Miraquill
Snake Fighting
©~seaweed
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seaweed
1d
Read MoreSNAKE FIGHTING
Cold reptilian eyes
Follow me across the bar
I fake fear in my eyes
I know it turns you on
You follow me to the dark
Your venomous teeth sharp
A cute hickey on my neck
I walk away with your tail
Don't be fooled by the timid smile
Heard there's a new beast in town
And came to hunt you down
The world is round
If you wanna settle scores
You just gotta keep walking down
There's a special spot
For your head
On my bedroom wall
I wish you good luck
Till I see you again.
~SEAWEED
@writersbay -
Walls of your heart crushing me.
-
seaweed
8w
I picked up my things
Got up to leave
Tired of this endless chase
Like dogs after their tails
But you call me back
With love in your voice
Like pretty wreaths on coffin lids
Making up for flowers you didn't give
But it's too late now babe
Let's exchange wreaths
And sweet goodbyes
And then bury it all
Six feet underground.
©seaweed -
Walking barefoot on fragile glass
Crushing under me
These shards cutting deep
On feet numbed with pain
Like winter poking in to my bones,
Like a blinding white light on my face
I cover my eyes
Surrounded by off tune noise
Blurring out in to a void.
©seaweed -
seaweed
18w
Let me gauge your depths
And befriend the myriad of your thoughts...
©seaweed -
Empty Space.
It had rained in the evening. Ganga was now visible through my window. The night was cold but the streets were still busy. There was indistinct bajans coming through loudspeakers, from the next street, getting blurred out by passing aeroplanes every now and then. I was slowly sobering down, my blood boiling against the cold night. The emptiness of the room was growing on me. The room, I began to see, was a mess. You had left in a hurry, leaving things scattered all over. I wondered if I should clean, or let it be. Then the room might feel less empty. As if there was still hope for all those things left behind. The wind was sighing in slow agony, like rusty doors creaking. My cat and rabbit, unlike me, had already found comfortable spots amidst the mess and started sleeping. I found my blanket and curled up beside them. Let it be for now, I'll clean up tomorrow.
©seaweed -
Lost is where I found my forever home.
©seaweed -
I dream of eternal sleep,
to fall and not wake up,
to disappear in to the void,
the greatest wish till date.
And perhaps a little poetic justice?
If it isn't too much to ask.
But to leave is to abandon all,
Even unsettled scores.
Here comes the limbo again.
©seaweed -
You were an unknown road that beckoned to a nomad.
-
How to overcome oneself, wired to self sabotage?
-
heartsease
3d
Read More||Stand in the field of sunflowers.||
Although I no more try to search for
hope in the brightest yellow, but someone
once told me "hope is the thing with
feathers" when I was seventeen summers
old and it made me wonder if hope flies
& never comes back would I be the
most hopeless shade of humanity? It
doesn't matter now I've learnt to accept
that hope can come in any colour, any form.
||Stop using roses as bookmarks||
The petals are all withered and the
words are bathed in red ink, the heart
that started bleeding has not stopped
ever since. Someone once said to me
"if you like a flower, you pluck it;
but if you love a flower, you let it grow"
so now I've learnt to save roses and
mimic beauty the way it is enamoured.
||Dig grave for expectations||
How should I tell my parents that
I've only learnt to pass alphabets
through tiny cracks of metaphors like
a thread passing through needle
but I've not known how to stitch whole
sentence the way answer sheets desire,
they only talk about the ones who
stand tall on pillars and I, I lag behind
in the audience.
||Put past on blacklist||
The handmade memories are shredding
off little by little like dry leaves in autumn
and I'm decorating each day as new
beginning with cheap moons drawn in
anti clockwise direction and walls wearing
silhouette of happiness shadowing
Moonlight Sonata.
~Purva
#todo.
-
grandpa_calm 1w
Read MoreRich and poor both beg
Rich for getting more
And poor for surviving little moreBEGGERS
©grandpa_calm
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anirockz7 1w
Read More@miraquill @writersnetwork
I had to realize to breathe
When ambitions were bowing a seed
I had to realize to live
When memories were being forgived
I had to realize to act
When my persona built a clever tact
I had to realize to hold
When my principles were being told
I had to realize to love
When the enlightenment was hitting above
I had to realize to hate
When the inevitable life was inking my fate
I had to realize to look
When the travel had my soul book
I had to realize my words
When the tongue went self centered, cursed
I had to realize a gesture
When the realization flooded disaster
- anirockz7I had to Realize
©anirockz7
-
i_faha
12w
Read More“Life is a wretched gray Saturday, but it has to be lived through.” – Anthony Burgess
#writersnetwork #mirakee #miraquillGrey Grief
This deepset exhaustion. When does it change? How many more times must I build myself back word by word? What if words are not the antidote, but the toxicant. I want to be done. I burn the words down, but it sticks in my air like powdered soot. Blooming in my head, like a cloud humid with gloom, but never quite raining. An irritating discomfort, this wispy haze, settling on everything I touch, like a film of dust. I puff it away with a whoosh, but there's nothing to wipe. I scrub my eyes out, and everything's still dirty grey.
The mornings are grey. The nights, too. A monotone swathe of grey, under which grief screws me tenderly, while I lie under it willingly, staring at the intricate cobwebs of yesterday, without a whimper of resistance. Sometimes I crave, grief was mercilessly rough. Atleast, it would force me to feel that piercing stab of pain, the one that punctures this blob of grey, relieving the red out of it.
—faha -
raghavendran
24w
Plight of Migratory Birds
One can't see one's own nose in the thick smog that envelopes the city. Schools and colleges are closed on health grounds. Vehicles ply with lights on when it is day.
The deteriorating state of air quality in the national capital, Delhi and it's surrounding areas has prompted me to write this poem.
Plight of Migratory Birds
Thanks for posting the poem under Editor's Choice.
We are migrants from the frigid zone,
Who every year fly to warmer climes known
To us for countless seasons of the year,
Only to return when the sun shines clear.
Instinct prompting, we took off on time
From the zone of frigid clime,
Our destination already well known,
We took the route we had earlier flown.
Everything seemed quite in order
Till we reached our destination's border,
When we saw a change never-before-seen-
An atmosphere foggy, stinging and unclean.
We did not know where we were
For it was impenetrable smog everywhere,
Our intuition told us, our destination it was,
But we couldn't find our accustomed spot, alas!
With our eyes stung and lungs choked,
We at once our decided plans revoked,
We reversed our path, away from the smog
Which was deadlier than the common fog.
Death would be certain, we realised,
With our struggling lungs paralyzed,
It was better to die at home in cold
Than to die in an alien land uncondoled.
So back we are in the frigid zone-
Our own land and home well known
To suffer the extremes of cold,
If we survive, a new story will unfold.
Raghav R
06.12.2021
©raghavendran -
meghaa_
24w
Read MoreThe true art of
Reading a poetry
Is to feel a fire in your bones
Yet ache to burn
But here's a toast
To a gypsy's song
Hawker's chant
Pauper's tears
To the things not noticed
Here's a toast
To the poems
Half-written,
To the words
Half-felt.
The city's heavy
With saudades
Of tired souls
And biased stars
Of a December sky
I shall end up being a surrogate
Of dead hearts
And tell you,
My dear friend
This poem is a blueprint
Of all the faces
You've loved and left
And if you feel a flicker,
While reading these words
Know that it's a greater flare
Blazing within my heart.
Poets burn the brightest
~M e g h a//Metaphor
#saudade #wod #meg_wn
@writersnetwork hi.
-
blackinkassassin
24w
heart sleeve
what type of a person are you
they asked
i am an open book
i answered
what you see is what you get
i continued,
it wasn't a lie
not entirely
see, what i failed to say is that i am an open book
with missing pages
some pages have doodles
and some have dog ears
and that sometimes like my doctor's note even i cannot read what is written
that i re-read the most painful parts every time i am quiet enough to hear myself breathe
that sometimes i try to rewrite some pages but always run out of ink
or my wrist hurts
or i get writer's block
that i write about my future with a 6h pencil so it does not become hard to erase the disappointments,
i wear the pieces of my heart like wrist watches and bracelets
i added,
but failed to tell them that the world is a school desk in a dusty village school with broken windows and i am a second grade school boy who always gets his shirt dirty
and that on some days i forget my watch at home
so i just watch the hands of time turn slowly through the pages
as though they are looking for mistakes,
but is it a lie
when i am not telling the whole truth?
©blackinkassassin -
Some people are fighting about consent, how no means no while few people are romanticizing consent being taken away from them.
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mahtobpensdown
31w
Fallacy
Miserable within and without it
The friendly sun hides behind the clouds
A violent thunderstorm is brooming
When will the sky meet the sea?
The hawk-eyed fishes come to breathe
A look at the above and then they flee...
Sheepish smile on sun's face,
The melodrama continues,
as another day goes by
Story of everyday .. the turtle crawls ..
***Stay true to you, be you***
For the world is full of fallacies!!
©mahtobpensdown -
And sometimes
I have kept my feelings
to myself because
I could find no language
to describe them in.
– Jane Austen
