#imagery

784 posts
  • cameronm 13w

    The Meaning of Forgiveness

    I have dreams of being held;
    Being wanted.
    Cataclysmic overtones being vaunted
    By the man who sets the stage,
    Being haunted,
    Not by you, but
    By himself.

    In the night, her scars don't fade,
    They get sharper.
    Blurry nights and foggy days
    A little longer.
    Wounds that deepen 'neath the fray
    Hidden quickly,
    Hide the truth and walk the path that's
    Getting darker.


    As his grief blends in with shame,
    Someone's calling,
    Muffled, weary, wracked with pain,
    Almost falling,
    Somehow, standing; somehow stronger, she finds belonging.
    Stronger than I ever was or could have been.

    Those dreams and memories will fade,
    At least, I hope so.
    Every night, I sail a sea ruled by Calypso.
    I feel her wrath and vengeance from the corners of my mind to the oceans in between,
    I know her;

    I know her laugh, I know her sheen, I know her pain.
    I know her.

    What was love has turned to gray
    And all that's left are memories of countless nights and finite days
    Of the past he laid to waste and tried to raze.
    The god forbidden, toxic haze;
    The darkest shadows pierced by hope's almighty blaze.
    I say to you:

    Do you know what forgiveness means?


    ©cameronm

  • cameronm 14w

    Aside the willow tree

    Aside the willow tree,
    I lay upon the ground
    It calms my mind to hear
    Not a single soul around.

    I lay upon my back,
    I lay supine as well,
    And miraculously, swell indeed,
    Nary a raindrop fell.

    The sun shined golden bright,
    The skies, a pleasant teal.
    The wind dances the pale branches
    On a day deemed most ideal.
    ©cameronm

  • susann 16w

    Portrait- (Day 71)

    Picture perfect
    Sparkly eyes with no remorse
    And a beautiful smile
    Dark hair and long beard
    Caressing the cruelty on his face
    An artistic synergy
    Caught up in his own delusions
    A ghost on the wall
    In a picture perfect
    ©susann

  • 9mukti9 16w



    सुबह तेरी बातो मे आना
    और फिर बेवजह मुस्कुराना
    तेरे कहने पर बिस्तर से उठ जाना
    आँखे बंद होने पर तेरी बातो का याद आना
    सुकून सा मिलता है
    बोल दे कभी जो तेरा हूँ
    उन बातो दिल से लगाना
    मनसा मेरी थोड़ी बेईमान
    कभी उदासी मे सीने से लगाना
    और बस इन्ही बातो मे
    सुकून सा मिलता है
    तेरे न होने पर भी पास कहलाना
    तेरी तस्वीर को साथी बनाना
    कहा न सुकून सा मिलता है
    ©9mukti9

  • basobdatta 20w

    The ocean was blue and blabbering....sunkissed, my eyes were closed....I could feel the warmth on my face under the cerulean sky orchestrating to the shrill chorus of thousands and thousands of seagulls.... The sand was as hot as a frying pan on flames and my bare feet could hardly take it..... I stretched my arms and set out on my paper boat.... I wished to drown in the blues.....
    ©basobdatta

  • rahoof 20w

    An ode to a bunch of barron poems
    ...............................................


    I create my own poems
    Because I can't relate to any.
    The heart break I seek,
    seems not to exist in any.
    So what's the point of seeking,
    And why bother searching for a relief?

    Afterall you could choose,
    To carry a pen across your template.
    Why bother when you're able to
    Etch the depth of your wounds,
    And in them, stream the root of your tears.

    let the poems speak to you, let it create a relief.
    Let it embrace, and let itself choose,
    whether to be crumbled or to be set on fire.
    Whether to live or to be kept a secret.
    Whether to exist only in books or to be recited,
    Or even better be byhearted.

    Let it choose its fate like every other,
    Or be selfish Poet, like any other.
    But would you let the non gifted run desperate,
    In lost hopes of finding refuge in your lines.

    Won't you help?
    Or would you leave them a blank page,
    Or write them a bland verse,
    Just like the ones they left you with,
    The ones that you called a bunch of barron poems.

    ©rahoof

  • anathreek_jey 26w

    "..Book is the only place of fantasy where one can escape from reality.."
    ©anathreek_jey

  • rahoof 34w

    This has been an ongoing thought.
    Why am I so afraid to meet new people?
    Asking often, and often getting confused.
    "Am I too cowardly or am I too tired to give trust?"

    Feels as if I'd known enough people in life.
    And from what I've had - I've had enough.
    Thus I lend my rooms limited,
    and my trust runs shallow.
    So when you ask,
    "Would you lend the world another chance?"
    I could only show you,
    The monumental cuts of my bare back,
    And the rusted knives I had to pull once
    from the clenched shut hands of the cruel world.

    So when you ask,
    "Would you lend the world another chance?"
    I would rather let my silence speak,
    And let your words stutter.

    ©rahoof

  • rahoof 34w

    My cravings for Chaos
    .....................................


    Its blank like a blatant page, not even damped
    by rain or teared by wind, just plain - blank.
    That’s what life had become,
    Like sambar without spices or veggies,
    Not even salt and kaduk.
    One could call it tap water on cooker,
    Served on rice without Uppu.
    Yet I am not craving for adversities.
    But I cant find feelings to write,
    Emotions to convey,
    Or hurt to cry about.
    In difficulty I prayed for peace.
    Now I have it.
    I remembered I was a poet fuelled by hurt.
    Pain brought me to Poetry.
    Now, I feel non poetic,
    I feel ordinary.
    Maybe my reign of poetry is over,
    Or am I secretly craving for Chaos?

    ©rahoof

  • ayu004_ 35w

    Blueberry muffins..

    Scrumptious & fluffy with content ,
    A crispy bite of the golden baked ,
    Oozing blueberry sweet -rain batter, Leaking down my throat,
    Lumpy ; Frosted with whip cream of foams from sea,
    Soft and delicate; Just like the feathery clouds in an autumn morning..

    ©ayu004_

    ©ayu004_

    #imagery
    @miraquill
    @writersnetwork

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    Blueberry muffins ...

    Scrumptious & fluffy with content ,
    A crispy bite of the golden baked ,
    Oozing blueberry sweet -rain batter, Leaking down my throat,
    Lumpy ; Frosted with whip cream of foams from sea,
    Soft and delicate; Just like the feathery clouds in an autumn morning..

    ©ayu004_

  • basobdatta 35w

    October

    Cerulean blue skies falling for
    Brown leaves
    Each rustle and swish
    Is a tickling whisper
    Of fallen dreams, fallen hopes
    And fallen times
    I have fallen too
    Fallen out of love
    My lips are chapped
    My kisses like the leaves--
    Dry.
    ©basobdatta

  • nocturnal_enigma 36w

    * 19.10.2021; 5.53 P.M (Malaysia)

    #Acrostic #Poem #NuEmAcPo

    * Gustatory imagery @miraquill #gustatory #imagery #wod

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    GUSTATORY ~

    Gluttony; I eat a lot and become fat.
    Unable to resist my food cravings.
    Sweet taste of chocolates and...
    Turkish Delights; Plus, some....
    Arabic sweets: Konafah & Baklava.
    The cold ice-cream cool throat.
    Oh, macarons taste good too!
    Ramyeon that spicy, but, tasty!
    Yummy foods are too many!

    © Nuruliffa Emirah
    @ nocturnal_enigma

  • _gk_07 37w

    Among the faded woods,
    I heard a lullaby in the autumnal
    winds,
    Caressing a love tale of autumn
    in my heart's strings.

    Dandelions in the soothing breeze,
    With scent of home fires burning up,
    Gusts of wind gently knocking on windows,
    Elicits a smile with it's velvety touch.

    Brown rusted leaves glow gold
    under the warm setting sun,
    Raiment gold and brown leaves swirl,
    Spells woebegone secrets of
    summer's sultry heat,
    Teasing me with nature's kisses.

    In sweet heavy scents of apple
    orchards ,
    Chestnuts in yellow and oaks dressed
    crimson , the lovely maple in scarlet ,
    Whispers promises in the evening glow.

    Before the chill of winter haunts autumn's caress with melancholia,
    I saved the lovely token to steer
    along the road,
    In curling sunshine with fluttering
    yellow butterflies,
    Embracing the season of love.
    ~gk
    ©_gk_07

    #wod #life @miraquill @writersnetwork
    #imagery #pastoralpoem


    Edit: Thank you @writersnetwork for your kind read and repost (10+)��

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    Autumn sang me a lullaby of love,
    In an archaic idyllic setting,
    Whispering the way to utopia of
    ecstasy, leading to quixotic life.
    ©_gk_07

  • joybirdpoetry 37w

    Fox

    Where are you going red?

    Mr Fantastic you loiter
    plan your daring escapade
    crouched against the tattood ink
    of a moonless night
    two green eyes glowing
    like oxidised uranium glass
    a night watchman with bushy tail
    and a cat burglar cunning.

    Where are you going red?

    You softly tip-toe tip-toe
    lift your whiskers to the wind
    and listen with your sonar
    an extraterrestrial visitor
    on an interplanetary expedition
    memorising fault lines
    beneath your softly padded paws.

    Where are you going red?

    Does a vixen hide beneath the earth
    pressed warm against the soil
    waiting for your shift to end
    her senses finely tuned
    small ears twitching
    to the exquisite sound
    of you catching her supper?

    Where are you going red?

    Will you grieve this night
    once it is over?

    Joy
    ©joybirdpoetry

    #patheticfallacy #pod #imagery #writersbay #writersnetwork #miraquill

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    Fox

    Where are you going red?

    Mr Fantastic you loiter
    plan your daring escapade
    crouched against the tattood ink
    of a moonless night
    two green eyes glowing
    like oxidised uranium glass
    a night watchman with bushy tail
    and a cat burglar cunning.

    Where are you going red?

    You softly tip-toe tip-toe
    lift your whiskers to the wind
    and listen with your sonar
    an extraterrestrial visitor
    on an interplanetary expedition
    memorising fault lines
    beneath your softly padded paws.

    Where are you going red?

    Does a vixen hide beneath the earth
    pressed warm against the soil
    waiting for your shift to end
    her senses finely tuned
    small ears twitching
    to the exquisite sound
    of you catching her supper?

    Where are you going red?

    Will you grieve this night
    once it is over?

    Joy
    ©joybirdpoetry

  • murryben 37w

    October arrived early this morning,
    A superstar in gold glammed robes,
    Whispering sweet promises of
    a full stacked granary before the
    Sun's nightly slumber.

    My thoughts wander towards the
    empyrean, a flamboyant enchantress
    dressed in cobalt blue. She floats and
    sings the bashing Sun a serenade,

    (I think I feel the tip of my ears burning)

    The birds, in jubilation, breaks into a
    chorus of hallelujahs, a tune that sets
    my heart racing. It is morning like this
    Peace finds me, beneath the wizened
    tree in sweet repose,

    When the Earth's a tranquil mother,
    waking to the sound of her children's
    laughter. She smells of damp soil and
    rosemary thyme, a concoction
    my nostrils in acceptance sniffs to.

    I sit in awe, tasting the bliss of
    solitude on my tongue's tip while
    the lone leaf the old tree clings to,
    dreams of a spring that was
    promised to him.

    ©Meri Murry
    14.10.2021

    #patheticfallacy #wod
    #imagery
    #podben #benecc

    @miraquill you don't know how much this means to me. Thank you for the pod 💜

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    An October Morning

  • euphrasiafaedra1 37w

    Thousands of snow flakes
    Falls on dead bodies
    Witch at the snake gliding tower
    Mutters and butters


    Her miracles
    While princess
    Writes her sleepy diary

  • ashamurali 37w

    TASTE OF ANGER.

    Anger is an emotion that first destroys the self before harming the other person.

    This poem is written in Gustatory imagery where it appeals to the reader's sense of taste by describing something using a taste that the reader can recall.

    @writersnetwork @writersbay @miraquill #miraquill #imagery #wod #pod #ceesreposts #writersnetwork #writersbay #anger

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    TASTE OF ANGER

    Sourness of the bitter feeling,
    The anger within, brightly burning,
    The face, fuming and red with flourish,
    like having  a spicy chilly in the dish.
     
    Unable to digest the betrayal,
    Of the one who seemed so loyal!
    Mind filled with memories vivid,
    Like scalding the tongue with hot liquid.
     
    Hurtful actions, totally unanticipated,
    Filled with vicious hatred,
    Mouth stings with the harsh taste,
    With words uttered in haste.
     
    Anger is a poison powerfully potent,
    Than can destroy in a moment,
    One drop of it is enough,
    To destroy one, however tough!
     
    ©ashamurali

  • bellemoon99 37w

    Sweet

    The warmth fills your mouth, and soon you can feel the sweetness of the caramel sip inside.
    The crackling fire is a gentle lullaby in the background, and the blanket around your shoulders a comfortable haven.
    Careful, don't think too much, or the dream will break.
    ©bellemoon99

  • kasishakespeare 37w

    Fantasy

    I once thought what insect
    I would choose if I was given a chance to make a change
    Maybe a fly, but eww it flies everywhere in sewages, even at the restroom and it's associated with dirt
    And am a clean freak so it matters
    Mosquitoes cause pain so nope
    I won't choose it, because I hate
    Seeing a man's tears, they freak me out
    I think a butterfly would do the trick
    I imagine myself with the prettiest of wings
    Moving from one flower to another
    With two harmless horns
    Spreading love to the world
    But I will fail, before reaching flower
    Number 35, I have a phobia of hieghts
    ©kasi.shakespeare_49

  • nemesis_here 39w

    Manikaran

    I once visited a town
    In a peaceful valley of Himachal Pradesh
    That place was enchanting
    no less than a paradise in heights
    The sunlight danced on lush green trees
    And on rocky mountains in the scenes behind
    Where river Parvati flowed with vigour and grace
    splashing with power, untouched like a shrine
    Steam from natural hot springs rose
    giving the place a heavenly feel
    Sweet and nutty aroma of cooked rice
    filled the whole town
    One would, towards them, surely streel
    The music of nature with
    murmurs of winds was like
    a solace in distress and
    a place where comfort finds
    When it rained, these wonders around were
    mixed with petrichor that
    seemed like a link between earth and divine
    In winters, the freezing wind
    blew past the ears
    Teasing that flushed red skin
    At the same time there was
    a warm passion from springs
    that tousled with heart's feelings
    That tun-tun of bells and chanting of prayers
    from the temples around
    helped maintain a connection with soul
    in nature and peace abound
    The place just felt like home
    And the warmth around never left me alone
    You'd ask me "so, what extraordinary
    did the place had"
    And I'd say "nothing"
    It's just a simple place
    with just a simple living pace
    But Manikaran is still fresh in my memories
    That if I close my eyes, I can still be there anytime
    And even after all these years of coming back
    It feels as if I never really left that place destined.

    ©nemesis_here