adamantquill

One day at a time��

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  • adamantquill 20h

    Abode.

    An abode of lilies in the valley
    where it's aroma blends the air and
    where you befriend the flora and fauna.
    A nightfall of blinding stars,
    a vintage landscape and
    greenery is green at its best.
    Here, the wind speaks and sings
    of ancestry folktales to the ears.
    And herd of cattle whispers amongst
    them in glee while they graze and
    the paddy fields dance to beats of wind
    and the birds present their orchestral
    performance as the children wallow
    under the trees of fruit so mellow.
    Festivals and seasons come and go
    leaving their foot prints behind so well
    as memories of the people that dwell.
    ©adamantquill

  • adamantquill 1d

    This is where I belong.

    I come from a home of
    warmth and illumination
    where some of my
    mundane and blissful poetries
    flow like a river of elixir healing
    some parts of my soul,
    that elucidates the redolence
    of my euphoric mind;
    where I dance to the rhythm
    of some merriment songs
    and sing off the verses of
    my rejoicing heart.

    I come from the dark woods
    where the cold and eerie zephyr
    touch my scarred and wounded skin,
    where I walk barefooted over a path of
    dry leaves and twigs scratching my feet;
    I run away from the wilds that chase me
    and I run alongside the wilds to chase
    away my deepened fears and the demons,
    this is where my sombre poetries
    take shape and root itself in the
    cavalry grounds, enumerating the tales
    of sufferings, endurance and perseverance.

    I come from the meadow of
    blossoming flowers and trees of pixies
    where I weave the florets of
    inspiring and heartful poetries
    and dip them in pixie dusts for
    them to fly and spread to faraway lands
    with a hope to fill people with hope,
    this is where I learn the fruitfulness
    of a life that is austere yet jubilant.


    I belong to a world of undefines and defines.
    I belong with the trees and the flowers and
    flow with the rivers and cry like the clouds,
    shine like the stars and smile like the sun.
    I dance with the wilds, sing with the winds
    and stand adamant like the mountains
    and fall like the autumn leaves.
    I am rooted yet I am not!
    ©adamantquill

  • adamantquill 2d

    Key to my lexical vault.

    Lost the key of the nexion
    to my lexical vault.
    And my poesy deems incomplete,
    my obscure thoughts
    continue to be vague
    and I can't find words
    to define them and fill the voids.
    Oh! I lost the key of the nexion
    to my lexical vault,
    lost the key of the nexion
    to my lexical vault.

    So I broke a piece of star
    from my past poetries
    to light up my darkened room
    of my mind and look for the key.
    The demon was hiding it under
    its tail and I had to fight my way.
    Oh! I found the key of the nexion
    to my lexical vault,
    I found the key of the nexion
    to my lexical vault.

    Now I opened my vault and
    embraced the words and thoughts.
    And they have solved the riddle
    to my obscured puzzle.
    I filled the voids of my
    incomplete verses,
    words filling and fitting
    their respective places.
    I am out of the murky labyrinth.
    And oh! My poesy is complete,
    my poesy is complete.
    ©adamantquill

  • adamantquill 3d

    Time's up, now rise like a phoenix!

    You reach out to her
    with those ghastly hands and
    strip her off with those demonic eyes.
    Your desires are so powerful than
    your conscience is what you will excuse.
    Later regret or not, you are a powerful being
    obsessed with achieving what you put your eyes on.
    Her consent is not necessary,
    she is bound to like it.
    Like the most beautiful flower in the garden
    you will pluck her out and dress your house.
    As delicate she is, she is bound to give in.
    Your touch happens to be so mere for you.
    You felt good, you enjoyed violating her
    and now she must be one of your grand stories
    from a heap you have been collecting to
    recite to your old friends to raise your dignity among them.

    As those touches touched her skin
    made cracks everywhere within.
    As the senses followed the demonic eyes over her,
    gave rise to black clouds thundering inside.
    Made her wonder, ain't humans supposed
    to be beings guided by their morals, is this
    assault a moral cause to them?
    Why is her body an obsession for them,
    she is also a human with a human heart and blood.
    Her consent is everything that matters.
    She isn't any treasure to be kept.
    That mere touch was all it took to shatter her soul
    and terrify even her strongest bone.
    She hated herself for being in her own skin,
    for even living a so called life.
    Her mouth has been zipped for a
    shameful act she didn't even commit
    and all she felt was loneliness in this
    world filled with uncountable humans.


    And the deed continued for him as
    he kept doing his prideful thing
    until one day he came across a girl
    who he never knew existed;
    a girl that fights back and stops it all,
    a girl who has been broken for several times
    and now finally learned to defend.
    She was a girl people like you have
    burnt several times and
    she kept rising from her own ashes like a phoenix.
    Took her a while to realise her strength
    and now she's unbreakable and ardent.
    ©adamantquill

  • adamantquill 2w

    Flowery creation of mankind.

    The blood that flows inside is dyed
    in crimson red rose and the bones
    enveloped in petals of white lilacs
    stained in redolence and fortitude.
    Camellia blooms inside firming the
    muscles of endurance and weaving the skin
    with threads of gladiolus as it strengthens.
    Adorning the eyes with the hope of flower iris
    and the petals of daffodils forming the lips
    that adores truth and honesty.
    Painting the skin with the
    radiant hues of sunflowers;
    blossoms in a meadow of exuberance,
    one embraces and embellishes
    the mundane livelihood, just like the
    flowers that blooms and withers with pride
    we all are equal and same when we shed off the prejudice.
    ©adamantquill

  • adamantquill 2w

    POD¿? �� Thank you so much for appreciating this piece ������
    #oxymoron #writersnetwork #pod

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    Oxymoronic world

    M.E.L.A.N.C.H.O.L.I.C H.A.P.P.I.N.E.S.S
    Forbearance of the cognizant self
    beset in melancholy, yet surmounted
    with a dash of happiness that dances
    on the footsteps of a sad muse.
    How strong that soul must be!



    M.O.N.O.T.O.N.O.U.S S.U.N.S.H.I.N.E
    Each day varies and every sunshine is not
    so bright. To some it is the dazzling rays
    of light and to some it is just a monotone
    shade of nature, burning as they touch,
    clouding inside as they pierce.



    B.E.A.U.T.I.F.U.L S.C.A.R.S
    Who even named them ugly, the scars
    that are so similar to the folktale heroes,
    the scars that enumerate one's life and
    their story and the battles they fought,
    the scars that are both visibly and invisibly beautiful.


    L.O.A.T.H.F.U.L L.O.V.E
    A person that hurts you, one worthy of your hate
    yet you are tied and chained by the love
    for them, you fail to hate them so you hate
    yourself for loving them. Try harder to love
    yourself more and you will witness the chains
    unchain themselves and freeing you of pain.


    H.E.A.V.E.N.L.Y H.E.L.L
    This vibrant and heavenly beautiful world
    of ours, that is providing the well beings
    of life to live and die, yet it is so prisonous
    and dark cage where atrocities dwell,
    where it is hard to breathe in
    and all I can think of it as a representation
    of a hell disguised in a heaven.

    ©adamantquill

  • adamantquill 2w

    Time that reigns!

    Even an already gone second
    is your missed opportunity,
    is your jaded past.
    And nobody can defy
    it's veracity in this world
    controlled by the entity named Time.
    The most beautiful flower on the land
    that blossoms with pride cannot
    vanquish its destined withering corolla.
    Neither can any other giangantic species
    that lives to turn into nothingness.

    And the upcoming second
    is your unpredictable future,
    either bright or dark as void.
    You are a nobody to usurp
    the power of time that reigns
    in this vivacious yet mysterious universe.
    Sometimes wonder what happened
    to those who tried to control the time
    that bewield them in its full fury and
    time will be the one to make fun of you.
    We were never designed to
    play with its crux that meets
    with nothingness and existence.

    All we can enclasp is the present,
    this moment right here in our hand.
    Why would you want to miss
    this immediate vicinity that
    surrounds you and instead
    ponder on the yestertime
    or chase the aftertime.
    Try living the present moment
    and you will unfurl the
    beauty of beinghood.
    Try living it to its fullest
    and you'll make
    good memories, a beautiful past
    and certainly a fruitful future.
    ©adamantquill

  • adamantquill 2w

    Personification of life

    "Beginning and end"
    We are destined to a beginning
    and we continue towards the end.
    The end is the rudiment
    of a new commencement.
    We are a part of this vicious mortal cycle.


    "Creations and creators"
    We learn from creations
    while we are the creators.
    We are the manifestation
    and embodiment of knowledge.


    "Failure and success"
    We encounter failure first
    and the success follows;
    as failure is the stepping stone
    for the success to succeed.

    ©adamantquill

  • adamantquill 2w

    In the meadow of willow

    Sometimes silence is
    louder than any vocal
    verbose that requires a
    cognizant heart to hear it all
    speak the quiescent words.
    And sometimes even
    a vivid smile cries verses
    of elegies trying to surmount
    the nefarious pain.
    And this prismatic, beautiful
    world sometimes is like a
    dark prison for the soul lying
    in an unfathomed zone
    that is so full of void.
    And despite all these that
    overwhelms, some souls
    withstand all the crashing winds
    to bloom in the meadow of willow.
    ©adamantquill

  • adamantquill 2w

    Crestfallen abyss.

    I built the walls and
    caved myself in where
    light ceased and
    darkness prevailed
    and I drew the
    fresco of dulcet poesy
    and despondent prosy
    with the words that play muse.

    I frescoed the skin
    with ardour and
    sangfroid will,
    enumerating tales
    of vivid dreams
    and fervent wishes
    replacing crestfallen abyss.
    ©adamantquill