Miraquill
how often do you
care about yourself
as you do about others?
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sometimes you feel like
there's nothing to love
and to be loved, when
you lost all the hopes
of loving again, because
you know it would feel
amazing at the start but
eventually you will end
up worrying, thinking
about how well you
lived in peace before.
nivya -
THINGS I DIDNT SAY AT ALL
i never said out loud
that i want to be loved,
not like the short lasting
day that has time running
without knowing, but like
the time that never runs fast.
i never said out loud
that i want to be valued,
more than all the joy
you had, more that all
the stones you own.
i never said out loud
that my back hurts,
when i sit up too straight
for many hours, more focused
than more noticeable.
i never said out loud
that im terrified about
the day you will leave me,
when i will have no one
except me, to stand up
and say, "i knew this was coming"
i never said out loud
that loving a dog is more
fine than loving a human
because i never wanted to
value a dog more than i
valued you.
i never said out loud
that im afraid of my mother's
age, just like the sunflowers
that eventually wilt.
i never said out loud
that i love fights.
n i v y a -
nivyaangelin
3w
i must tell you many times
that your place brought me
my childhood back that i
lost as soon as i turned
an adult.
i must tell you that
the travel brought
me aroma of my
old memories along
with the air blushing
through my skin.
i must tell you that
your balcony brought
me nostalgia of me
playing hide and seek
in my childhood.
i must tell you that
after coming back,
i felt like i wasted
my life on worrying
about things, not
knowing how to enjoy,
not aware of the joy
that you can
bring to me.
i must tell you that
your place brought
me the urge to stay
there a little bit more,
some more time in
my childhood,
some more time in
my past, some more
time with you.
that would be wrong
if i didn't tell you,
i enjoyed the best
in a little time,
that i wish it to
come back, that i
wish to stay there
some more time,
like, forever !
n i v y a -
of all seasons,
and weathers,
i love it when
sun shines
peeping from
the clouds and
and the rain
pours down
simultaneously.
i love the after
rain weather,
that washes my
face with wind
while we go
fast piercing the
air in a two wheeler.
i love the weather
when it's dark and
cold and dizzy.
i love it even
more when we ride
through it. i love it
when we make
excuses to make
the ride wholesome
and beautiful.
i love it when we
get a little wet,
i love it when you
ask for another
ride and i love it
when we make
that happen
once again.
n i v y a -
nivyaangelin
4w
Read More
#writersbay #writersnetwork #comboc #mother
@writersnetwork @writersbay
mayhem, demolition, archivesmy mother's tongue lies
dead in the field of colonial
sunflowers.
the fact she forgot what
i was wearing in the morning,
made me feel unnoticed.
i sometimes cry over
how fast her hair is greying,
at first, in the front,
then at the back.
but she still seems young
in my eyes until my friends
tell me that her face gained
wrinkles.
i look at her eyes now,
for it's getting milky
and how she puts her glasses
on for every little thing i show.
i know everything ages,
but she is different.
i never see her age quickly
but people do.
i do not want to accept their
views about how my mom
is aging.
but she lives forever,
in the heart of mine,
physically for next
30 years i hope to be
the truth that im writing
without crying.
but she lives forever,
in the life that she gave me,
which she wanted !
but she lives forever,
in everything that
is inside me, in my
bones and skin.
she lives forever,
in the hope that
she'll take care of me
like she always does.
n i v y a -
i might need to end it right here,
when i started to feel like
im getting addicted. But i don't really want to.
Of all the seasons, i love
the autumn where something
somewhere sheds to
have something somewhere bloom.
i hope we are not making this
awkward and temporary.
i hope we make this till end,
unlike the short lasting summer.
i hope we talk things over and
over again like the trees that grow forever.
i know i should have ended this lately.
But im so excited to see what
it feels like in the last. i hope we don't
end this until destiny has to.
nivya -
start with
the things
they told
you don't
deserve -
i am a person
who sinks in
bottomless dark,
and smiles like
i've never met water -
nivyaangelin
6w
you are the jewellery
i proudly wear
upon my eager neck
that only make
people think
we're something
-
milliondreamsarekeepingmeawake
3w
Read More#thingsyousaid under the stars sitting on the grass
I skipped the epilogue calligraphed with heartbreaks with a hope to abort the fetus of departure growing inside my womb, with the will to blindfold my eyes to avoid the glimpse of that cursed gloom . Oh how wrong i was ! I am dweller of Pacific coast of aches how could i escape from tsunamigenic earthquakes of betrayal.
I was baptizing our love bookmarking hope inside the pages of arrival of spring, when you were sowing the seeds of sins under the skin of trust , inking your chest with the peonies, poisoned with deception. Oh how stupid i was ! I forgot every spring has its autumn . Pardon me my optimistic glasses often blur the paths of despair without which i am blind corpse under the roof of anxiety.
Things you said under the stars sitting on the grass were the spells you had casted to rupture the ribcage of love while i was searching for a castle for our pledges within the stars and you were longing for another ephemeral setting sun . Oh how pathetic night i was ! I was trying to kiss the burning sun with my frozen lips coating my soul with camphor. Pardon me i begged for enormous universe of warmth to confine it inside the tiny home of my heart.
After long winters your words are still echoing in my ears , your endeavours to choke me on your adieus, concealing the contentment of your ferocious desire still barricading my vision. And I am puffing out pain whispering " ahh this cruel summer." After six summers I am lingering on the sentence " I hope she likes her" , humming and hawing to pronounce the sentence " I do."
©milliondreamsarekeepingmeawake
Thank you so much @writersnetwork �� finally you came . Ily��I am ensnared inside the maze of memories where death is the door to emancipation.
~jennie -
Things you said too quietly
felt like a few dew drops in
my ears, splash of the truth
deceived my loyalty amplifying
the sound of fears
©anirockz7 -
_infinity_writer_
83w
Read MoreHate to miss you, wrote it for Raksha Bandhan when i didn't have mirakke...
#hatetomissyou #brother #sister #siblings #brothersisterlove❤️ #marriage #missyou #siblinglove #siblinggoals #brosisbond #brosisfights #doodlesofinstagram #rakshabandhan #familylove❤️ #rakhi #idoits #dorks #supportivepartner #doodle_art #elderbrother #eldersister #youngerbrother #youngersister #shoveltalk #writer #writings #stayhome #staysafe #writersofinstagram #writerscommunityHate to miss you
She looks so beautiful
He thought to himself. she never looked this good before. How did she become so beautiful??. He smiled to himself. Is it because she’s getting married?? is it because she’s gonna be with the guy she loved the most??
" Does she look like a girl now? " his thoughts were interrupted by her husband. "She looks like a women" he said. "Wow! that would be a high praise coming from you according to her" told her husband. "don’t tell her. Her ego is already the size of her head" he laughed. "tell her. she would be happy" told her husband and left.
" Ok ok i look like a male chimpanzee dressed up in human female clothes and they did plastic surgery to hide everything blah blah blah..." she told when she came in front of him. Oh you are a chimpanzee he wanted to say. "You look like a Queen" he said instead. Evey fight for remote, front seat of the car, window seat, chocolates and last piece of pizza falshed through their eyes.
"Well" her eyes welled up. Her voice broke when she spoke, "you look like a king whose marrying of his sister to another kingdom" she smiled, teary eyed. " don’t cry and ruin your plastic surgery. everyone will she your chimpanzee face" the brother laughed a broken laugh. "it was tough to find a guy for you. don’t scar him of so soon" he said.
This is it. No more fights for food; no slapping each other randomly; no stealing chocolates; no blackmails, This is it. He thought. " Go, chimpanzee, go and stick to your husband. Your classmates are watching and i want to look cool.not.some dork" the brother told the sister.
She slapped him and hugged, " i hate you and you will never get none of my friends and you look like an idiot which by the way you are" 'i love you and you look so cool that some of my friends are drooling over you and you are the best’. He translated in his mind and smiled to himself. "I am so cool and you are an idiot and by the way i hate you too" he hit her head and said
"you both are dorks" her husband laughed at them from behind. "take care and be careful of her" the brother said with a teasing smirk i her way. She gave a mock glare and walked to meet her friends.
"I will take care of her and be careful that i don't hurt her in anyway to earn your warth" the husband said. "I know language of dorks" the husband laughed at the stun faced brother. "She's gonna miss you tho" husband said.
I’m gonna miss her too...
©_infinity_writer_ -
writersbay
4w
The only lasting beauty
Is the beauty of the heart
-Rumi -
miraquill
4w
Read MoreOne ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
--Today, write a poem or quote starting with "One ought, every day at least..."--
Tag with #start and share.
#wodStart
Which good habit you would like to add in your daily routine? Comment below.
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love_whispererr
7w
Read MoreTHIRTEEN SEASONS OF MY METAPHORS : TERMS AND CONDITIONS MAY APPLY
1.AGNOSTHESIA
More often, i would like to be an unforgettable poetry of your hidden diary who neither chews the inglorious dust of summer nor scrutinized by the shuffled snowflakes of winter. But that diary always tugs at those gunshots of last August where your last kiss did smell like the departure and you caged that night's essence within that diary through bloodstains but named them as metaphors.
I would like to be that final essence where those buttercups withered and you were standing alone under a sycamore holding a grey ashtray. And a stray dog was looking at the ashtray wagging his tail , might be looking for some hamburgers. But the ashtray couldn't satisfy the hunger. Still those buttercups did clasp someone's silences and another one's disappointments.
I would like to be that last farewell where your metaphors announced their existence and buttercups went the way all flesh inside the ashtray. I would like to taste those silences, to melt within your warmth and to gnaw someone's coldness. And less often, I'd like to be that coldness where teardrops breathe behind the veil pretty well.
~of knowns, unknowns and silences || bidya
Agnosthesia-(noun) the state of not knowing how you really feel about something
#like #wod #13metaphorsbybidya
Thank you so much @writersnetwork ��.
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i speak fluently, but when it comes to you,
language is miraculously short and sometimes stilted.
i don't have the power to harness the wind. nor do i have the power to sculpt a god out of your mistakes and kneel it before you but i've written you sonnets down in my basement, crying. i've borrowed words from someone else's grief and called it mine because i don't know how to be sorry for breathing life into you anymore.
i speak five languages, and sometimes there are no words left to describe the ache straining my bones and skimming my blood. i've become an empty shrapnel. you've licked all the goodness inside of me, your tongue scorched the wings off my back but they've not yet invented a word for your cruelty.
i think i've had a broad vocabulary for justifying your wrongs. for blaming myself on your behalf, like an unspoken prayer. they say language can divide us inside. it helps us misunderstand each other better, i say, find a fault in me and you say, "you love me." i don't, but out of habit i say, "i do." i do. ' -
roshnisharma 10w
Read MoreI don't actively miss you.
I don't actively miss you, but you do pop up in my head once or twice a day, especially when I am alone, having conversations with myself that I used to have with you.
I have substituted your presence with an entire list - people that take me to my happy place better than you ever could - yet there are times I want those people to melt together and become you, so I can sit down with you once more and laugh.
I don't actively miss you, but a random color or shape sometimes takes me back to arguments had on rooftops where we were closer to the sky, which we sometimes pretended was still water that we just liked to stare at.
I remember when you told me, while gazing at the stars, what life meant to you, and in the same breath, told me he was a boy with black hairs and glittery skin.
I don't actively miss you, but I do pay extra attention when your name comes up in a chat. The faux nonchalance with which I inquire after you is transparent enough to show the tiny space you still hold in my heart.
That place which I try to pretend does not exist because I try to convince myself that I don't love you. Not anymore.
And how could I? Loving you would mean I miss you every second of every day, but I don't.
I don't actively miss you.
@miraquill
@writesnetwork
#missyaidiot
P.s.: It was written seven months ago & was preserved safely in my diary , having a look at it again did brought old memories back...Let's stop pretending
©roshnisharma
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If you can't have a normal day like everyone else does, call yourself an artist. No one suffers daily as much as an artist does.
It might be an excuse but it is the way it is.
©fairytales_ -
miraquill
10w
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When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
Jenny Joseph
--Today, write a poem starting with the phrase "When I am an old woman"--
Tag with #start and share.
#wodStart
What is the poet trying to convey through the given lines? Comment below.
