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  • brahmleen_ 1w

    Garnished ways of pathless
    caves sullen cities eroded
    with rosemaries
    half eaten clouds chop the
    turfs draped in thick sunsets

    Flowery pistols hit the
    triggers you
    shoot thy chest pump
    the beat of
    storm cuffed lines
    I erased

    Goddess preached under
    dull skeletals
    bones rough and hard
    fierce cardiac gasps on
    aged windmills
    my canvas dumped
    filaments of blue ashes
    rise like a rainbow phoenix.


  • brahmleen_ 3w

    Remember, remember 
    you fought the gods
    odds flowered in soft storms
    to peep
    converting oranges,
    packed ice of toes,
    departed pages of a diary 
    all pour a few
    scoops of 
    your forbearance 
    sanguine seeds of
    wallflower are 
    thick to feel and more to screen 
    that life bears, bears
    cobalts spread the winks
    of sunshine, a lost
    outskirt beholds
    pigments of despair
    found on loaves
    folded with bare stomachs
    Bivouac the empty gardens
    to fill a lilac verse,
    gather a valley. 


  • brahmleen_ 5w

    All round me are words 
    wrapped in thick foams 
    unleash the blue tulips
    stygian garlands wing
    the free smokes hidden
    beneath silver woods

    Blinks of ocean awake
    under the puffy eyes of 
    a smooth page
    shells of hibernating
    orbs root a ray lest breathe
    to live 

    Slippery outskirts of life 
    clutter the grey colours 
    diamond is the word left
    beside a corner await 
    a palm of kaleidoscope 

    Punched sheets rhyme
    the ashes scream above
    alive tombs
    pain mourns
    down the sky of
    dull dawns.


  • brahmleen_ 11w

    I stand against the winds 
    harsh leaves correct the folded letters
    raw shovels, rotten mists, dying skins 
    seek to stand and breathe the
    clear cages

    Old walls tripping over the pale suns 
    dripping wombs of hope 
    blinking ashes burried neath
    packs of heavy peels
    coffins emerge

    Pungent gills of a slave poetry 
    beeps the feet rough and thick
    to find the puzzled barks 
    nipping under cold citywides. 


  • brahmleen_ 15w

    Smashed floors
    spilled lines of water
    a fallen daisy climbing
    chapped pores
    stacks of rain gasping
    inside chainsmokers
    crocs of death blooming backyards
    hope is an empty bar lits
    upon the scales of diversity

    Blue buildings hinge
    the knock of
    a poor page
    mirth outburts
    old aurora in a fresh sky grows
    grease shines upon wild bluebirds

    Pharmacy of life awakes
    cauterized clips sew the rust tints
    sounds of a warrior shake
    in a handcuffed poetry
    drop by drop letters slop
    on a clean rag.


  • brahmleen_ 16w

    Morning dews seep the
    spinal chords
    walking neath empty
    nimbus clouds art the
    colors life 
    left within you 
    ferocious lips leek
    the pottery opaque eyes
    behold to fetch a ray less of 
    sparkle, more electric 
    canvases of old barks stand like 
    torn cages of ribs wrapped 
    in furs of callous
    lily sky of sun hides
    above the rough 
    lines gasp fierce
    greens strive
    sing a self lullaby. 


  • brahmleen_ 17w

    #enso #wod
    @writersnetwork Thank you so much✨✨

    Read More


    White Lavenders bloom
    bloom around sombre
    caves black aurora
    shines amid sanguine
    rythms the sky wears
    around messy colors and
    new life awakes 
    bulky feet of thin fingers
    touch the treasures speak
    torn laces your poetry wears
    to feel the one against the mug
    of glass embracing the cuts of
    other to celebrate the mortal. 


  • brahmleen_ 26w

    #wod #start

    @writersnetwork Thank you so much✨✨

    Read More

    Not all poems are written to be read 
    some are meant to wither like
    the dust of an aimless sky
    grey breeze rise out of ash
    sowed upon the birch coffins
    lavender hued streets walk
    neath damp dews of my sun
    shimmer to awake tame to
    substance a phoenix 

    Some poems are meant to
    hide from the dark alleys to
    pass crashing down the floods
    harm not puppetry a holy moulded 

    Some poems are meant to
    stand as an epoch shaking
    the blue skyscraper seen
    from the highest highways
    moan harshly dead rains

    Some poems are meant to
    feel the mosses lie beside
    numb strokes of road pouring
    lifeless bids to circular orbs.


  • brahmleen_ 27w

    #wod #question

    A) Mirror
    B) How many poems have you written?

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    Sanguine Lilies amid the 
    far fille carry
    sixty seconds of my last
    poem loud down the bushes 
    hiding anesthesia filled 
    mutiny urges to sing a free
    piano like wings of a butterfly 
    lamps shadow you under 
    dark currents of shaded 
    mirrors drained 
    seeds echo the chains 
    locked around thick wrists 
    your flowers left the hands of 
    an essence to mix the 
    fragrant of words 
    to sing to bloom
    the last hourglass 
    figuring one 
    minute of my only poetry.


  • brahmleen_ 29w

    Plasticity of drained film 
    walks amid the ages 
    painted upon white feathers 
    absence of heavy bags of
    appear like sparkly
    empty streets filled with 
    fresh sands around puddles
    hush voice of a lonely girl 
    suppressed amid the
    dark corners 
    of four storied yard
    strolling eyes of turned embryo
    at the calico popsickles 
    lest torn woods
    open the graveyard where 
    your lively shoe left to seek 
    the dropping winds hovering
    wet seasons.