Miraquill
I wish we could stop fearing losing people.
You lose them anyway. I wish we could enjoy more the presence then wailing over the absence.
Khadija Chughtai
khadijachughtai
www.instagram.com/cornucopiaofwords/
of all the people I have lost, I miss myself the most
Grid View
List View
Reposts
-
-
khadijachughtai
4d
Read MoreMurphy is my kitten and he recently got sick. I am worried for him but hopeful for his recovery ��
#tod #pod #postcard #writersnetworkDear Murphy!
I had a life before you but with you it's happier and better.
Please get well soon.
Much Love and hugs ❤️
Khadija Chughtai -
I have outgrown
many of my fears
and things
that are unavailable
I have outgrown
the toxic beahviours
and demanding situations
where its hard to cope
I have outgrown
not just my old clothes
but more than that
my fragile soul
to get along life
I changed alot
hence I can not believe
in stillness anymore
Khadija Chughtai -
khadijachughtai
1w
Read More
It never becomes easy and acceptable once you are abandoned by people who promised to stay.
#pod #tod #writersnetwork #writerstolli #heartwhat a lovely sight
it once was
now ramshackled
and about to fall
deserted by the dwellers
whose promises echo in its broken walls
Khadija Chughtai // O'my heart -
getting accustomed to the change
makes you less afraid and more brave
Khadija Chughtai -
khadijachughtai
2w
Read More
who are we to decide
this should or shouldn't be the life
when for some it's painfully haunted
and when some may badly want it
I saw a child with lost limbs
but the lines on his face weren't grim
his life may not be as sweet
but there was still a heartbeat
he was still a person
equipped with patience
not just a crippled
but a hope for his loved ones
I watched a person who lost a friend
he suffered as if it was the end
In colors of life he couldn't blend
he lost much time but it was too late to amend
we all have different timelines and definitions
of tragedies and celebrations
our own unique sense
of pain and compassion
but as long as there is life
we ought to fill it with gratitude and light
کسی کی آنکھ سے آنسو جو ٹپکا
کِسی کا تشکر ،کسی کا دِل تڑپا تھا
کہیں بےبسی ،کہیں حسرت
کہیں ان کہا ایک شکوہ سا
کسی کے درد کا نچوڑ
کسی کا ایک حسین لمحہ تھا
تمہاری آنکھوں نے یقین سے جو پڑھا
وہ مگر غلط بھی ہو سکتا تھا
#pod #tod #writersnetwork #gratitudewe all have different definitions
of tragedies and celebrations
our own unique sense
of pain and compassion
Khadija Chughtai -
when asked to write a synonym
for 'purest of the love'
she instantly lifted up her pen
and wrote down 'mother'
Khadija Chughtai -
you took me with you
nothing else explains my absence
Khadija Chughtai -
I didn't lose friends when they were leaving one by one. I gained more space to breathe without having to explain my doings to a curious lot.
Khadija Chughtai // perspective -
khadijachughtai
4w
Read More
Beware of who is your well wisher and who is a manipulator. You may only learn this lesson after multiple disappointments.
#pod #tod #writersnetworkwith time
It gets clearer
who was on your side
to be your shelter
or who was using you
as their own protector
who was holding your hand
just to keep you in control
and after realization
if you choose to walk away
you are the one
who they think betrayed
Khadija Chughtai
-
preetkanwal
5w
Read More#spiderweb #miraquill #writersnetwork
Thank you so much for the kind repost @writersnetwork
Thanks a bunch for POD @miraquill
You made my day,totally unexpectedIn my darkest moments of life
when heart agonizes over nothingness
mind weaves web of soulful verses
a mosaic of emotions out of emptiness.
©preetkanwal18.04.2022 -
kanikachugh
30w
Read MoreI touched 30
2 years ago
this day.
Age-shaming much?
No way!!
it's the media and ads
that live in a fearful world,
so they scare others too.
But the questions deserving
perfect eye-rolls and facepalms
always stand in a hungry queue
"Oh! You are 30 something?
you look so young."
Someone please tell them.
"Darling, 30 is young"
"Why you aren't getting married?"
Why, because ring in my fingers
and a toddler on my waist
is the only way
to complete me?
Sorry to have a bubble bursted
but I'm not society's
Life planning math workbook
or biological ticking bomb
that defines my worth
by following some bully timelines.
I wore a cape of womanhood
after so many frostbitten scuffles
and relentless struggles
that now it graces my flesh and bones.
that's quite enough to be the last
piece of my life's puzzle.
Journey of a
timid 6-year-old
trying to identify
her father
in a star, he said
he would look it
down from there,
to becoming a woman
who saw her
mother churning herself
and tending to her lost kid
with 3 shifts under her wing;
All this unchained a treasure
I don't ever want to part with.
My twenties
were a wastral
in terms of people
I invested in.
I let my
innocence and
ignorance turn
alarming snoozes
into blazing red flags
of friendship
that assassinated
my self-confidence.
But, now I know
leaving toxicity
while it swirl
in a whirlpool
of blame games,
is not just okay
but a sign of
strength; of not
justifying self
for the smallest things.
I am finally
In a better place
mentally, psychologically, financially
yet they want to find a manicured
other-half to see me 'settled'.
They say the world is changing
I'd say it always changes
but on the surface
because they don't dare dip themselves
amidst broken layers of depth,
so ignorantly, add some
'must(s)' in a women's life.
I know It's the smallest feat
but if you ask me
I am proud I got to know myself.
I know what I am now
I know what I want
My passion dances on
my eyeballs with a clear vision.
I don't feel like that rusty
old book at the corner of the shelf
no one picks up to read, anymore.
I am that freshness
of a newly opened
pickle jar that
instantly fills the surrounding
with its aroma.
I'm now the potpourri
of self- reliance I learned
over the past years
and the kindness
I had been carrying
since the childhood.
I'm those 32 no stones left unturned
whose efforts made
people get inspired.
Believe me,
there is no expiration date
to learn something new
I have accepted the fact
It's not easy finding
metaphors for self
while I blacken the white
pages with their praises,
accomplishments, triumphs.
But from now onwards
I'd audaciously
write about my self
because no one writes
about the writers
and I'm here to
break the wheel.
At last, if you want to
sway with yourself
listen to
"It's hard to be a woman"
From Something in the Rain ��
I am just attracted to that song.
©kanikachugh
#happybirthday #tome
Thank you WN ❤️ and all you guys. I mean you people, literally are jewels ����
I'm gonna come back and reply to each one of you. Thanks again ��Happy Birthday
To me
-
_yaish 30w
Read More#haynaku#wod#miraquill#writersnetwork
@writersnetwork
Feelings of all lifeless poets��Hay(na)ku
Poets
soul smells
like rotten poetry.
Bleeds
unrhymed euphoria
of dead syllables.
Croon
melancholic melody
of deceased verses.
©_yaish -
under the streetlight,
I met a shadow of poetry
which was standing alone
and facing the storms of
stained heartbreaks.
From a bad poet || bidya -
Sometimes it becomes so difficult to decipher your feelings. The anxiety crawls up your head late at night and overthinking starts singing lullabies in your ears. Your self assumptions dancing inside your chest and pulling the wrong chords of your heart. They trick both your mind and heart, making you believe all those lies that don't even exist. And when confusion joins them the demons which are resting peacefully under your bed wake up and start patting your head. The negativity starts biting you at places where it hurts the most and the dilemmas add fuel to the fire by licking it off. You don't know where to go and whom to talk to in order to get rid of this exasperation. So you clutch your pillow, bury your face and yell. You yell until these demons become deaf with your screams. You cry until your tears soaked eyes become dry. You cry until your mind gets exhausted and unable to think anything. You cry until you get the clear picture of what to do next.
©blue_lemon_writes -
queen_butterfly
34w
Read More#haiku #deadlilac
2 ECs?! Thank you so much��❤️
Thank you for the read WN❤️
Happy today~23 Sep, 2021.amazing sky light
of this evening's night, tonight
sun fades lovely bright
©queen_butterfly -
branthan
36w
Read MoreLife is becoming a shadow of a continuum. The beginning and the end are miles apart, yet it feels so mundane with the tick of a clock. Light scatters aimlessly around the room, skipping the dusty corners as if the eyes should be kept away from the horrors of it all. How can you comprehend the beauty of the world when you cannot see the ugliness lurking in the shadows where the lights failed to touch.
How can you trust a person's feeling when the feeling itself has no validity outside of the internal model of reality that the brain creates for them? It is changing, more often than the seasons that fall upon them.
I wonder when the rain will stop falling, you never know when it's going to drown you to the depths or when it's going to remind you of a familiar touch that you are missing in the cold of a night. There are always memories that we've buried deep inside, waiting for a downpour to bloom. You are unsure what to make of certain feelings, especially those that visit you late at night when the world gets quiet for a while, except the endless rambling of rain.
We are running around trying to be accepted by one group or another, not because of an internal identity we perceive as self, but a mere evolutionary need to belong somewhere. Who are we, if not this continuous computation that takes us from one place to another, till it all starts to decay like everything else?
Like a broken twig in a decaying tree that looks at the dwindling dusk, you know how it ends, but you hope that it survives the fall.
I belong in an era that I can barely remember; I was born so long ago. My own existence is alien to me, a paradox that I cannot wrap my head around. Sense of time is in dismay, the night and day separated by the few hours that you passed out on the couch. What matters the most, the moments or the regrets that follow them?
Invisible strings connect us, strong enough that you can feel the warmth of another but fragile enough to leave you astray. Like stars, worlds apart, but in the same path with another, delicate enough to get thrown into the endless darkness.
I wish I knew how to write, so endlessly as the thoughts that light up when you walk into the neon lights-filled cafe and fall for a stranger's gaze; every line and word entwined to make you feel something.
Some eyes can make you fall, sometimes a smile, sometimes a warmth on a cold winter night, sometimes words, words that fall from your head to your lips on lonely nights. And sometimes, gravity, you cannot help it but fall.
Art is what art makes you feel. We don't know what reality looks like, all the simple set of rules beyond our reach. All we know is this story that we keep telling ourselves, every moment becoming part of a casual lineage, getting stacked on top of each other, waiting to be opened up again in a late-night conversation. Abstractions of a world, little things that we've seen and felt on a long walk, lips that sink into yours like a sunset, the way waves washed your feet, whispers of the wind, and its kisses that remind you of someone. Every cliche moment somehow becomes so personal, becomes a part of you that you look back and smile, a sense of melancholy in the chaos.
We are stories that we tell ourselves, words, and lines that meet under the starry night. And, like Van Gogh, we dream about the world beyond its mundane structures that feel so disconnected.
"Once upon a time, I, Chuang Tzu, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of following my fancies as a butterfly and was unconscious of my individuality as a man. Suddenly, I awoke, and there I lay, myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming that I am a man."
-Chang Tzu
@writersnetwork @miraquillWe are stories that we tell ourselves, words, and lines that meet under the starry night. And, like Van Gogh, we dream about the world beyond its mundane structures that feel so disconnected.
d.t -
search_sree
36w
Read MoreOnce when I was young
I built a Sand castle
With iris of dreams
And pupil of fire!
Once when I was young
I was dumb
Was shy to express myself openly
Was a crybaby to prove myself correctly
Once when I was young
I wasn't aware of society
Thus I lived,loved,treasured
Every moment breezily
Once when I was young
I screeched at dad for toys
And yelled at mom for delicious dishes
Though poked my sis multiple times
Yet none scolded me nor punished me
Once when I was young
My life was glittered by lil happiness
Love was pure enough within me
Anger was a momentary action
Once when I was young
Bike rides with dad
Cooking in the kitchen with mom
Backbiting about sis to dad
This was the life
Once when I was young
My Mind was filled with smart thoughts
Tongue was scriptured with fair words
Ears which only allowed positive vibes
Body was wrapping up a pure soul!
Tqq for the like ❤️ @writersnetwork
#once #wodOnce
Once when I was young
Was curious to know about everything
Was enthusiastic to achieve anything
Was reckless of being injured
Was venturesome to try something new!
Once when I was young
At times I asked to myself
When would I grew up?
Now I often ask myself
When will I go back to my ownself(young times)!
©search_sree -
Every day of the week
beneath the scent of the romantic night sky,
I metaphorically whisper about you to the moon,
asking it to weave
unfinished verses in my heart.
©inked_selenophile -
What good is a thought
if it doesn’t grow wings
and escape my mind?
