1428 posts
  • dr_fake 1w


    Rewind the feelings and remember the flow of time, rewrite the love that shall make us wild..

    © नीर

  • drsroy 1w

    Craving n Desire

    Craving is primal, it's something you are born with, if you Crave someone your urges turn straight.
    Your Desires run wild...
    Your wish to touch them battles your self-control...
    And man ooh man when you do touch them, the warmth form inside within you... Burns...! Burns your blood, and wherever it flows heats you up inside out.
    Whoever you are Craving for, may be miles away, the Desire to engrave your bite on their body flows through your head.
    You aren't blinded neither you loose awareness, it's just that for a moment you are in a different place where time flows differently,
    where reality is interruptive,
    and where your Cravings meets your Desires.
    The true Craving comes from your core, while Desire sits in your mind, and trust me, when you are with the right person, man ooh man, there single look mesmerises them both exponentially....
    And thank whoever you belive in coz this feeling is rare... Trust me...!


  • claralynne 2w

    LOST AND FOUND: Fair, Feral Feline

    You would not have found my face on a flier stapled to a pole on some road somewhere...
    Or on the side of a milk carton.
    But you should've...
    No one was looking for me though.
    No one wanted me.
    I was so lost when he found me.
    Wandering. Aimless...
    I knew I had made a wrong turn or two. But I had no idea how lost I actually was.
    I was dirty. From the inside out. Unkept. Malnourished.
    I hadn't had a bath in God knows how long.
    . .I mean actually HAD and ENJOYED a bath.
    Felt the warm water soothe my muscles and wash my bad days away.
    I tried to act like I knew where I was and that I was fine.
    He saw right through it.
    He took me in. Kept me warm.
    I could not remember the last time I had eaten.
    I could never find food wandering in the dark.
    I would always wait for the sun to come out, but it never did.
    It was like I fell asleep one night and just never woke up. And the nightmare never ended.
    I kept asking myself why he would want to help me.
    I was a feline on my ninth life, and I had come to terms with it at that point.

    Afraid to live.
    No longer a spunky cat that climbed trees.
    No twinkle in my eye.
    No more did I sunbathe and watch the birds fly high.
    To be blunt and honest, I was waiting to die.
    I was timid when I saw him at first. But I could tell his intentions were good.
    Scaredy cat.
    I thought to myself I didn't have anything to lose.
    The smallest little piece of me thought an angel had crossed my path.
    I had lost hope on that ever happening long ago.
    But Maybe...
    Just maybe ...
    I was saved?
    I just couldnt believe someone wanted to help me find "home "
    He made sure I ate good.
    He would rub me at night.
    I had forgotten how good it felt to actually purr.
    I had been in the wild for so long...never again did I think I'd be dreaming dreams in a cozy bed.
    Not that leaves and mulch couldn't be cozy, but I didn't miss it.
    And to think I always clowned on them domesticated kitty cats.
    I felt like a lucky dog.
    But you see, I had been in the wild for so long, it had somehow become part of me.
    Feline so fair, yet with a feral side.
    I had it so good, but I shamefully found myself longing for that sense of freedom the came with the wild.
    My heart had become so full, and these thoughts world come.... And they ruined everything.
    Absolutely everything.
    And here I find myself wandering in the dark again.
    He just wanted to give me a home.
    He showed me that a filthy alley cat could be loved again.
    I had felt lovable for the first time since I could remember.
    I was mistaken.
    I knew nothing of freedom.
    I was only just learning what love was.
    and what it felt like to actually be loved.
    I had never felt anything like it.
    It was almost scary.
    More scary than the wild could be.
    Scaredy cat... that I was...
    And now here I am...
    The darkness I find myself roaming in once again is not freedom.
    Only the strong survive out here in the wild.
    Winters coming; it's already gotten so cold.
    There's not enough shelter for us all out here in the wild.
    If only I hadn't acted like such a child.
    Sometimes I wonder if he misses me and our night time cuddles.
    Does he look for me?
    Did he stapled my picture on a pole on a street somewhere?
    I miss how he'd give me those saucers of milk...
    All I know is that this is my ninth life. My last life.
    And I hope I can feel that feeling of home again before it's over.
    In the meantime, I will nestle in this mulch and leaves and find comfort.
    I will pretend....
    and reminisce on a happy time that I'm so very grateful to have had... no matter what.

  • extreme_case 3w

    She was shy,
    Little afraid to fly,
    But so wild
    To conquer all the skies.


  • mystical_writer26 4w


    Smile like those abandoned flowers,
    Who have mesmerizing powers,
    Who are wild and free with the wind
    And who grow even in places that are ruined.

    Smile like those wild lonely flowers in bloom,
    Whom time has taught to smile when it's gloom,
    Who have the charming purple hues,
    Even when their life faces blues.

    They dance with the gentle breeze and the strong air,
    They are very much of the world aware,
    Abandoned, wild and powerful,
    this is why time has made them beautiful.

    Be like those left off flowers,
    Who every day and every hour
    Keep smiling no matter the weather,
    Keep smiling together.


  • aidanpoems 6w

    #pod #wod #wild #free #child
    It's really a reoccurring theme in my mind... freedom, and the many ways we can abuse it.
    #aidanpoems #potentialpotential
    (Comment to let me know what you think!)

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    Free child

    When I live in moments of thrill,
    I find myself in great peril.
    I watch as darkness' wrath unfold,
    From the center of my soul.

    I know the wrongs that I have done,
    Tell me, what have I become?
    I live the life of a child,
    Free.. but I am wild.


  • octavian 6w


    Rather than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness... give me truth.


  • elli_mcfarlane 6w


    Homeless and painfully forlorn,
    spirit present, yet shattered, broken,
    feeling perpetually forsaken.

    They say my life is one of freedom,
    yet I'm chained to existentialism,
    appearing outwardly a wild animal.

    Sitting, staring, scared and alone,
    I become cognisant of my beginnings,
    I've never given up, wild heart still beating.

    Picking myself up, dusting away shame,
    I declare revival over my life once again,
    trading my wild looks for wild praise.

    God today... We start again.


  • aphroditenow 6w

    Wildness of broken crayons

    I often wonder:
    How you would define the wild-
    That which cannot be tamed,
    That which cannot be chained,
    That does not conform,
    It may be a rebellion with fiery eyes.
    That which is born to the wilderness
    Will perhaps become too exclusive.
    Would you call a child wild?
    The child who takes care of his crayons,
    Keeps each intact, a beautiful whole,
    But fills the elephant in his page with pink.
    I myself can't figure it out.
    However, I know
    I would certainly call a child good at learning
    When the child could be trained to think
    An elephant always wears grey;
    It is ridiculous to paint an elephant pink.

    Looking back now I know
    I used to be the child good at learning.
    I knew I was never wild.
    I was the child who would
    Stack all her crayons perfectly
    Following the pattern of a rainbow,
    Keeping each crayon stick a whole,
    Guarding the rainbow with rigid
    Black and white on the either side,
    Believing the VIBGYOR to be followed
    Simply, solely, everywhere the colours could be spilt.
    I was not wild.
    Never did I look for rainbow in the faces surrounding me,
    But for in the rain-washed bright sky.

    As I kept growing up, the crayons got eroded.
    Growing up, at times, can be fun.
    Now, the broken crayons in my bag
    Tumble, welter and roll,
    Carve out utter chaos in blank pages,
    Wildly and unrestrained.
    Now I know what a VIBGYOR is
    Besides knowing what and how a child sees.
    At last I could fill myself with life....

  • cruisey 6w

    #combination #once #wild
    PS: Words in " " belong to Srinithi and Sam respectively.

    Read More

    Someone once told me, If a poem doesn’t rhyme, it is still poetry. Because broken crayons don’t lose their colour, their essence and importance. They are still crayons.
    I’ve read Srinithi’s posts, and I find that you can write on something as simple as a word. “How perfect would this be ? If this exists in the real world.”
    I’ve read Sam’s posts, and I find that poetry can be a page full of bottled up emotions. “But i have so much left to say, feelings i want to portray, before i decay.”
    I read a lot of people without being acknowledged.
    I saw someone writing 
    a satire on Miraquill itself. 
    On rabri pao and religion.
    On a table knife.
    On a haircut.
    On usernames.
    Poetry is an assembly in words of thoughts running wild.

    On the other hand, there have been instances where it occurred to me that I was daydreaming because I was reading 
    a thesaurus and dictionary,
    DIY depression den,
    Search history,
    Instagram instances,
    Reeled reality.
    and calling it a write up.
    Anyways, that was me being uneducated.
    Poetry is anything written wholeheartedly.


  • inc_thoughts 6w

    stay wild
    for a while
    with me

  • madinah_writes 6w

    Her tongue tasted like pumpkin.
    My lips, washed through her love-shapped, wild skin.

  • nocturnal_enigma 6w

    * 13.10.2021; 12.41 A.M (Malaysia)

    #wild #wod @miraquill


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    Wild ~

    Wandering-spirit that run so wild,
    while mind wondering for awhile.

    © Nuruliffa Emirah
    @ nocturnal_enigma

  • sundarcvc 6w


    Waiting for someone special.
    Wearing my blue jean and white T-Shirt,
    She didn't show up and it hurt.
    Felt like I was bruised aside,
    Like a piece of dirt.

    Wearing my blue jean and white T-Shirt,
    And there she was in a short pink skirt.
    I walked towards her and said "Hey".
    She looked at me in disgust,
    Felt like a piece if garbage,
    As she kept me at bay.
    And I knew that instant she ain't gonna stay.

    Wearing my blue jean and White T-Shirt,
    And there she was in a short pink skirt.
    Wearing that beautiful smile,
    Which make me melt,
    Even if I am away by a mile.
    But whose that other guy with her,
    With such a swag and style?
    I walk towards her anyway and say "Hey",
    That guy gave a look like he's here to stay.
    She gave me a big smile,
    Introducing me as her friend,
    And him as her boyfriend.

    Wearing my blue Jean and White T-Shirt,
    And there she was in a short pink skirt.
    Looking into her phone and around.
    I walked towards her and said Hey!
    She smiled and extended her hand,
    So soft and tanned.
    Her beauty and presence,
    Had a such a command,
    The stress to impress,
    Was too much of a demand,
    A demand from myself.
    Followed by a string of conversations,
    And awkward silences.
    Her constant look at phone,
    And the look of pity she has shown,
    I just wanted myself to be cut into pieces,
    And thrown.

    I just stopped my car,
    Waiting for some one special,
    Wearing my blue jean and white T-Shirt,
    And there she was in short pink skirt.
    Looking into her phone and around.
    I walked towards her and said "Hey"!
    She got up and gave me a big hug,
    My hormones went crazy,
    As if I have given them their favorite drug.
    I hug her back,
    It was really something,
    To wrap my arms around her petite,
    Yet fit body.
    We sat and man she was so good to talk with.
    We laughed and shared so many things in common.
    Her occasional touch,
    And her shy looks said so much.
    It was getting late and time to leave,
    But we both clearly had so much steam,
    It almost felt like a dream,
    When I looked into her eyes,
    And it screamed,
    "Take me with you"
    Her happiness beaming,
    And I looked into the stars,
    Before stopping the car,
    I really had let my imagination,
    Run Wild.

  • btslove 6w

    ᴡɪʟᴅꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴛʜᴏʀɴꜱ

    There's nothing exist
    in collinear form,
    Either it's love maze or dark abyss
    We are neither wrapped in hues of grey
    nor walking straight
    on lines of Symphony
    We are wind, we are light
    bridging one verse to another,
    our bleeding pen flowing
    continuously at night.
    /I Observed all this concept keenly after reading
    fifty two pages of my first fiction book/ 

    Impossibilities and
    possibilities are dancing
    on the same cusp wildly,
    But differences are just little,
    standing so far from realities 
    /Perhaps what we are watching is an illusion,
    or a reflection of the wrong direction/

    After observing twenty minutes,
    I found something
    written in grey shades
    on last white pages,
    "walk on this road only if you feel secure enough…
    reading just one line and
    my leg get freezed for long time
    rushing river of thousands question
    jump on me,
    After fighting with few of them,
    the tightening of ice slowly slowly
    starts melting.

    ~What will you choose between Wildflowers
    and soft thorns?

    5:37 pm
    12 October 21


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    Wildflowers or Soft thorns

  • winter_moon 6w

    Hello everyone ❤️🦋
    I didn't know how to make wild beautiful. I didn't know how to clarify a wild loin as an animal of love. I didn't know how to call the drops of blood, the vapours of the red rose. I didn't know how to cure all that can't be healed. All I knew was the hallucinating words that told me to see the things that didn't exist. 🌻

    Born as a single flake of snow.,
    Who would find me amidst the frozen peaks
    But that speck of dusk
    Smudged on me, the purple wounds
    And those sunken scars
    The burns of failures, they call my name
    and talk about my shades of wounds.
    I would be no different, it would’ve been
    A translucent raindrop just like you
    But I’m filled with the fortune of muck
    That flickers and pierces in me.
    I don’t know about your rainbow-filled wings
    But mine are ebony and wild
    Full of tales from the skies and the hazes.
    I was born as a flaw, messed and drowned
    And I don’t know about your silver shine
    But only a wild flaw fits on the moon.


    #wod #pod #imagery

    @rameez @tasneem53 @countablyinfinite @asmakhan @thoughtfull_writer @falak_k @fahidhameed @twinkling_girl @iam_rose @poetrynowar @_aasia @mirakee_reposter @zubair_ @aleesa @sheikhaehsann @litrazor @amsterdam @i_repost @sheikh_huzaifa @saima__ @mohammed_

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    I was born as a flaw, messed and drowned
    And I don’t know about your silver shine
    But only a wild flaw fits on the moon.


  • bellemoon99 7w

    Wildest dreams

    Never in my wildest dreams, or in my sweetest vigils
    Did I ever encounter such joy, and such freedom
    With you I feel more than whole, I feel alive.
    I feel I can be whoever I wish to be, and I feel I'm better than I used to be
    Dear, by your side I'm happier than ever
    Whether I dream or stay awake, my life with you is heavenly

  • voiletblackfire 7w

    Wild winter

    The wild winter is coming
    I see the trees getting cut for the fire cause the wild winter will come
    And sun will have no intensity and the ground will become frozen
    It's definitely the start of wild winter coming
    So beware
    And be warm
    The wild winter is here!!

  • silhouette_of_a_poet 7w


    The detour to dreams
    Looked enticing yet wild
    As her tresses in gordian knots
    Fell over her sun-kissed face


  • mimansha_bhatt 7w

    #writersnetwork #wild @writersnetwork @miraquill @love_whispererr #morbid #notsodeadpoet #verse #morbid #wild #wod
    Always embrace yourself people..Life is too short to have insecurities about yourself..Keep working on yourself not because you are behind others instead do it because you can always do better...Always stay motivated and keep motivating..Bye Bye birdies..��


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    As I stopped
    Cherishing myself
    I lost the wild inside of me
    Just the dead poet alive
    Trudging down the aisle
    Of my deceased poetry