Dushmano se kia shikwa, kya gila rqeebo se,ye sanp astino m hmne khd hi palay hain ~parizad

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  • fromwitchpen 2w

    Breakfast: The ½th of the tray

    Crack, two eggs lost their life
    but the buttery smell which
    made the neighborhood a
    treat to be alive, black hands
    and a fat white stomach, a sight
    hard to fathom, stuffing potatoes
    in the bread, two chillies cut to
    pieces, coffee beans quenched
    a depressed pill, burning the
    chest of forevers,

    A long table covered with
    cuisines, the smell of sour
    and sweet together breathe,
    eggs, stuffed chicken, rice,
    sausages, pancakes and
    toasted sandwiches,

    A white finger abutted the
    dishes when a black foot
    walked towards the table
    a face of nausea that white
    girl made thinking how the
    black hands must have
    cooked this awful food,
    stomping out of the room
    she cursed her colour and

    Shiver ran down the black
    beauty's back, her owner
    mocked her and showed
    her what homosapiens
    looks like, throwing out
    of the house like a trash,
    she loosened the side of
    her scarf, where aloo paratha
    spread a minty and spicy

    There stood a beggar behind
    her, ½th of the tray, she
    shared with him. While
    having that colorful pill
    she stole, welcoming
    the odour of depression
    in the breakfast's pleasant



    Hi elisabet *.* Had your breakfast?

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    All black lives matter
    Color ain't a conundrum
    Nights are black and beaut
    Depression a trend
    Social media its muse
    Mental health, misused

  • fromwitchpen 2w

    One clap two tap shoe three cut the cake
    the fourth clap may bless you with glee
    fifth clap counterfeit thy being
    sixth clap an optimistic purlieu thine home
    seventh and eighth feel the beat
    ninth to make a wish
    tenth, have a beautiful life ahead
    In the end longevity must reap in thy soul

    The second stanza is a Golden Shovel . (The 'Y' alliteration of Rajeev are used in it)

    A very happy birthday Rajeev @_astitva_
    You are the sweetest lotus in this place always spreading love and positivity.
    Pizzas and ice creams for you ( ◜‿◝ )♡

    A collaboration with the talented @kin_jo .
    you can read the other part at #rajeevkabirthday

    Also thank you @elisabetkiss for your constant support in one second how can I thank you sometimes I lack words . Many kisses to u ��

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    Existence Of An Achiever

    A shore without combers
    refugee cologne and pearls
    so dulcet. In combination
    of gaiety and glum. He, who
    hath quaffed the undressed
    emotions from orbs of every
    person, shan't grip the balloons
    bursting into selflessness,

    Darkness, his quill is yeeping
    flakes of love— his smile yowndrift
    guffawing cruelty his persona yirds
    glint' grease of bygones yarling
    and his poems sparkle yestermorrows

    And then the Oppenheimer's mind
    suffuse into a powerful sonnet
    and a poetry he wrote with
    the scar of uncertainties.

  • fromwitchpen 2w

    #routine hamaray Sath to yhi hota h, na sitaray ugty hyn na barish hoti h na pani aata h bas pura din beizzati hoti h '-"

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    Sleep, sleep, sleep
    While the sun will start to ablaze
    by your laziness
    Eat, eat, eat
    Till your stomach bursts
    Drink, drink, drink
    Not water, but medical syrups and cokes
    Dance, dance, dance
    hit by mom's sandal by chance
    Wake, wake, wake
    Night is the hectic day .

  • fromwitchpen 2w

    Intehayi ***** ksm k msly hyn :D

    What Ik journal means to write your heart out agar life k kachara maslay journal m likhrhy to bhai tm p Allah hi hafiz hai better h apnay journal ko more like a kch bh bkwas jaga banao ta k overthinking s nijaat milay

    Wn bhai muaazratkhwan hyn aap s but apunko ese hi likhnay ka sooj rha aajkl. Aap lagay rhye , bahut achay s apna kaam krrhy aajkl . (Zara pod ka matlab miraquill chacha ko explain krdynga lgta h wo bhool gy hyn)

    This is for fun ��

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    Hat-trick: 3 Mistakes I Made in 3 Mistakes Of My Life

    3 Mistakes In My Life
    It was a beautiful sunset
    when I turned 10 and washed
    a spoon,
    It was the worst mistake of
    my life cause now
    After washing all the utensils
    when I look happily inside
    the dishwasher
    there always remain a spoon
    left looking at me
    laughing at my misery
    I never thought those dramas
    I used to watch with my mom
    where after every half of the
    scene a girl
    come in with a tray of cookies
    and tea,
    Will be a death of me
    now I'm an amazing actress
    in my house who have
    to perform the same scene
    over and over again
    My biggest mistake was
    when one day I was
    falling in love with my newborn
    twin siblings and unfortunately
    I changed their diaper
    *You can understand what
    could have happened to me
    after that

    And the 3 Mistakes I made In 3 Mistakes Of My Life
    As miraquill is my
    second home
    The first mistake
    when I came here
    and I thought
    Writersnetwork is
    a girl '-'
    Later to know they
    are a team
    Pod I used to think
    means Something Great
    till I got one or two to
    know this can make
    you famous for 2 hours
    'you'll be again empty
    womb, asking for support'
    Also this could be given
    to 2 rupees one liner
    Or to Van Gogh skies

    My greatest mistake
    here was
    when I got close to
    I was like , known by
    every individual here
    (In the limelight, Shahrukh Khan ┐( ∵ )┌)
    I started to get trust
    issues as people
    used to tag me and
    then backbite me
    in others
    comment section ರ_ರ

    And the last and
    least mistake I'm
    making at miraquill
    right now is
    by offending admins
    with my such silly
    and lame posts
    cause I'm happy
    by writing what my
    heart wants
    In the last
    'I'll read you all soon'
    Is the biggest joke
    I've ever spoken
    /Don't kill Me

    I was kidding/

  • fromwitchpen 2w

    Phew after a long time #safhaateghair

    This poem is about a person who keep sinning after asking for forgiveness, Pharaoh and Devil are trying to have a clandestine meeting with him and he shows himself as a pure person in front of people.


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    Waqf (وقف)

    Mabhoot kch yun hui hsratyn, andher hi mach gyi
    Rooh o ruwaan, firoun ke raaz m chupay, yun jali

    Samaaeen th ham, samaaeen th ham
    Or thraktay jisam th zauq ke gumbad

    Thapak k dil ko aas di, kch pal or phr maafi
    Wo chaoun jo buni th gunaho s, hai nakaafi

    Phr hwa kch yun, phr kch yun hwa k mabeen
    Zarb padi kal ko, jab bat hui bayan e haal ki

    Wo waqf hogy, anjan na ban saky apny kye s
    Wo waqf hogy, anjan na ban saky apny kye s

    Jab dar gaya dil or sach ki chinghari uthi
    Na bnda rha majazi, na ibless ki chli baazi


    Hankered-ache stunned in a way, everythin' roistered
    Soul and lint, camouflaged in secrets of Pharaoh, smouldered

    Audience we were, audience we were
    And swaying figures were cupolas of ecstasy

    Gave a hope by tapping heart, few seconds and then forgiveness
    The shadow one made by his sins, holds scantiness

    Suddenly it happened, and then something happened, among this all
    Yesterday walloped, when asked about today's statement

    Their steps halted, oblivious of their doings
    Their steps halted, oblivious of their doings

    When heart was afraid and truth flamed
    Nor man remain unreal, neither Devil's bet perennial.

  • fromwitchpen 2w

    No offense !!
    This is the truth
    And truth is hard to gulp
    or to digest :D

    And pardon me for not reading ughh, from centuries. I'm doing sastay nashay nowadays :/

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    A geometry box— colors, new books,
    hued papers, a child enter the tutelage
    of pedagogues. Crafting shapes,
    imbibing alphabets and margins marked
    at the corner of every page

    Examination, grades A to D, assignments
    science, chemistry, arithmetic equations
    the history of Rome, how atoms form
    encumbering the bags, red-line, mistakes
    corrections be in heed of educational
    precinct not for the protégé

    Molestations, abide by? Grade 7 to 10
    billingsgate or abashed in their skin
    when come to menstrual cycle or when
    puberty hits, the number of erotic-sites
    are being searched around the globe

    Coitus, a curio, a conundrum, unchaste
    elusive hearts indecipherable, pregnancy
    a joke, cause sprogs come into land from
    castles-in-the-air; brassieres or
    sanitary napkins, thusly demeaning?

    Modus operandi of Gol-roti but
    the conclusion of matrimonio, a qualm—
    unsaid, memes or not-so-cool
    advertisements on wedding night,
    unbeknownst of what love is?

    Men are debaucher and ignoble
    parents battering whippersnapper
    black and blue, his tutor, a woman
    using him in ways he don't even know
    and then he turns a rapist. Is that
    his fault?

    A woman married to an alcoholic
    old-man, works to fill stomach of her
    family but she doesn't know what kind
    of demons are waiting outside—
    A woman pummeling a conveyor on
    street for no reason, is this tolerable?

    In conclusion, all Wo(Men) are same,
    Did you ever tried to fathom what your
    opposite gender goes through?

    And a comatose silence to those
    who thinks Rutherford Atomic Model
    or Numericals can be conducive and
    skipping the reproduction chapter
    from the syllabus would be a better

    A lass bleed unfathomable of the reason
    A lad ashamed to ask the changes in his body
    A transgender who knit dreams, worse than a dog
    Trending TikTok is better than conversing about the hormonal changes

    Like falling leaves on a windy day
    Van Gogh's skies or autumn leaves
    phantasm burst the bubble of lies
    camouflaging the harshness of this

  • fromwitchpen 3w

    @vaniloquence a very happy birthday to you . Keep expressing beautiful soul <3 (ik this sucks)


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    So You Want To Know, Then Listen.

    A quill was there
    Few thoughts unparallel
    A suitcase of blossoms
    O' traitor
    I dimmed the candle
    A man came in with
    glistening moustache
    and muscles, about
    to wither
    Writhing were words
    Whispering about him
    Was he a season or a poem?
    Burnt chicken; thunder sang the dragons
    A moloch summering above daffodil bulbs
    I asked him what's the route to death, crypt
    He smirked and took a knife so close, shivers

    It was a winter eventide, cold and forlorn
    He gently took my pen and paper, inking
    I flabbergasted looked at the butterflies
    invierno-cum-inferno, his heart split up

    And then sprung the twilight of spring
    On the tapestried walls of materialistic khud
    Vaniloquence pearled into sun, set-rise
    His emotions bled black, alchemist, alcohol

    Autumn it was, he looked like a river, flee
    Or about to flow wounded orbs glumly limn
    He still beamed like a night, despitefully
    The day was gone; a vehement night knocked

    On a stranger's door who plucked it off to
    Fill his quill , kept on embellishing silence
    A poem he was, a season maybe? Deep
    He wrote his name in every weather, poet .

  • fromwitchpen 3w

    #mydearmiraquilleans #ptpt -2

    A PEN TO PEN TALK (Writersblock+Journey)
    (Here presenting the 2nd part of ptpt)
    Heyya Miraquilleans,
    Hope you all are doing well. A warm round of applause to these benignant souls for mizzling their acumen acuity of sagacity on us.
    "No journey begins without a reason there's a path that unfolds right infront of our eyes in each phase of our lives and that's what decides who we eventually become." Writing is a journey to self discovery like any other form of art one may choose to pursue.I have always felt that there's not a medium stronger than words for they can reach the darkest of depths and illuminate one's mind. My journey here on mirakee has been one of the most enriching experi ences of my life. I started out shakily two and a half years ago, apprehensive about my words and my poems but thanks to the constant support, encouragement from my fellow writers I learnt so much my vocabulary improved and soon I found my niche in the way I wrote my poems. A big thank you to all the wonderful talented writers of Mirakee.To all the newcomers, please don't get disheartened incase you feel your work isn't reaching more people just keep inking consistently. If you tag other writers do be kind enough to read their work too.We all should work together towards making mirakee a beautiful place.Gratitude goes a long way concentrate on reading as well as writing. It will help you improve your vocab and if ever you feel you need help reach out. I have witnessed such amazing poets always being hands on to help others here.Writers block is just a phase we all go through.. let it not hinder you from picking up your pen to write. I take a break when I feel that my words are waning and then get back to writing after a while.Mirakee is home to amazing talent under one roof. I feel proud to be a part of a place that has helped me evolve. Lots of love and blessings to all. Keep inking and shining.
    1- Vocabulary is important, your rich vocabulary gives a different dimension to your write-up but trying to increase the toughness, sometimes write-up becomes direction less. Sometimes simplicity gives the poetry a new and refreshing look. Try to understand the direction of your words where you want them to go and you should live with those words to turn them into metaphors.
    2- Don't push yourself so hard. A post which is your best that you think and it comes from your heart, may get a few likes or reposts. But it doesn't mean that the post is not good or anything or you have to delete it. Leave it as they're. Feel happy to read the poem again and again. Don't delete or don't feel bad.
    @/kin_jo , @/lovethatneverfades
    There is an incessant suffocation running through the mind, the character you want to write about are hungrily awaiting to get unfurl in your plots and subplots but the words seems short to sort out the actual chaos inside you and you feel numb, frustrated to write down the intricate details, meticulously describe the beautiful chaos. This is what we decribe as writers block, a lump in a throat. But patience let time pass , let the characters play a havoc in your head. I would say wait till the time they start to dance happily and play along with your mind tunes. Every writing shouldn't be just to appeal others . Writing should be for self. Be it two lines or couple words they should be to enchant our own mind. An art should be your own therapy and not just to glorify your worth. Pen down short stuff, take time, sit back and relax. For a writer words flows on its own. It cannot be borrowed or exchanged, forced or subdued. It's a creation never be created before, A masterpiece of your own.
    Miraquill, formerly mirakee is a writing paradise for many amazing writers. Everybody here have their own style of writing. Miraquill daily gives challenges and reading the participants is a real joy. We come across many unique posts on a single word, writers take the challenge in their own style. This is how I started writing here. I remember it was in Feb 2019, I first wrote on mirakee. I met many friends and some foes too. I am grateful for both. Yes, I accept the app has flaws which the owners need to think about. We, the mirakeeans are a family. When any member of the family is being troubled by miscreants, we all should take stand. No one should be left alone.There have been instances where good writers left mirakee due to no readers and no wn or mirakee reposts. Never write for appreciation, write for your satisfaction. You will get the repost one day surely. And if any of us come across a post which is really well written but has less readers, you can tag your friends there. Never fake a read. Never repost for a repost and like for a like. Give your genuine feedback. We own our words, but not the language or format of the way we write. If someone has used our vocabulary or format of writing, it doesn't mean they plagiarized. This is what learning is all about. Always give credits to the rightful owner. People plagiarise content from other social apps and think that they acted very smart. These people are not only deceiving mirakeeans but also their own self. When you come across plagiarized posts, do report it to the respective authority. Coming to me, I don't count myself in the list of some of the amazing writers here. I am more of a reader than a writer who randomly scribbles without a specific genre. My heartful thanks to every individual who supported and encouraged me and also to the one who strive keep the title of this place "paradise" intact. . A special thanks to Carolyn madam for handling her responsibility amazingly well ��.
    @/heartsease , @/the_frozen_heart
    I've seen many people asking about tips for writing, to be honest I never had any, I was just a messed up mind who wandered here and discovered a way to express myself. For me every person is a writer just the way of organising words differ from one mind to another. The only thing I could ask is NEVER GIVE UP SO EASILY, whether it's writing or crossing arduous situation, think that you're a butterfly and a butterfly shall always know how to fly high after breaking a tough cocoon. The most important thing is to not to stop your inspiration and reading habit. They say lohe ko loha katata hai same way I feel writer's block can be overcome by writing or it can be along observations plus imaginations. Observing nature specifically and absorbing peace do help me some times. Sometimes taking break is okay or feeling writers block just spend some time with your own self for they say, "a moon can wait whole day to be illuminated in the darkness of night, without realising about the power of light it holds throughout". When life build walls around you and leave you to wither, Miraquill is a home for salvation and hope to mend your crashed feathers.
    1. Read as much genres as I can. Variety is the spice that lets me stay in touch with different types of writings.
    2. I like to explore and hate repetition, so in writing also, I don't stick to something for long. I alternate different methods, at least I try.
    3. I only write when I feel like writing, no forced writes. If I feel bored, I read more and if not I do other crafts.
    4. Even though I read lots of books, and in here Mirakee too I read many writers here
    - i get inspired by themes and topics but I try to present it in my own way.
    5. I am still not sure what my type of writing is, I just write what I feel, and it varies from time to time.
    For me mostly I felt writer's block whenever I'm high on negative emotions it happens mostly either we feel depressed, lack of inspiration, something personal trauma or anything and it happens but what I did everytime is:
    1. I never stopped reading even though I couldn't scribble. When you read different emotions you relate to them and it worked Everytime for me as a catalyst for relieving from the writer's block and put my emotions into words.
    2. Expressing is first and foremost rather than thinking about how it will be when you put the last full stop. Let your heart ooze whatever it's holding and I'm sure we have oceans of emotions every second to paint the whole sky with different colours.
    3. Writing is just like a stream of emotions like that of water it takes the shape of wherever it gets its path even the rocks can't stop it over a period of time it makes its passage so don't bind yourself into shackles of genres, figures of speeches ( Which I have done unknowingly ��) or anything, just let yourself bloom in all dimensions of this paradise and you'll yourself see the magic hidden inside you.

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    I guess the best thing during the Writer's block phase is to take a break as it helps in refreshing your mind. What I do is I read so that one or the other thing might help me in getting some ideas. Or else talking to your near and dear ones too is a great help. But what I've realised recently that one can find ideas even in the most weirdest of situations. So don't worry, it's just a phase, it too will get over. But never quit writing.
    @/inked_selenophile , @/mooniememer
    1. Try reading your old poems, grab the thoughts or words and reframe a new poetry. Usually, when I am on Block I try this technique. I either hunt thoughts or words and I reframe a new poem! It might sound silly but trust me, it will turn out satisfactorily!
    2. Read, Read, Read. Read as much as you can and try writing a viewpoint about it! Or else you can try something other than your usual way of writing even this helps you to get rid of the block!
    Happy writing ♡☽
    1.Whenever you feel stuck start with some easy /fav prompts, write even a small piece initially without bothering for vocabs or metaphors or anything. Just write and it would surely help you.
    2. Read others. This is simple but actually very motivating in every sense reading others can pull you out of fear and improve your skills too.
    3.Don't rush at all.After you start writing after a long break or in between writers block sometimes you Don't write satisfactory enough. You might end up making literally a khichdi of thoughts but don't rush keep on trying. The best one will come eventually.
    4.collab with others. In some case collaborating and discussing stuffs could push you to write. It would help you to gain back your momentum too.
    5.A silly one but avoid taking much long break from writing if you can. Breaking up consistency eventually causes wb and catching up the pace would always be a bit difficult task. :)
    Writersblock hits different, and there are many culprits, suprisingly each culprit is unique. The words are right there in your head but it's all jumbled, it's tough. I would suggest you to as read as much as you can. Because if you stop reading and stare at the blank page to write. You'll get more and more stuck. So don't give up on reading. Next try and start to write. You fingers can still move, right? So keep writing even when it's not your best. Don't disappear. Try writing in different techniques and languages, it really helps. Try taking part in prompts, it'll keep you going. And remember you don't have to be complicated or super weighty with the words. It's okay. We're all humans.
    I joined this family through my friend I didn't knew anyone here. This was just an app for me, but after sometime due to the support and love I got from you all this app isn't mere an app but my family. My life was like a paper boat floating alone on water under moonshine. I joined miraquill and found my way. I'm not a perfect writer, just a simple girl who loves to write everything, who loves to share feelings through writing. I deleted my first account due to some personal problem. But I literally missed everyone and opened another account. Yes sometimes I think this family is changing day by day. I think to leave this. But I literally can't. Some people leave this app because they don't get much support and attention.I really feel bad for them, I can't bring them back.But one thing I wanna say is plz spread love here instead of hurting anyone try to correct each other, family means care.Don't leave this app for the reason you don't get pods, ec, much followers or likes.If you don't get these doesn't mean you don't write well. You should be satisfied with your write ups.
    Take a nap. Put your phone aside. Swarm up the stairs as of you can conquer a mountain. Inhale. Exhale. Look at the sky' count the number of tries a bird makes in a day to strive. Clasp few roses shower their fragrance upon your soul, relax. Pick the quill (feather) you found abandoned dip it in the canvas of nature –the thin line betwixt pain and emotions. Remember the cold showers you had when you were depressed, the gigglemug of a child which made your lèvres curl —Catastrophic ebbs and combers of life. Swallow the shades of solitude. Write what your heart wants.
    -Vocabulary is like salt in your write-ups. Have to be sprinkled in a equilibrium. To enhance your range of words learn 5 new words daily. And use them in your writings for few days. It'll help you alot.

    |(Meme)orial |

    •When writer's block encroaching me like in streets in Indian markets and the next morning at 9:00 AM Miraquill comes with an interesting prompt like a bulldozer
    Le* Mirakee to writer's block
    'Tumse na ho payega'
    •when your posts gets a repost during writersblock phase,
    Le*writers- kbhi kbhi Igta apunich bhgwan h.
    •Nobody :
    Literally nobody :
    Not a single person on this earth :
    Absolute no one :
    Not even my mom :
    Ultra Pro Max Spammers here :- 'Hey, you write amazing. Would you like to take part in our anthology?'
    •People returning to miraquill with new IDs be like: 'Arey deewano, mjhy pehchano, kaha s aaya, m hun kon?'
    •Do you think you can be in writer's block??
    when you have miraquill ke prompts.
    •Newbies -Miraquill is a writing app. I will write 10 posts continuously to rule miraquill
    Le experienced mirakeeans-
    Yes absolutely,
    *in discover section*
    •when you come back from a long break and gets a repost sometimes even pod. Writers to miraquill - miraquill bhai tum bhut mast kam krta hai *hugs*.
    •Miraquill giving two pods and deleting one
    Le writersnetwork* apse better umeed kye th ham (not reposting that pod)
    •Miraquilleans in the comment section*
    - hey wordsmith, hey Shakespeare, hey ghalib, hey dhinchak Pooja (the most sweetest ones)
    -I'm from Aeumrica an anthologeuere would you want to be part of our anthology? (Ni matlab ye alag hi dhndha chlrha h)
    -Mera life barbad hogya h pichlay 48 ghntay s wn n mjhy repost ni dia.
    -beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
    -xD , :) , ^_^, *_*, :(, is s zyada no compliment).
    •Bhaiya writing app dekhana
    (Bhaiya) mirakee
    Thoda saste m dekhana
    (Bhaiya) miraquill
    Old writers to new writers,
    Beta ek wqt th jb hm bh ghreeb hwa krty th
    Le writersnetwork to new writers,
    25 din m crorepati banounga

    [Thank you so much @/mooniememer @/_astitva_ @/shadowofthoughts and @/puranidiary for participating in (meme)orial]
    Note: If you want to take part in upcoming ptpt's comment below 'yes'.

  • fromwitchpen 4w

    Home - Un(noticed)

    2:30 pm

    Hypnotizing hope and chastising the
    shaft of torpefied palabras,
    A glimmering gibbous crooked and
    cocooned itself in fronds of shahtoot.

    Awe-inspiring the veranda was,
    at every step opened a door of poems
    and musings,
    I made my way out when a staircase
    of incomparable intellect
    and admirable canvas of metaphors
    morphed my eyes into stardust

    ~I still can't comprehend why a poetry-city invited my unnoticed quill to etch its welkin with ribbons and it welcomed me with rose-smoked-chimneys. I feel home in her unnoticed but profound verses.

    5:00 pm

    And my soul floated towards the
    ashed islet
    where a columbarium of lisped
    consonants peppered preponderance,
    in distinct dialects; vernacular

    smelted summer , a subtle stain
    of syllables
    he fossilized into a masterpiece
    flawlessly I ran away—
    from that poet who blow mistral and
    kept the klutzy synonyms to bake
    sublime synecdoche

    ~An evident hex mesmerized me and mysteries unfold as an unnoticed mistral, draped the saffron suffixes and crafted a cosmos of profound lexicons.

    At 00:00

    Cupcakes, crowded tables
    forks, stearinlys
    a rhombic chaplet of thoughts
    Poets – quills
    emotions – papers
    inkpots – feathers
    birthdays – episodes
    poetry – tranquility

    Crocheting cloudscape on one's palm
    my alarm clock intonated,

    'Time, farewells' forevers
    what remained unnoticed?
    Mayhap thou
    -unnoticed home, thine incomplete poésies ; carve them before thy last sunset.'

    @maestral @poetrycity a very happy birthday to you beautiful souls, stay blessed! Pardon my mere effort . I tried to write something for you.
    Cakes and chocolates ( ◜‿◝ )♡

    #unnoticed '-"

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    'Time, farewells' forevers
    what remained unnoticed?
    Mayhap, thou...

    -unnoticed home, thine incomplete poésies ; carve them before thy last sunset.'

  • fromwitchpen 4w

    Train of her life consist of 26 couchettes, cessate in a warren of poems

    Daughter of Autumn
    Anguished allegories are ambling
    on the alcove of aestheticism where
    aubergines of artistry are amaranthine
    to ablaze the alliterative arms of an
    artist whose art is atoned of autumnal
    autographs and asteroids

    Ballerina: Her sċōh‎ pirouettes stories
    Backyard, her braids ballyhooed
    as bullions where begonias and
    bergamot boohoo for blue birds
    who burgeons the benign boats
    of breeze to boogie beneath the
    ballet boots

    Celebration of Existence
    Caked up countenance carved the
    chapters concomitantly with coffins
    chock-a-block with creases and the
    campfire creating a collision betwix'
    consonants and candent candles
    chorusing to cook a cake of clay

    Diaries: Draped Dreams
    Decorating the dale with dreams
    dwindling dreamcatchers awaits
    for a dilemma dated as a day of
    dainty daffodils which delineate
    dauntless diaries

    Entitling Hope in Mystic Orbs
    Entropically, enslaved eyes
    erupting an eventide encased
    in eerie and enthralling ellipses
    engraving evanescence in

    Faded: Freckled Fountains
    Faint forenoon, flickering flowers
    with flakes' frost and flames of
    fermented fuchsia unto the fluffy
    figs of forbearance

    Gifting Ghazals to Gloominess
    Gyrating gulmohars gigglemugs
    to goldilocks gaping at the goose
    of gaiety glittering the grampuses
    with glossaries to gnaw glee and

    Huckery: Honeyed hearts
    Hail on the heartbreaks and
    hopscotch the hinged halls of
    happiness hovered to hop the
    heaven's heart

    A haiku to invite Matsuo Basho
    Imbroglio irises ignify an
    impressive iconographic
    iota of imagination impact
    the iced-isle to innate inked
    isochronic illusions

    Wrong Way: Jumbling Cobblestones
    Jingle-bells in the jocund
    jungle where jests join the
    January journals with the
    jacketed joy

    To Find Home
    Known or (un)known
    kalopsia where Kafkaesque
    kimos and kites knead klit
    to be known of kindness

    Love: Dead Bones
    Love a lustre luring loom,
    lanterning the lilies and lost
    in lust limping like a laurette
    to live with the lanky lime of
    longevity, looting land-lamps

    Carriage of Beauty
    Moon miles away map to
    mysterious moonscapes
    morphing mornings to
    mourned meadows

    Nights: Awoken by Similes
    Nymph noticing a night
    netted with noons nestled
    nape of nostalgic nefarious

    Myths Oohed with Plights
    Oompahed the ottoman owl
    oolongs omnipresent the
    offed omens obfuscating
    the odds

    Poets: Crocheting Sentiments
    Ponds were prepossessed
    with poems and pauses
    painting a poignant penumbra
    of phantoms and phantasm

    Quest of Metaphors
    Quill or quietude
    mayhap quenched the quixotic
    queries quipping the questionnaire
    with quick qualms

    Rendezvous: Bus of Nihility
    Red or roses
    the rainbows so rhombic
    rural or reckon to
    routes and rooms
    rare or real ?

    Spring will Arrive
    Soon the sun will set
    the stars scintillate with
    sombre shade or may naught
    shrink the subfusc syllables

    Tinge of Death
    Train will tootle
    to turn or take off the track
    toast and toss the tyres
    trembled trespassers
    tasting twilight to be
    trapped under the table

    Utopia: Feuillemort
    Umbra of urchins will
    be umbrellas to unreal
    and umbrageous urns
    are ubiquitous

    Voice or whimpers?
    Virgins now vaping
    with vantablack veracity
    to vamoose away from
    the vulnerable vamps

    Wicked: Winters
    Woolen windows and
    warm waning gibbous
    wagered the waffles
    whistling above the
    welkin of writhing

    And Xylophones were
    xeroxing the xerophytes
    to form xenial in xeric

    Yawning yesterdays
    and yawps of yestermorrows
    yin yang to each other
    at yonder where young
    yammers are yielding

    Conclusion: Silence
    Zapping zeroes out from
    zeitgeist zombies of zeal
    zinc to zippered zawn

    A poetess lived 26 lives while travelling through a train, with each passenger she met, a new curtain of life unfolds for her. She progressed till the 26th passenger later to remember, she wasn't counted as one of them. But, she is the lost part or lesson they learned while they suspire in the tunnel of mockery, she was their muse, a hidden poet they never knew existed in themselves. She is a voice to their silence.
    PS. Each part expounds the thought of a passenger.

    @safflower You are that person who always glittered love and warmth in this place. Thank you so much for everything , for giving me a shoulder in this moving train . A very happy birthday to you :-) stay happy . Love .

    @writersnetwork Thank you so much team for supporting me in my ups and downs *-* unexpected.

    #tautogram #hyperbole mayhap !

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    Two words, a verse, few papers smudged with those footsteps which saunter on broken pebbles of love when the train whistles adieus and hiraeth smoke out wrenched poets,
    finding hope in the cracks of their souls.
    |•poetry, a womb of light •|