~poetess~ dead. will read you all soon.

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  • pink_berry 1d

    #kwansaba #wod #pod @miraquill @writersnetwork #ceesreposts #aalowrites all three are interconnected.
    Enjoy reading ❤

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    Was I the one who faked myself?
    Was I the one who reneged words?
    Then why did love return as pain?
    Why my heart turned into million pieces?
    Why can't I believe in love again?
    How could you forget me so easily?
    I feel you never loved me maybe.

    Maybe you never wanna cherish our days.
    Maybe love was a game for you.
    You whom I thought was my king.
    King whom I loved more than myself.
    My love for you had failed now.
    Now I can barely fill my heart.
    Heart has holes and cracks never healed.

    Healing takes time but mine takes years.
    Years I loved are years I wasted.
    Wasted to a point that lost myself.
    My hopes are keeping me alive today.
    Today I ink my future not my past.
    Past holds no value for me now.
    Now you are no one for me.

    //And honey, 'TRUE LOVE' is an oxymoron for me. Neither my ink could describe it nor the poetic language, so I leave this incomplete tale of 'TRUE LOVE' over you.//

  • pink_berry 2d

    Mirror, the lier

    When I look in the mirror ,
    I see a simple girl standing in front of me.
    Her medium length hair , her hazel brown eyes , her light pink lips and those dimples when she smiles.

    What I could see is just my mere appearance , but what I demand to see is the real me from inside.
    As the world judges me from my silhoutte, let me look into my beast inside.

    I wanna see the scars, I've been camouflaging.
    I wanna see the dark circles, I've been concealing.
    I wanna read the dark secrets I've been keeping.
    I wanna embrace the weeping demon , I've let sleeping.

    I know it's illogical to ask the world of demons to see the angel traces in me. It's naive to warn them with the sleeping beast inside me.
    But then let the mirror Atleast not reflect my mere beauty.

    When I look in the mirror,
    I see my pure reflection.
    Or maybe I'm a victim , smitten by his lies.

    //And honey, when I look in the mirror, I see love in my eyes. I smell hope of your presence. I recite poetry of absence as that's all I could do.//

  • pink_berry 2d

    Dead but still Alive

    It was pretty late in the night.
    I was lying on my bed.
    Unlike other days I slept easily
    Without any dread.

    I dreamed a dream with someone who was gone.
    Gone far away in the heavens as he was long dead.
    I saw him and ran towards him.
    I dared to tap his head.

    He turned facing me and I could see the sparkle in his eyes.
    I reached forward to hug him but I couldn't.
    "Nanu , why can't I touch you ?" I asked angrily.
    "You can see me , isn't that enough?" He asked.
    "No! Don't you know your granddaughter, she is never satisfied." I grinned.
    "Indeed I know. But I also know that she gets pleased with little things to." HE winked. I giggled.
    "How are you my doll?" His eyes filled with tears.
    "I'm not fine , why did you leave me. I can no longer hold your hand , pull your cheeks , tap your head in an irritating manner , I can't talk to you , neither can I hug you." I exclaimed.
    "Sometimes, people need to leave when they can't bear the struggle to live. Do you want your grandpa to suffer?"
    "No!" I replied with innocence.
    "How are you with people down their on the world?"
    "Just like you , traits of an army man , you didn't let others cross the border and I don't let people cross their limits." I smirked.
    "How's the world there?"
    "Huh ! The world's beautiful but people are worse. They are torturing your little innocent granddaughter." I frowned.
    "As far as I remember you hate daily soap dramas , then how did you learn to be so dramatic?"
    "Uff Nanu, don't you know your wife and daughter, it's hereditary." I laughed.
    "Such a devil you are!" HE smiled lightly.

    I could see him smiling at me and taking steps back.
    I ran behind him to stop but he disappeared in the dark.
    "Nanu!" I screamed as my eyes were wide open.
    My lashes were wet and my hands were shivering as my mum calmed me down.

    Sometimes it's so strange how you dream your closed ones when they leave you forever.
    Or maybe they are there somewhere in the corner of your heart, still breathing memories.

  • pink_berry 3d

    Home is where the Heart is

    I couldn't sleep last night as the thoughts of leaving this place didn't leave me alone for a second.
    I could barely breath with peace and I lost the war with jitters.

    My room where I laughed, cried, cherished and battled.
    These walls have heard secrets more than anyone.
    The ceiling have seen both the angel and demon inside me.

    My family, oh , I could hardly imagine a day without them.
    The way I use to glance my mum while she cooks.
    The way I cuddle with my dad when he is busy.
    The way I annoy my siblings, being the eldest.

    The pink walls gives me a sense of belongingness.
    The aroma of eucalyptus in the air feels fresh.
    The windows which throw inspirations to my ink.
    The flower pots which never fail to lighten my face with a new bud.

    Oh ! I can't bear to leave this place I whimpered as my dad hugged me.
    And he said "my princess, your home is where your heart is. Place your believe and trust on your fate. And then see the miracles of destiny."

  • pink_berry 4d

    #joy #wod #pod
    Well even EC, WN repost and POD brings me endless joy����
    @miraquill @writersnetwork #ceesreposts #aalowrites hehe ��❤

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    She - My overwhelming joy

    As I open my eyes early in the morning and see her lying all in my arms , brings me endless ecstacy.
    I set the falling strands of her hair behind her ears and stare at her.
    Appreciating the perfection by almighty in my heart.

    Her closed eyelids and lashes curled up are like a blanket under which an entire galaxy is sleeping.
    Her face so serene and chaste just like her name.
    I could sense the peace underlying her heart as it beats near my chest.

    Her warm and tiny hands brush mine with love I never felt.
    Her lips whispered things I never heard from anyone.
    She calls me her world ignoring the fact that I'm mere human.
    But loves something which metaphorically present objects.

    Every time I see her walking around makes me feel blessed.
    When she is near, things start going well.
    Her presence is filled with magic and her poetries are a magic spell which had engulfed me in a fantasy world from which I never wish to escape.

    //And honey, you bring me overwhelming joy. Your presence is never empty. I wish I could write some more but you as you never fail to tempt me.//

  • pink_berry 1w

    Holaaa ppl ! Berries here !
    ����❤���� @writersnetwork
    It's an another collaboration by us. #berrytale We've used celestial bodies in our prompt. ENJOY READING ❤
    #ceesreposts @yellow_berry @crimson_berry @green_berry @purple_berry and of course me ����

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    Cosmic Poetry

    I have wondered from dusk till dawn. I have betwitched my own shades in frown.
    Now, if dusk cages my
    Will the LIGHT erase my
    Will the light, make me shine in your sight?
    ©yellow_berry |©shadowofthoughts_

    While Killing shadow of dark thoughts,
    Shimmering like SUN, can I become a poet of sparkling hopes.

    ©crimson_berry | ©sparkles09_

    If the blueberry sky encloses me in his widespread arms, will the MOON kiss my scars? I'm burning my blood to bleed metaphors and personify pain, honey I'm a wanderer with dreams.

    ©pink_berry | ©pink_berry

    Wandering round the void, I feel like a dying STAR collapsing with our memories bit by bit, Far away like light years but still connected with strings of hope.

    ©green_berry | ©uttkarsh_15

    Beloved blue can you hide all my wounds while waiting for miraculous moment behind CLOUDS.
    Will you let me sit and speak my heart out.
    Will you write me a letter by turning the raindrops into ink. I will keep it like a dried flower.

    ©ankahe_alfaz | ©purple_berry

  • pink_berry 1w

    Her Name A....

    A plain white canvas , was all it was before few moments and now
    Its her name I brushed on it.
    As its not less than any poetry.

    I painted Pink roses and baby breaths around the name.
    Lush green mulberry leaves surrounding it.
    Linden leaves sneaking from the corners and blush Mandevilles catching my eyes.

    It might seem just a name but it's the axis on which my world rotates.
    It's my lifeline for which my heart beats enough.

    She is an art who made me an artist but alas I couldn't paint her.
    But indeed I never failed to weave her into my poetries.

    My love, you made me paint poetries and poetry was something I painted with my quill.
    I would love you from all your flaws and imperfections to all your features and perfections.

    Your eyes speak sonnets , your smile is my metaphor.
    Your lips are pink smilies not like anything in this world.
    Your presence is the subject of my poetry.
    Your embrace is the description of my proses.

    //And honey , I couldn't force my eyes to look away from the canvas. As I painted my whole world right Infront of my eyes and that's your NAME.//

  • pink_berry 1w

    #heart #wod #pod
    And you two ..... I still exist ������
    Hayeeee, I lobe you both , inni jaldi sunn bhi liya ��������❤❤
    Thenkuuu shoo much for the EC(8) ������������
    @miraquill @writersnetwork #ceesreposts #aalowrites
    Enjoy reading ❤

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    Perfection is overrated

    Late in the eve , I passed by the gallery in my town.
    The old yet vintage interior never fails to catch my eyes.
    Stepping inside the wind chime made a pleasant melody.
    The smell of wooden racks feels warm and earthy.

    I came across two white marble made hearts leaning over a stand.
    The marbles were granular and lustrous enough which made my irises sparkle up.

    One was pristine , perfect and pure.
    Like the innocent kids heart which was polished placidly.
    But it lacked something which I couldn't guess.
    "It's perfect yet imperfect ! What's missing?" I whispered to myself.

    "Perfection is always overrated! Nothing seems better without few breaks and falls." She sighed.
    My pupils weren't ready to look away from her. She was seeming perfect to me like a goddess.
    "Indeed !" I forced from my lips.

    "This one's broken and glued back with gold lacquer. There are lines which traces breakage and healing." She paused, she had a serene look.
    "Healing?" I questioned.
    "Anything that breaks , needs to be healed! Sometimes a thing and sometimes..... the heart." She answered.
    "Hmmm, I agree! At times imperfections seem to attract you whereas perfection seems to be a bit boring." I stated.
    "Indeed , what's a beautiful garden full of blooming roses , lavenders and mulberry leaves without few withered flowers and dry autumn leaves." She smiled and walked away.
    I couldn't help but just stare at her.
    Indeed she was imperfect yet perfect as all this time she wrote her replies in a notepad and presented it to me. She couldn't talk yet we had a conversation.

    //And honey , I would love to fall for you accepting all your imperfections. I would relish the blemishes.Because if moon scars can be poetry why can't your flaws be an art.//

  • pink_berry 1w

    #brave #wod #pod @miraquill @writersnetwork #ceesreposts #aalowrites
    Tbvh I don't remember the last time I took a stand for myself. I'm a damn sensitive and timid human. So wrote it in a general way.

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    What's being BRAVE ?

    //When a young maiden walking across the streets sighs a disgusting sight , when a teenager at home is touched by her tuition teacher in a wrong way , when a women at her work place is being sarcastically asked about staying over and she keeps all that hurricane inside and walks away. Locks her in a room feels unholy after being touched , lands her frustration on the furniture. But instead of all this if she takes a stand for herself, she complaints about it and never ever let it effect her , and then this is called bravery.//

    //A marriage gives several rights to both men and women. And when the men dominates her with everything she does, when raises his hand just to get her in his control and mental disturbance isn't less of any torture. She either tends to suffer all this pain and not uttering a word to her family or she decides to end her life as that seems the end of the problem. And if she speaks against all the bans and crosses All the caution lines , this is called bravery. Not letting yourself suffered is called bravery. Not allowing the QUEEN inside you to be his slave is BRAVERY.//

    //When being bullied by your classmates, when being judged by your shy nature, when being burdened up with hell of responsibilities you didn't expect to take up and you keep it all low as men are supposed to be brave.
    But you learn to react, respond and relish is what's called bravery. Society can never accept introverts. They can never accept the fact that men can cry. They can never see you pampering your girl , they judge you all the damn time and to all the men out there , let them go. You don't need to justify your personality nor you need to prove your uniqueness. And you can cry , you can express, you can speak and you are strong.//

    //Even LOVING AND LETTING GO is an act bravery. When you love someone purely and decides to express and not to hide is bravery. When you allow your heart to say all the words and poetries it's been holding on is bravery. And when you are broken down and hurt you are left all lost but you decide to let go ; that's bravery. As letting someone go has always been a part of loving them.//

  • pink_berry 1w

    Noor- light / also the bright reflection over ones face denoted as beauty.
    #portrait #wod #pod @miraquill @writersnetwork #ceesreposts #aalowrites

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    Knowingly unknown Maiden

    Early in the morning, I see her in the fields of orchids.
    Rushing behind the woods and collecting some fruits.

    Her white dress falling over her bare body. The neckline has a lace which kisses her collarbone.
    Her blonde hair contrasting the shade of woods.
    Her hazel brown eyes are innocently notorious.
    Her blush pink cheeks are redder than cherries.

    I walk beside her to help with loads she carry to the old age home nearby.
    She smells of musk with a little trace of orchids in her lingering skin.
    Her hands are softer than cotton. And oh ! How can I forget her voice which is sweeter than honey.

    I walk back to her home just to assure the little lover inside me that she is safe.
    We never spoke to each other , the only words we whisper are greetings.
    Or maybe our eyes did the task of chasing a conversation.
    Waving a goodbye I left.

    And here I am portraying a portrait of a maiden lot less than a goddess.
    Oh honey , I wish my words were enough to describe you and my metaphors may veil under the noor you hold.