187 posts
  • dnswords 10w


    Din me काम धुंडते हे

    Aur Rat me kal ki planning


  • shubham_20 19w

    Hey bhagawan iss ladki ke saat kya karu

    Kuch maat karo maa bhagawan se mere setting hai

  • the_speccy_outsider 21w

    Are fallacies believable?
    Betwixt affable verdant forest
    Enameling wabi-sabi with a vocation
    To distort clandestine abendrot
    Of a solitary soul standing
    With fulcrum of mollifying vanity

    Like opening a Pandora's Box
    Stardust breaks perniciously
    While vespertinal beings strutter
    With paucity of hope
    Zephyr kissing the dense trees
    Announcing vortex's arrival

    Debonair attribute is rare
    A dendrophile must possess
    Who is cloistered sedentarily
    In a verisimilitude abyss
    In search of utopia
    When all that prevails is dystopia

    Perfidious are those recluse
    For their beliefs are esoteric
    Impertinent to those ludicrous
    And arduous to those cantankerous
    Making convalescence a rigmarole
    When sanity is snatched scathingly

    Some roads lead you home
    And some pester peripheral panic
    Valiant are those who counterfeit the way
    Encroaching Fear itself
    Demarcating Mayhem discreetly
    Hence, eradicating nugatory conjecture

    Leading the way is The Sun
    Frolicking the rays to call a meeting
    As resilient holler is heard
    Foreseeing a prominent confabulation
    And at such rendezvous one deciphers
    The eccentric omniscience of Komorebi


    #nature #setting #combination #quesc

    Set A: Stardust
    Set B: Some roads lead you home

    @kin_jo One of the strongest person I know. You'll surely find your Komorebi.

    Edit: @miraquill Thank you so very much for the kind repost! Third POD! ����


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  • miss_silentlyweird 21w

    #line #setting #miraquill #wod
    #lsunc #lwindc #lrainbowc
    @miraquill @writersbay

    (Ps: Some thoughts was inspired
    to piece I read and relate it to me )

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    12:00 midnight — covered in dark
    Surrounded by pillows and emotional remark
    Overthinking restart to counterpart
    Like a never-ending cycle of my end and start

    Is it always like this— dull?
    Thinking futures seems like planning my own funeral

    I'm waiting when will life set the sun
    And let the peace rerun
    For a rainbow in the clouds can be seen
    Where all affliction could blown by wind

    But if life makes me a crazy brat
    Can I call it psychopath ?


  • rodriquezantonio 21w

    Having trouble committing.
    Although my mind wants to pursue something,
    It can be quite misleading.
    The past taught me.
    Yet, still haunts me.
    Never again putting my heart into things.
    My heart is quite deceiving.
    Afraid of getting too close.
    Reel them in.
    PTSD sets in.
    Then, I let them go.
    Catch and Release,
    But I'm only fishing for the attention.
    No one else is deserving of my best.
    They would only take it for granted.
    Leaving me confused and damaged.
    Then riding off into the sunset.
    I'm having trouble committing.
    Does that mean I have unfinished business?
    Or am I holding onto something for no reason?

  • saif5alam 21w

    Nothing in life happened to you.
    It is happened for you ⬅️

  • maolros 21w

    White walls, siren calls
    Red door, darkness falls
    I can see the stars from here
    Hide your fires, quell my fear

    There's nothing left I want to do
    Except to fall in love with you
    If only we could intertwine
    I'd be yours and you'd be mine

    I cannot sleep or close my eyes
    Lost behind a million lies
    That lick and flare and leak out hope
    That burn and scar and make me choke

    White walls, siren calls
    Red door, darkness falls


  • blackdee 21w

    July 1st 2021
    Happy New Month to all writers, readers, friends and families on @miraquill Let's rule this month☺️
    #setting #pod #wod #july

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    1st of July

    As the world opens it's arms into a new month
    Celebrating the gifts and strength that comes with it.
    July couldn't have come any faster
    Despite the terror that floods Nigeria
    Songs of Thanksgiving are lifted up to the heavens in appreciate for another month.

    Despite the chaos that is plunged into the world
    The new month greetings soars high
    Higher than the wildfire of Canada that drove people from their homes
    The joy of the new month escalates strong
    Stronger than the foundation that collapsed in Florida
    Claiming the lives of two sisters, one ten and the other four.

    The entry of July in an Indian home
    Comes with the celebration of doctors and health practitioners who serve the people even at the risk of their own lives
    Offerings are made at different religious vicinities
    Prayers are offered to gods and goddesses alike

    Let the joy that came with the first
    Still be found even on the thirty-first


  • ramen_queen 21w

    A drop fell from the leaf on to the pond surface, creating ripples. It was clearly visible, thanks to the lone street light near the wooden bench. The night was busy, there were a bunch of people in the nearby karaoke room, singing an unknown melody, their voices mingled with the honking of the cars on the street.
    Our protagonist had no idea how long they had been sitting on the bench. They had lost track of time and even though the constant buzzing of mosquitoes in their ears and bites were not the best conditions that they could wish for at that time, they felt at peace.The leaves of the tree fell on their shoulders every now and then, adding to their discomfort.
    But they would have preferred the itchy, uncomfortable, noisy night to the silent, melancholy house down the street. At least in the park, they could push the thoughts of their future, their work and their goals to the back of their mind and enjoy thinking nothing, while it lasted.

  • veronica_06 21w

    The bells

    On a mid summer afternoon, the sky draped a dark clouded saree,
    The spongy winds knocked my windows
    They pushed my screens and wrapped me,
    They pulled my toes to come out of my chamber,
    The scent of petrichor drew a swift smile,
    After coming out, I sat on my shade.
    I featured nature's ecstasy to arrive upon earth.
    Those drops slowly descended on earth,
    Everything started to turn wet & happier.
    The whirling void in me vanished,
    I felt she was sitting beside me with that same magnetic smile.
    My heart gulped that pleasure.
    Within few winks, the sunlight stroke me,
    Everything became yellow and hot.
    That rain just said me that,
    Life is a journey and nothing is to be owned!
    Everything shall pass and nothing remains!

  • taekook_maknae 21w

    #setting #wod #lame
    Thanks alot for the repost WN ��❤

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    Leaden sky weeps out
    Wintry flakes sported the ground
    Robin warbled euphonious carols
    Fauna hibernated ,as Flora crouched
    Till the summer's ripening breath breezes


  • pallavi4 21w


    My eyes feel weary like the sun
    Filled with sleep and in want of slumber
    Today October autumns will wane out
    We’re about to say hello to a chillier November
    Lazily the the sun vanishes slowly
    Leaving a trail of golden delights
    The stars begin to wake up and twinkle
    Welcoming the advent of the night
    The sunny skies slowly turn
    Into pink speckled with streaks of gold
    The days have become dearer as the
    The air grows brisker everyday manifold
    Leisurely I watch the day go by
    Barely awake, lethargically idle
    The antics of fall offer me contentment
    As the sun’s heat is slowly bridled
    The stars rapidly cover the now raven sky
    The moon comes galloping to claim its prey
    I sigh and wrap a warm blanket around me
    I am languid but inwardly wholly gay
    Ready to end my day I await the silence
    That swiftly emerges along with the dark skies
    It is time to bid adieu to the warmth of October
    Just like the sunny skies I just bid goodbye


    1st of July, 2021

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner

    #wod #setting #vanish #autumn #november #october #fall #sunset @writersnetwork #writerstolli #writersnetwork #miraquill #MirakeeWorld #readwriteunite #thepoetrycommunity #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

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  • aditii_ 21w

    Five-questions, verses knocking

    Dim winter sun drowning
    in a warm coffee cup evening,
    painting the sky into golden days,
    leaving the scars of autumm nights,
    snow pearls showering from the sky,
    forming the glaciers of coldness in my heart membrane,
    fog smoke rings spreading throughout the garden, wilting marigold blooms,
    constellations of thoughts, forming in my brain,
    will the old love plant a sapling in that deserted backyard?

    The deserted backyard submerged in old maple leaves,
    memories still existing with the summer dreams,
    a room collapsing due to chilled winter caps,
    tick-tocks from the clock thundering dark secrets,
    the silence in the room shifted into attic,
    icy pupils full of melancholic skies questioning, will this too churn your happiness?

    A happiness which existed in morning cuddles,
    now flush in the closing blinds,
    notes of springs biting chapped lips, wondering if smiling plum cheeks still sleep with happiness,
    Or the calendar sways with the end of haunting nights?

    haunting nights still embracing me,
    reminding me of my each and every nightmare I saw,
    sweating neck and empty stomach scratching me,
    why does the night is taking so long, is that because it's afraid to allow me absorb the warm sun tickles?

    Warm sun tickles,
    raising the waves of hope,
    settling the sand of pain,
    a blank sheet of answers scattered throughout the room,
    a question yet waiting at the door,
    Should I open it or not?

  • we_are_not_beautiful 21w

    Glancing up at the sky
    I saw
    Chirping and screeching of birds
    As if announcing
    A clement evening
    With the December air flowing around
    My cheeks flushed like the blushing butterflies flying aimlessly
    I sat on my porch, with an awaiting moon
    To write poems for my lover

    The cold weather and my warm heart
    Aligning to paint a scenery of yearnings
    Music in my veins and beating of my heart
    Giving away signs of being in love
    Oh lover, how I can sit here for hours
    And search for you in the moon
    Oh lover, how I can sit here for hours
    And compare your words with the twinkling stars

    The light coming through the slight ajar door
    And the light of hope within me
    Flickering me to an oasis land of love
    Where we can breath the air of eternity
    We both can say
    That being in love and to be loved
    Is life
    And a daze of infinity


  • adamantquill 21w

    A repost, bit improvised��
    #setting #writersnetwork #pod

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    Days pass by as
    I grow old wrapped in time.
    My childlike innocence drifts
    far away as I walk on
    cheerful crests and tragic troughs.

    My inner child that
    still holds on to the
    unwritten memoirs of my past,
    makes paper boat from
    the pages of my written poetries
    and sets sail on the sea of tears.

    To the faraway land
    in the downtown of my memories
    she reaches in her paper pirate ship.
    A forsaken island of dandelions
    and in the midst stands
    a familiar abandoned house.

    Steps in to the scent of
    long forgiven and forgotten past.
    Humpty-dumpty rhyme drawn
    on pages layered in dust and dusk
    still sings in classic merriment as it
    hangs on the mouldy walls by adhesives.

    My favourite mug that used to be
    filled with chocolate milk
    and the desperate kid pretended
    taking a sip of tea like grown ups
    lies in the corner of dampened floor.

    Reminds me of my paper planes
    that flew out the windows
    now grunts in rust of time and
    door of height measuring marks of
    slow growth that saddened the little soul
    now squeaks in the ruins.

    That clueless child lived
    with daydreams of alate.
    Solemn pledges of making alliance
    with the spiderman to fight the bad guys
    or helping the fairies defeat
    the humongous monsters,
    their redolence are still engraved.

    Once beloved fairytale books
    and whimsical drawing are now burning,
    while my present self write
    proses of expectations draped in hope and
    poesy of self hatred dressed in false self love.
    That innocent child is slowly
    walking towards the demise of
    gullible and credulous happiness
    and growing up to accept the
    absurdity of this poorly designed paradise.

    Days will pass by,
    and I'll grow older wrapped in time.
    In uncertain future that
    probably waits with dementia
    that will hide the
    memory of my memories
    in this abandoned house
    veiling behind murky curtains
    where the light in my eyes will fail to reach.

  • stelly 21w

    The rain drizzled outside
    Misty fog trespassing
    Cloaked the beauty of this land
    And blurred my vision,
    I barely see even for few meters away.
    But there's beauty too in these gaseous form
    And I love the feel of your touch
    As I twirled my hand in your comrade.
    Grasses like a warrior
    Raised their sharp blade in triumph.
    But the view on the left side of my garden
    Is gloomy in silent
    What happen to these little souls?
    What's the cause of this scenario?
    My poor little dahlia
    Dejectedly with heads hanging down
    Seeing you like this
    I must have hate myself,
    Are you in pain?
    Is that tears on your petal?
    Do you not love to get wet in the rain?
    Was it the pressure that weigh you down?
    Or, do you miss your beloved sun
    And those warm hugs?.

  • jud_ferrao 21w


    Raindrops gesture
    Creates pasture
    Weeding mowing
    Cycle of nature
    Earth craves
    again to nurture

  • sonalbhatiarandhawa 21w

    She stood by the window looking at the winding road.How cluttered the early morning hours look!A giant crowd of vividly coloured vehicles jostling for space,the occasional rickshaw or a bicycle trying to push its way through the infinite queue of cars,the blaring horns,the high pitched bicycle bells,some loud voices of hawkers on the roadside competing with each other.Everyone seems to be in a hurry to reach his destination....

    As she turned around with a weary step,her attention was suddenly caught by a few kids near the side walk.The half clad malnourished caricatures, intently looking for something valuable in the pile of garbage,occasionally picking and putting things in the tattered rucksacks they carried on their tiny shoulders.She wondered where were they destined to?


  • immaculate_0300 21w

    A lesson

    It was a drizzly morning, where none was there except her. The wind was gently harsh upon her face. She was fully wet. The road was slushy here and there due to continuous rain. The trees were shaking their heady as of to her melancholic mood. As she walked further, she saw a lonely bird fully wet and shivering on the branch of a tree, exactly like the situation she is currently facing. However , the bird no longer stay there , it withered away it's wetness and flew further to another tree to have the red beautiful cherry. It devoured the cherries on the tree. All these she was watching and she moved further from the place and to move on in her life. The beautiful bird taught her a lesson in a lonely mid-forest to live alone by herself without anyone.

  • artemiswrites 21w

    A park, Art and I

    A July breeze fondles the trees that line the
    path that walkers take every morning, in this
    park which serves as the only retreat of Nature and Peace, in the middle of a city, where skyscrapers and smoke have eaten up the blue sky. It is on a well worn bench, in this park that I often write my poems.

    Art comes to me at the most random times. It almost always surprises me; it sometimes wakes me up from my sleep, it often squeezes in through the lines of my textbooks and sometimes comes in like an open breeze through the window when I settle down with a book.
    Art is a rainshower and I'm the month of April.

    And yet, I can only listen to Art's voice and obey its commands when I'm surrounded by the noises of Nature; only Nature's noises have been successful at ushering in silence within. And so, I sit, in the very heart of this park and I surrender myself to Art.

    Haikus fly from my pen and make raucous noise like the family of parrots that live on the tree that my bench sits under. Odes fall on paper with rustles that echo the sound of the many leaves that fall, and the many that take their place. Stories walk on journal lines with the confident strides of a morning walker who knows the cartography of the park, by heart.

    This slice of green, in the middle of the city, like a chunk of charcoal, adsorbs the noise and harsh color of the city that has seeped into my bones. It cleanses my mind of thoughts that are not poetic
    and helps me find my own voice again.