#lost

19142 posts
  • nadaan_falak_shayraa 5h

    हवस से झुलस गयी है रूह ,
    अब ज़हन में पर्दादारी का चलन चला है ।
    ©nadaan_falak_shayraa

  • madm0nk 6h

    324

    There's this war. A different one where
    I magically yield myself for your sanity
    and I fight for you during your insanity.

    ©madm0nk

  • fayello 8h

    I have always been lonely
    Until I met you
    You put happiness within my heart
    And all I could ask for was more of you

    I have always been sad
    And captive to the illusion of life
    With no compassion from others
    And all I could see was my down fall

    But when you came
    Everything changed at your presence
    I was set free of my sorrow
    And looking at your smile was my retribution

    But without you am not alive
    It's not the same anymore
    My heart is torn apart
    My world is shattered to pieces

    I need you by me
    To feel you is all I wish
    My heart can't take your absence anymore
    And my tears keep flowing

    #pain #confession #sorrow #lost #confused #mad #lonely @writersnetwork

    Read More

    Sad expression 1

    I'll let my poems express my sadness cause without you am just an empty shell
    ©fayello

  • officiallyallok 9h

    Pyaar badhta hi jata hai waqt ke sath, suna tha logo se maine.

    Tera pyaar kam ho gya ?

    Jhooth khte hai wo log, sach yahi hai sayad maan liya maine.

    ©officiallyallok

  • deep13gk 9h

    Jo apki baat ko
    Bina bole smjh jaye
    Esse insan ko kabhi
    Mtt khona kuki
    Kisi kisi ke nasib
    Mein hote hai
    Esse log
    ©deep13gk

  • putinwords_1 10h

    Chaos

    And we stood there.
    Lost in each others eyes.
    It was complete silence.
    A void.
    But,
    but only our hearts knew the chaos within.


    ©putinwords_1

  • rakiamanzoor 13h

    :)

    sonchtai rahai ki puch lai hum haal unka
    fr yaad aaya kis haq sai jakai puchai hum haal unka

    _rakiamanzoor

  • sonalipoeticstyle 13h

    The lost artwork

    The impalpable carvings
    that I portrayed on walls,
    the inimitable flawless designs
    that I embossed on cards.
    Yessss , you got the right
    hold of my identity which is mine no more..
    Art is an indispensable part of my life.
    It was my oxygen to breathe, it was
    my eye to witness the scenic beauty!!!!
    People used to praise my unitiring
    Calibre and innate talent. The paintings
    surely had a revolutionary and indelible impacts
    on the minds of spectators....!!!!!!!
    With deep deep misery and agony
    I surrender my artwork and artistry,
    this activity and passion is the only source of
    ecstacy to me.
    However, I no longer mould picturesque views into
    paintings.Instead, the life has started
    painting my own destiny..... !!!!!!!
    ©sonalipoeticstyle

  • slaughtered_heart 17h

    Will you?

    Sometimes I wonder. If I ever go away, if I ever vanish without a hint, will you come looking for me?, will you try to reach me?, will you ever wait for me?... Or will you just move on, like you did, even when I was still there, even when I loved you like no one ever has... I have no answer for that but I am too afraid to take a step, I am afraid I will be a loser again, I'm afraid you will get used to being without me, I'm afraid you will never come looking for me...


    ©slaughtered_heart

  • renukadeshpande_ 18h

    //Lost//

    So, what was it?
    What broke you they asked,
    I stared at them for a moment,
    As I knew I couldn't tell them,
    For it was the pain that I had to mask,

    As saying or not,
    It didn't make any difference,
    For the war was already over,
    I had already lost,

    I know it's hard for them to believe,
    Or to trust it at all,
    That a cheerful artist like me,
    Can be taken down to rust,
    And can be this lost,

    For they still remember the crimson,
    And the cheerful red,
    But now what is left on my pallette,
    Are just the black and the greys,

    So why did you stop, they asked,
    Pressing my trembling lips hard,
    I looked at them unable to say,
    For what they asked,
    Wasn't just about art,
    It was about me, my destruction,
    And I didn't knew where to start,

    How do I say,
    That I don't wake up nowadays,
    How the light from the window,
    Makes me afraid,
    How the nights that I loved,
    Are now nothing more than darkness,
    How no matter how much water I add,
    I always end up with a dry palette,

    Yes everything is just the same,
    The canvas is still blank,
    And I still have plenty of paints,
    But as soon I try to create beauty,
    I end up drawing a blob of pain,

    My hands shiver,
    As I hold the colours,
    Ending with strokes that are mayhem,
    So I just stopped,
    Stopped painting again,
    As now I couldn't paint with colours,
    I now painted with pain,

    So,
    Why did you stop?
    Why did you lose art?
    They asked me again,
    For I felt my throat clench,
    As gulping my pain I stared at them,

    A tear trickled down my face,
    As I answered them in a whisper,
    "That no, it wasn't just the art,
    It was myself that I had lost."

    - r .d


    ©renukadeshpande_

  • anshera 19h

    APART FROM ME

    Carrying my talent , on one wheel broken cart
    I used to translate my miseries into my art

    The pen I hold in my hand
    No money has a value to value them
    But as highly paid professions we are not treated same
    The less respect for the writers , is changing game

    No love for me I can see
    Best company of mine "ART" used to be
    The unsaid words in my mind is fading
    Staying away from my art is hurting

    I fight bravely with all my heart's wound
    Trying to heal from the negativity my body consumed

    I miss those days with pen in my hand
    How I use to change Happy from being sad
    My art used to be a part of me
    Due to society now it is APART from me
    -Anshera Mulani

    ©ansheramulani26

  • vishakhasarkarr 21h

    I unlocked it today,
    the dusty memory box
    counting it's days under my bed.
    Opening with a creak
    as if yawning after a good sleep,
    showing me the microcosm
    of bittersweet emotions.

    I see the picture of a little girl
    pouting in her school uniform
    with a barbie in her hand,
    and sass up her sleeves.
    And right after the photoshoot,
    she feasted on a chocolate cake.
    Ah ! Mom always knew
    the way to fix my mood.
    Like chapters of a book,
    I flipped through the albums
    taking a quick look,
    recalling good old days
    of the little girl growing up.

    I'm glad we didn't have
    phones back then,
    how else could a thick diary
    contain my life's snippets ?
    In between its pages,
    laid the withered petals of a rose,
    just a souvenir of my first love !
    The scribbled pages
    with cuts and folds
    looked prettier to me
    than the clean unused ones.
    Inked with troublesome
    thoughts of teenage,
    cute confessions,
    the list of best friends
    and boys I liked,
    "how embarassing"
    I said with a sheepish chuckle.

    A rosemary scented candle
    rested at the bottom corner
    the one I blew
    on my sweet sixteenth,
    and a magic pen dad gifted me,
    the only magic it ever did
    was make me realize
    how good of a wish granter
    every parent is.
    And yes ! The coffee mug
    I had custom made
    for their 30th wedding anniversary
    brewed my heart.

    "That's enough for today"
    I sighed and closed the lid,
    sliding the box back to its place
    with the might of an arm.
    For these chronicles of past
    make me choke within,
    times might have changed
    but I'm still a little girl
    with wishful thinking,
    who would like that box to be empty,
    to relive those days again
    with her long gone mom and dad.

    ©vishakhasarkar

  • _the_introvert_boy__ 1d

    मिलते नहीं हैं अपनी कहानियों में कहीं
    जब से खोए हैं उनकी निगाहों में कहीं
    ©_the_introvert_boy__

  • deepakmandal 2d

    कुछ बारिश बिन बारिश की तरह ,

    कुछ तुम अपने माज़ी की तरह ।

    जैसे बारिश हो रही और कहीं,

    कोई भीग रहा हो और कहीं ।

    तुम वो सब कुछ समेट कर,

    भेज देना मेरे पते पर ।

    जैसे देख रहा कोई और कहीं,

    और आए नज़र कोई और कहीं ।

    ©deepakmandal

  • a_gentilischi 2d

    Okay, this took a lot of time, but it was really worth it. I really enjoyed the Sijo, so I wrote seven of them!
    Thanks for this wonderful challenge @writersbay I've learned so much in these few days ✨��


    2021.06.18
    Written rights : ©a_gentilischi


    @mirakee @writersnetwork @writersbay
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #writersbay
    #attic #wov5 #sijo #seven #broken
    #scars #stroms #dreams #musings
    #agentwbwov #lost #sevensijos

    Read More

    MUSINGS
    (of seven half written Sijos)


    .


    They never knew that the monsoon in the glow of gloaming
    Would make the sky shudder and scream, as if the storm was foaming
    Like the dark desolation of a stymied sonnet in mourning

    .


    Morning is a faded fever dream, the warmth of times long gone
    Though the floods rise high, their sustenance is a poisonous cyclone
    Now the words are silent specters, parched and dry, skin hanging of bone

    .


    Borne out of pulsating pain, arced lightning tears through the skies
    Hallowed heavens open up, and its heart is a hell of lies
    The Sijos begs for answers, but are gifted hollow "how"s and "why"s

    .


    Wise were the gods, that were told to grace halls of paradise
    With their lyres, lutes and scrolls, unseeing omnipresent eyes
    The Sijos searching truth, were given an uneven rolling dice

    .


    Dies the half bloomed inspiration, cries the moonbeam struck tide
    The night kisses the storm, as darkness spreads far and wide
    The Sijo shivers, a lost animal, silence strokes its sweat slick hide

    .


    Hiding in the windowless attic, as cold currents creep
    The mangled metaphors hunger, for the beauty they must reap
    While the strangled Sijo lies prone on the floor, dead or dreaming deep

    .


    Deep in the land of Somnus, seven Sijos dream of stars
    Of flying free in seas of prose, beyond the attic's rusted bars
    Come the morning, they'll rise in glory, reveling in their scars


    .
    ©a_gentilischi

  • tulikachatterjee_ 3d

    Melting Roses

    10 roses down the street , ten roses in my hands
    I thought i was living .
    10 lives lived at once or 10 deaths endured by unknown lands
    Red wine soft music and dance
    10 steps forward 10 steps down
    What if i could stop thinking and knock that door across town
    10 roses in my hand 10 roses gone
    I've come a long way and its almost dawn
    Someday oneday when i have shorter days and longer nights , i will grow 10 roses for you and 10 roses for your man.
    ©tulikachatterjee_

  • uniqueeunice 3d

    Love is like a rose
    Getting high on its fragrance
    Which draws one closer
    Beautiful sight to behold
    Forgetting it's full of thorns

    Love is a rose full of thorns
    Will the thorns pierce me?
    If I love?

    #Wov2 @writersbay #tanka #lost #rose

    Read More

    Love is like a rose
    Getting high on its fragrance
    Which draws one closer
    Beautiful sight to behold
    Forgetting it's full of thorns

    Love is a rose full of thorns
    Will the thorns pierce me?
    If I love?
    ©uniqueeunice

  • aparnaa__periasamy 3d

    Once the kept trust is lost
    Its ever lost!
    ©aparnaa__periasamy

  • marlven 3d

    Serenity: state of being calm and untroubled...
    Going through the situation where we become just body and not able to analyze the situation and how to deal with it under pressure is worst feeling...
    At this time some moments of peace may help to bring back ownself to the present and continue on work...
    Conversation with ownself is much needed at this time...

    #mind #mess #life #lost #mirakee

    Read More

    When mind finds messiness in life,
    It demands some moments at natural place....
    An Evening Serenity before sea...
    ©marlven

  • thelogophilia 3d

    ©thelogophilia