Miraquill
Under high ceilings and strobe lights, and waves of ecstasy rippling through the masses
I was caught between you and him, and I barely even realized
I barely realized how you reflected me,
All the nuances of my personality
Almost shining back at me through the sparkle in your eyes and the breadth of your smile
I barely realized how your energy pulsed in tandem with mine, how you and I could be the only ones sharing this moment and it would still be the epicenter of euphoria,
I barely realized how you heightened me, and he dampened me
It's a curious thing, this concept of morality to which love is subservient
To how I bubble like a bottle of champagne with you yet how I fall flat like a cheap glass of wine with him
How you and I could possibly be twin souls, yet never explored.
©wishbone
wishbone
Recycling feelings like old love songs.
-
-
Conflict: Pt 2
You question my insecurity, my lack of faith.
You question my trust and my belief in you.
You question me as to why I have one foot on a pedestal, and the other in the dirt, with one hand outstretched in victory and the other poised in submission.
The answer is that Im conflicted; lost in between thoughts of self worth and thoughts of defeat, walking on a tightrope between self love and self destruction, because I just never seem to be enough.
Im either too much or too little, too sensitive or too cold, too loving or too shallow, too strong or too stubborn, too quiet or too moody.
Where does love fit in amidst all this? Where does love fit in amidst this mess of tears and anger and cracked walls and red knuckles?
Where does love fit in between angry poetry and desperate tears and the subtle temptation of sin?
Where does love lie between your eyes and your heart, your love and your lust, and at what point do I become enough?
At what point will I, in my entirety, the living and the damned, be enough to satiate each element of your passion?
More importantly, at what point will I live beyond my own distaste and disgust?
At what point will I nullify my anger and quell the stir within my lungs?
At what point, do I become enough for myself?
©wishbone -
A path lays open before me, one with few thorns and fewer cracks in the road,
A path beaten by the footsteps of those with the ambition to roam,
The shadows that hang overhead dull out the hollow light
Leaving nothing but the glow of what I've lost, and what I am yet to find
For dreams sprawl across a broken road, like a bridge across thin ice,
Like the humble halo of the moon, that sweeps and beckons the tide,
A lighthouse in tumultuous waters, to save a soul from their plight
For dreams sprawl across broken roads, breathing purpose into life.
But trivialities are merciless, like a gust of wind that steals your breath,
Corrupting translucent hope with reminders of duty before death,
Dreams are infected with doubt, and pool like tar around my feet,
Anchoring me like the roots of ancient, weathered trees,
And all those superficial notions and sentiments I used to feel,
Are silently swept away, like petals in the breeze.
The path that lays before me, starved of colour and bare,
Inspires monochrome beauty, despite its pleas to be repaired.
So I find renewed strength in the continuum of the night,
Its infinite depth imitates a haunting lullaby.
©wishbone -
I dreamt of you, sitting in the driver's seat as I sat next to you, revelling in how care-free I felt, and how right this was.
The windows were down and the evening breeze hit us as we cruised down the highway, not another car in sight. Just you, me and the golden lights of the city, blinking in the distance like artificial stars that competed with the ones above.
I dreamt of the ocean air wafting in, my hair flying in the wind as I gazed out the window at the black waves, not crashing, but kissing the shore. Softly, yet roughly, the way you kissed me.
The song that played over the speakers was a testament to how much depth this moment carried, a song that reminded you of me, a song that I'd listen to on repeat; for to me, you are the very essence of the song, you're what makes it special.
I'd sing along, gazing at you as you steered effortlessly, watching a smile pull at your cheeks in that special way it always does, and you'd reach for my thigh with your eyes on the road.
I dreamt of you, and even in my dreams I know that you and I are a statement, you and I are a special kind of story.
©wishbone -
Conflict: Pt 1
Biting off the petals of these roses, then watching them go down the drain
An exodus of red and a purge of pain
Because I fall in love with impermanence,
And you're stepping all over my temperaments
There's paint staining my fingers from trying to blot you out
But for some goddamn reason, these feelings just won't die down
And the volume in my heart is just a bit too loud
For me to even try to block out.
©wishbone -
Am I crazy or just weak
Am I selfish or deceived
Am I lost to the stars, anchored to my heart
Like a fresh, beautiful disease
Is there more chaos to be wreaked
More sins to be reaped
More fear to let shine, right in the limelight,
Right before the shadows are put to sleep
And my twisted thoughts and my cracked words
Are nothing but illusions in this broken world
And the depth of this glass shows more than I wanna see
Like the answers to the lies I've been told to believe
The doubts are real and the fears move slow
And this fire is darker than what you see below
And each lie breathes
As each feeling sinks
Wishes made on bottles and hearts like pyramids
Follow each light, before it hides
And don't you dare blink.
©wishbone -
My soul is adorned with flora, bathed in liquid light
As it feels the silken touch of tranquillity, and is urged to take flight
For there is not a touch of smoke or fear in the air that I breathe
Darkness bows in humble surrender, giving way to Peace.
Crystal graces the surface of my bones, touching a heart in need of paint,
The paint of the golden elixir that rushes through my veins
The canvas of my heart is filled with art of a vibrant hue
And in that moment, I am an ethereal spirit, eager to blossom and bloom.
©wishbone -
Mere words, as nimble and capable as they may be
Have not the power nor the means
To adequately convey this sense of breathlessness
Tinted with the hues of the sunset, bright and blooming, rich and luxuriant
A type of breathlessness that has a language of its own.
And I pity myself for my fragility, my vulnerability
I apologize for my happiness
For through this track and along this thread
Those emotions imbued with the sunset have felt as forbidden as written sin.
Never would one think that emotions of purity and innocence
Of love and of harmony
Could give birth to guilt and apprehension
Fear and anger
For as long as my memory allows, this feeling of exuberance
Has been followed by apology
Apology to myself and to my mind and to the voices that reside
Within my heart and my head, so chaotic it's almost blinding
But must I apologize again?
Because as I slip into a consciousness of a different rhyme and rhythm
A consciousness begotten from the golden sparks floating in the windows to your soul,
Apology shall not be tasted by my tongue.
For the temperament bestowed upon me is one where a plea for excuse of my flawed self is not required,
And not a word, not a movement, not a thought is out of place,
Because for once, rationality and frivolity move together, dance together,
They weave together an image that makes sense and removes doubt
That brings peace and removes insecurity
So tell me,
Must I apologize again?
©wishbone -
wishbone
253w
They say that the words you leave unspoken bear the greatest truth, and the most honest feeling. The words you keep suppressed in your throat, the ones your tongue dare not speak are the words with the strongest meaning.
And it's never felt truer.
For there is no way; not a single chance that heaven or hell might put before me that I would take, to let those razor-edged words through my lips. Because now it has crossed that one barbed-wired boundary into parameters that terrify me.
I never intended to start falling in love with you. It sounds absurd and demented as these words leave my lips, but try as I might, I can't deny that this is more than just a momentary high.
It seems as if something has changed, that I've given you some kind of free lease over my heart. No longer are you just a name or just a fleeting thought; no, now you are a static vision and an image that has been imprinted on the bare, raw base of my sentiments.
And trust me, I dont want this to sound sickly sweet, neither do I want it to drip with faux romance, for with a heart like mine, you soon realize that love has nothing to do with romance.
For love is a raw emotion, wild and aggressive in its untamed form, like a senseless beast with no leash, gnashing, lashing and consuming everything in its path. To tame this beast, to make it meek and approachable, we throw a facade of painted virtue over its head; a crown of patented beauty. Its growls subside, its roars are silenced, and out of its mouth pours the sweet honey it has been infected with.
And don't we all love a tamed beast?
But alas, whatever emotion this is that is boiling within me, it is not that putrid infatuation that slays the minds and thoughts of millions. No, this temperament is like gasoline, flammable and capable of beautiful devastation, like gossamer fires that illuminate and give life to the very air around it, like fires that burn with the colour of prismatic gold, leaving behind a trail of ashen platinum.
I never intended to start falling in love with you, but I find that this fire is irresistible.
©wishbone -
wishbone
271w
Read More
I'm back after my long hiatus �� if my username is confusing, I was formerly known as '_distorted' or 'labyrinth'. Anyway here's a feel-good poem for y'all ❤
Dancing to the gypsies' tune
Gold dipped fingertips, magic in our hands
Diamond dusted lips, our words were our craft
With the tales we spun, flirting with fantasy
And the colours we loved, wove together harmonies
Like a tribe we decide where all the happiness lies
Leaders and creators, we paint our own lives
We wrote stories of our escapades, carved our adventures into wood
Starry eyes runaways, hearts on our sleeves like tattoos
Wandering renegades, dancing to the gypsies' tune
We came alive, with our hearts bright, with nothing to lose,
Dancing to the gypsies' tune
Feather-light souls, with love in our very bones
We are stars, we glow, with a spirit unknown
We see this journey in a million hues
Dancing to the gypsies' tune.
©wishbone
-
tamanna3
103w
Read MoreAn epileptic fit.... Affecting the better of my thoughts, rather than senses #random
(not from a medical prospective though)
Starlight illumined my skies,
Dark suddenly uncloaked,
It's pellucid side.
In a flash of light,
My heart skipped a beat,
And off I drifted into sleep,
Yet my eyes were open-wide;
Evincing this notion- an illusion.
Cheers echoed at my ears,
My vision a sketchy blur;
The wind chiming at it's peak,
Yet all I listen to is-
-some faint murmur;
Of my own thoughts,
Reverberating within my unfilled mind.
I saw the hourglass, and in it;
The sand, that kept falling,
But my mind held forth,
On the moment of no passing.
My mind's fingers kept flipping,
Through the pages of my monologue:
"At this juncture draped-
-with a fortuity of existence"
Read the epithet;
Of my befuddled state.
A vague abstraction,
This, I knew, yet;
My senses took-
-no rationale at stake,
For I was living in a Chimera;
My oculi ajar, yet-
-my soma taking only a siesta.
Night or day, I knew not;
The moment was a sovereign whole.
My eyes beheld a vision obscured;
Like a gossamer web,
The moment spun me around;
Fulfilling like a myriad of wishes,
Such was the eloquence;
Of the aberrant hour..
© tamanna3
#mirakee #pod #ceesreposts @writersnetworkMy mind's fingers kept flipping,
Through the pages of my monologue:
"At this juncture draped-
-with a fortuity of existence"
Read the epithet;
Of my befuddled state.
©tamanna3 -
"It's stupid to believe in fairy tales, rainbows, unicorns and love..." A fifteen year old told me the other day.
I smiled... "I'm a decade older than you and still believe in everything you said... Not because I haven't seen hardships or heartbreaks... I've been broken enough to know that fairy tales, rainbows, unicorns and love are the miracles that make this journey called life worthwhile."
©whitewings -
.
Torn between
fear and desires
Of being heard.
©krishnega -
thesagarikawrites
199w
Read More#pod @writersnetwork @mirakee #writersnetwork
@shubhamlive my nocturnal rebel in crime❤��00:00-4:00
_____________This 00:00 clock art until 4am.
Isn't this time most faulty and flawless at the same?
It's when the deepest confabulations whisper
and hearts eavesdrop,
It's the unmatchable interval when everything is silent yet emotions are the noisiest.
That midnight extending until dawn,
Whilst the world is under the lullaby of sky,
I see myself betraying sleep in the greed of your loyalty.
And entire my day, is nothing, but the night I await.
The night of echoes, echoes of your laughter, your laughter that rekindles the doused corners of my lips,
lips that appear to be on the journey of your skin,
your skin, that quilt of intimacy, that smokes the warmth of our whispers, our whispers of leg pulls and bursts of laughter.
That's the loop, that laughter, that you, this night and me.
Falling asleep without plans; after 4, in the middle of some fluting conversation, the serenading exchange.
That inebriating sleep in my eyes when I am filled up with barrels of your laughter, of your dialogues and your teases, your entire ambience.
We know we have to wake up at 8, the sharp needle but we won't sleep before 4,
For we are the rebellious nocturnes.
That's what 00:00-4:00 holds,
alarms for the early coming day,
But sleeps are designed to be late
for decorated talks to last.
©Sagarika -
The Seed Of Love
Love is like a seed
It needs a little bit of sunshine
It needs a little bit of rain
It needs nurturing
It needs patience
And when it finally grows and blooms
Recognise it for what it is
You can sow in deeper into the soil, water it more than required, shine out a 1000 rays of light,
But it shall grow and bloom when it's time comes...
And when it has finally bloomed
Just take in a deep breath and feel the fragrance of its flowers,
Taste the wonderful fruits of life
And rest under its shade when you exhaust yourself
And feel the seed of love finally grow and support you in this battle of the world with strength and courage and you shall be set free of all you fears!
©a_wandering_mind
RITHVIK RAI -
whitewings
199w
I burned my poems yesterday.
Stood like a stone
as I watched my tears rise up in flames.
The smoke smelled of hope,
and I witnessed it
entangle with despair in the atmosphere.
And that's how I cremated my emotions
in the backyard of my home.
©whitewings -
krishnega
199w
Read MoreWhat if you’ve ingested a fruit, that contains nanosize stardust. You wouldn’t even know what you hold within yourself, would you.?
24 July 2018What if
Somewhere on the this earth,
Centuries ago, fell a broken star.
Ignored to be dead,
with bleeding love.
What if
It blossomed into fruit
and was fed into your gut.!
No one knows,
Not even you.
What if I told that
it’s a secret I overheard
From the Heavens above.
That we’re all stardust, my love.
©krishnega -
paulwrites
200w
Somehow I think the stars forgot me
A meteor that burned its trail
I no longer streak across the sky
But just linger where I fell...
©paulwrites -
Her long awaited soul
Came back
Craving for the comfort of her being
Bewildered by the vacuum it created
It found alluring the serenity of her innermost
Drowning in the depths of safety
Shunning all external atttractions
Leaving her with a great deal to occupy her thoughts
©chinweanyadike -
kenosis
235w
Read Moreᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴏғ ᴇᴄᴄᴇᴅᴇɴᴛᴇsɪᴀsᴛ
_________________________
I feel like a word,
lost his meaning.
A mere moment,
on which even a clock forgets to click,
a dandelion,
trying hard to fly though being so weak.
I feel like the sun,
squalled in its own blaze.
a morning dew,
lost in the morning haze.
I feel like the grass,
crushed neath their feet.
An inkpot,
dried up with heat.
I feel like sand in the hour glass,
falling bit by bit,
Blood,
drying on satin sheet.
As I stood there talking to Me,
chortling Demons
within my eyes I could see.
My heart said to my soul,
At least you feel,
though in pieces & not whole.
At the mirror,
I unmasked the man whom all hated,
eyes couldn't keep in
the scars I constellated.
To my every tear,
lied with smile I wear.
Soul collogued with demons within,
let's kill the sinner,
to cure this sin.
In hest
my hands
clawed within my chest.
Throat caught by the other hand,
I gasped, falling on the land.
Floating in my own blood,
I respired my last breath.
And as my eyes I closed,
I woke up.
Heart raised its voice like scream,
body gone cold,
though sweating as sitting in steam.
It was a dream so real,
left me numb, nothing to feel.
In oneiretaxia, I laid in my bed,
lost in the dream I had.
It was suicide of my soul within me,
By my teary eyes,
Laughter of melting moon I could see.
Numb I was,
And I wished to stay the same,
Nothing to feel is good,
Than all the feels so lame.
▪
ʙʏ ᴋᴇɴᴏsɪs 2017©
ᴍʀ ᴋᴇɴɴʏ ᴄʜʀɪsᴛɪᴀɴ.
▪
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