    played with the twinkling stars
    and flew with the birds
    with the ink of bliss i started
    writing down the cadence of cosmos

    #tools #wod
    #mirakee #pod #JEN_WNREPOST
    Thank you so much for repost �� @writersnetwork

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    I keep scratching my wounds
    with mournful numbers

  • zoya_charmz 27w


  • unsung_seagull 27w

    Shooting stars,
    To run down
    In vain.
    Wishing bones
    Are writhing in

    For a story
    I wanted to write
    I've forgotten
    My own name.

    Colours faint
    Out of boredom,
    On the canvas
    I want to paint.

    Melodies stand
    Divided for a
    Song that's
    On it's way.

    Before I could
    God has stoned
    My fate...

    For the
    Between my

    I'm just a
    Tale in a
    Torn out page.

    #tools #wod #pod @writersnetwork @mirakee

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    Tale out in a Torn Out Page


  • inked_selenophile 27w

    #youarec @writersbay

    #tools bhi shayad ��

    68 ✨

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  • bubbly_bluebells 27w


    Poems are incense ceremony sticks
    death is a spade digging up coffins
    Buried in the graveyard of heartaches

    What kill inside can't pass in life!
    good or bad both,be vigilant observer
    Few things should be killed
    But never ever pause
    some artefacts for a moment
    Have a voice somehow whispering
    Like mushrooms of felicity
    In echoes of silent horror city

    Don't wanna die heaped as ashes
    Stop attending job of dead burners
    Liting eighteen candles every eighteen meters
    Whatever disappeared,ensue,betide
    my corpse,my desires,mine responsibilities
    Hunderd or looser
    Circumstances are inevitable
    never blaming God for nightmares
    But falling in the trap is a choice
    Ain't urns bunker of vintage souls
    Irony,can't see there where future exist!

    Simply,obliquely making here a ladder
    from catastrophic monuments
    An oracle of poetries is an afterlife!

    How you choose to express yourself
    is an art of living poetry
    A tool to survive during spindrift
    Facewashing to wake up again
    Come back with pinksand & pen

  • enchantedmedium 27w

    Writers tools

    Thoughts to pen, emotions of heart lead the ink to stain the grains of paper sheets to leave an impression of me.


  • v_4_ved 27w


    I tried to be a good one
    But I can't anymore.
    And now I seek to run
    Unless I reach a peaceful shore

    Trying to ignore how every bit of fire
    Is pushed to die
    and so all the desires
    That once gleamed in my eyes
    Find it helpless to thrive

    Every right made me suffer,
    And now I'm nasty and sordid
    It hurts , but I guess now I'm tougher
    Letting the moments to fall and skid

    I Wanted to be a priority
    But I guess I'm just a need
    Expected to fulfill you
    But I loose what no one sees
    It's not me
    It's always your greed
    And so shall you get it from me
    But not me for I'll fly once Im freed

    I'm too far to be called back now
    Although I'm too close for you to see
    The sould died long back
    It's just the body that you see
    Nowhere to escape .
    It's suffocating out and in
    There's nothing to expect now
    But still embers of body striding