#suwn

10 posts
  • suranjana__ 53w

    #diminishing #pod #friendsc #suwn #suquill
    @miraquill (2)a second pod i am just on cloud 9 right now feeling so special�� I love you..♥️
    @writersnetwork (10) i love you♥️

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    F-R-I-E-N-D-S

    S-tiching few old veins that slept apart
    grabbed them as a pleasant part
    and spread hues of trust for a perpetual art.

    D-azzling bones whirled astray
    a skull of dead flowers with fragrance stray
    muscles of stranger collided as a hope ray.

    N-avigating an epitome of vacated charm
    to the cerulean sky far away from harm
    the sapien clutched warmth in the soft arm.

    E-manicipating scars I remember
    making me inhale a pure member
    this elf resonated tunes of i g n i s from ember.

    I-lluminating tales of capillaries to amend
    my half scribbled verses and mend
    to an anecdote of benevolent end.

    R-upturing horrific screams in the abode
    with ethical love the elf embedded the bode
    weaving zephyr of strength and mighty ode.

    F-abricating blood of sun and moon, a blend
    and hanging bars in the sky she lend
    a soul with whom i can manifest a happy end.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 55w

    #start #homec #pod #suwn #suquill
    @writersnetwork you know i love you(9)
    @miraquill thank you so much for making my day the best .
    i love you to the moon and back��♥️(1)
    @fairytales_ and thanks to you for enjoying your sister's pod and to everyone. dii i just don't know how to react.
    this is my first ever pod i was waiting for this so much and now i am like just mute. ��♥️
    thank you everyone!! you are a part^_________^
    i soon would reply..

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    H-O-M-E

    E-ndings are not always
    as peaceful as sunsets
    they conceal string of veins
    played in a howling rhythm
    while one vacates day and night
    into hell's magma of perpetual pain
    by foam of wretched blaze.

    M-umma and papa packaging bags
    of thrown out knitted nerves
    of love and warmth
    of kisses and hugs
    connecting the key of promise
    with the lock of sacrifices they said
    " we have to die now."
    i grabbed them in my heart
    with a tight fabric of alphabets
    that were dropping from my mouth
    as if i was vomiting fountain of
    shattered voices.

    O-ne and the other
    ashes upon ashes
    of good people dying in stairs
    some in wardrobes, in bathroom,
    in the living room and on the roof two
    grandparents clutching hands
    while death embedded them
    singing a lullaby for lungs and heart
    uncle and aunty yawning
    for the expiry date
    of muscles, of skin, of bones
    that would fondle with the soil
    of a startle graveyard
    hanging in our dead cells.

    H-owled we
    while parents of our lied on the deathbed
    scribbling hues imperfect
    in the dark grey sky
    portraying their photographs
    of withered eyes and ears
    of broken nose and nerves
    of chopped hands and hairs
    of deceased arteries and abdomen
    of prisoned veins and vocal chords.
    scars and wounds embraced them
    and left us alone
    in the dark vault.

    i gulped fear and
    swallowed melodies of trauma
    and then a hand whirling in the roof
    took away my sibling in its arms
    with a tale of another death
    i holded the curtain
    gulping another fear
    i scripted a poem for my home
    for the deceased people
    to take away me
    and the home shook
    and whispered death
    you are mine.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 55w

    #start #novelc
    thank you for editor's choice @miraquill
    @writersnetwork ahhh i love you(8) ��♥️
    #suwn
    @fairytales_ dii do read when you can��♥️

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    i would rather weave poems
    with your leftover memories
    memories that i snatched away
    from the throat of a werewolf
    resting in the dense forest
    as he was gulping them.

    i would rather dance on barefoot
    with your leftover blood fondling on thy floor
    floor that was yawning to swallow
    those bright shoes of yours
    you kept in the wardrobe years ago
    before voyaging to the cerulean sky.

    i would rather whisper tales
    with your leftover bluish ink to the folios
    folios that are still grabbing
    the smoky fragrances of your cigar
    and the torn peripheries still whirling
    as the zephyr teases their body.

    i would rather paint the canvas
    with your leftover hues that lies
    lies about your perpetual bond with ecstasy
    hiding there millions of scars and wounds
    it recites about being blissful all the time
    but howls with shattered alphabets.

    i would rather knit the novel
    with your leftover sentences
    sentences that are all mismatched
    somehow waving about a pending death
    of a body that was embracing to vacate
    to the anatomy
    of canopies, of bushes,
    of oceans, of lakes,
    of skies, of rainbows,
    of animals or of plants but not
    of a human.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 55w

    @miraquill happiest 5th birthday dear♥️ thank you for the editor's choice i love you more��@writersnetwork(7) i love you♥️ okay! i am so happy and love you more^_________^ #suwn
    #mondo don't really know if this sounds good.
    @fairytales_ jelsa dii i want you to read this please��

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    what is winter?
    bunch of snowflakes whirling in the sky
    dew, fog and snow
    embedding trees all naked
    knitted attires giggling in bodies of human
    songbirds fondling with their rhythms
    snowman clutching that old carrot as a nose
    and mr. santa concealing gifts
    beneath his clothes.

    what is spring?
    an ocean of foliage waiting in soil
    zephyrs crowded with fragrances of flowers
    butterflies grabbing nectars so sweet
    while sun whispers let me slowly rise
    old earth reproduces another infant
    with new veggies to churn out.

    what is summer?
    yawns the cerulean sky with a bold blaze
    fruits brushing our lips with warmth
    bees fabricating honey
    of love and affection
    of joyous and merry
    while crickets and grasshoppers
    embracing guitars and violins with their
    tiny little tips of finger.

    what is monsoon?
    petrichor all it carries
    for people with artistry
    transparent mizzle pearly white
    fuming typhoon, hurricane and gales
    and seven varied hues of bars hanging
    in blue and grey sky.

    what is autumn?
    altering tints of natural artefacts
    scars and wounds
    scripted in leaves all dead
    a clear evening sky lies there
    hiding memories of green leaves that left
    and howls the mother nature
    as she unlatches her clothes and wears
    another covering of beautiful thoughts.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 63w

    i am here i know i got lost without informing you all my beautiful readers, my dear lovely souls. i am here just to post this poem on this lovely menstruation day. i would be gone again please don't curse me for that.trust me this has been my home and i love my family. just a trial to make you happy i wrote this and thereby i am posting this. feel proud to be a girl, a women. we all love you. sorry for not replying to your comments and not thanking you or reading your beautiful write-ups. i sure would soon arrive and interact with you all. wait for me. i miss you all trust i miss you all. bye!!(╥﹏╥)(╥﹏╥)♥️
    HAPPY MENSTRUATION DAY
    #pod#mirakee#wn#menstruation#suwn
    You made me smile after months @writersnetwork(6) me loves you♥️( ◜‿◝ )♡

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    the red watercourse that cascades with beauty though moulded with aches and agony

    under the strength of her vivid speeches
    under the love of her nurturing tales
    under the amusement of her throwball matches
    under the pride of her professional attire
    there lies her red menstrual fluid
    that smiles with beauty and pain
    after every epoch of 30 days.

    this river ain't giving her bliss
    but that abdominal cramps
    letting her learn to go through every ache
    she receives in her voyage through life.

    this river ain't allowing her physique
    to swim while touching it's waves with delight
    but is making her stronger
    while she screams with
    every independent flow of the river
    in o'clocks she wished never would have turned
    towards her.

    this river ain't showing its cerulean anatomy
    but it's scarlet hues immersed in the vaginal soul.

    this river ain't hiding aquatic creatures under its
    transparent blue cloth
    but is making her realise the fact that
    she is a women who is alluring, brave and bold.

    this river ain't making her pride to rise
    for she is taking a route through natural artefact
    that is pleasant and winsome
    but is making her pride to rise
    to pronounce her epitome as a "WOMEN" awesome.

    with every flow of tints of vermilion she receives
    a day so painful, a night so dreadful
    but a facade smile that hides under a face beautiful.

    this river might get upset a few times in the 7 days
    of yours
    but it promises to let you enjoy the course of time
    when you won't have it's arms to touch the body
    of yours.

    the river arising from the uterus
    might be named a curse by many
    but remember no one gets to live it's existence
    until sacrifices knocks you at the door
    the river that is red when emerges
    at the perfect time
    makes you stronger, devoted and pure.
    and this river is the menstruation,
    the term in book of "a real women" you look for.

    -sudarshana sarma
    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 81w

    #wod #giving #suwn
    @writersnetwork hola! thank you so much wn for such a beautiful surprise. me loves you ಥ‿ಥ♥️(5)

    @mirakee hola!

    highly inspired by @love_whispererr recent post♥️
    so beautiful it was(╥﹏╥)

    this being my last post for few months. sorry i couldn't even bade a proper goodbye !! do wait for me until i come to my second home..

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    cascading red fluids
    scratches down the knees
    wounds in the chest
    marks over the countenance
    but hopes and desires
    all burried down the core
    you walk up straight
    to save us
    sacrificing that
    last breath of yours

    || you are a soldier ||


    hearkening to criticized words
    you still reside behind those
    locked up medical rooms
    swelling up your eyes
    being fixed on the body
    of the victims
    all day long
    to give them a new life

    || you are a doctor ||


    lifting bundles of
    powerful words
    to manifest a society
    that's being dreamt of,
    voices all cracked
    to go against those
    fragmentation of laws
    your heart is owned
    by all

    || you are a social worker ||


    many more robust voyages
    of uv rays
    falls on your back
    still you remain like toys
    coursing in grains of green
    to crowd this abdomens
    with meals for our survival
    days and nights for our cuisines
    you work hard
    manifesting lives
    of sapiens
    existing on this
    ethereal earth

    || you are a farmer ||


    fragrances of withered petals
    from torn folios underneath
    the pillow drenched in
    salty water,
    wizened blood
    that cascades whispering
    tales of
    secreted cicatrix
    and flavours of love
    that you have
    savoured so far
    resides in the flow
    of stygian ink
    in memoirs that hides
    in sprinkles of souvenir
    giving sapiens
    an artefact they can
    relate their
    chronicles upon

    || you are a poet ||


    pulchritudinous countenance
    cramped with alluring smiles
    concealing sweat and blood
    for the exuberance of ours
    you fabricate a life
    beyond our fantasies
    you are graced as the most
    sacrificing human beings
    whose absence would
    never bestow
    our existence

    || you are a parent ||

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 82w

    @writersnetwork hola! :) Thank you so much for the repost, i really wanted mirakeeans to read this. Me loves you��♥️ (4)
    @mirakee hola! :)

    #melody #sinc #suwn

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    you're like a song
    that only manifests
    scratches in those
    spongy lips of mine,
    along the cascading action
    of red fluids
    and nothing more
    i just want to remember
    then the sins you always
    maintained to perform
    resulting in fragmentation
    of my core.

    would you stop
    playing strings of guitar
    in my physique
    with robust fingers that were
    all yours
    covering my mouth
    so echoes can't have a voyage
    out the door?

    the torn hairs from scalp of mine
    still fondles with the withered blood
    that resides in thy
    mezzanine floor
    of the stygian vaulted space.

    catastrophic night
    was all i found to define
    the time
    when countenance of mine
    was whispering lullabies
    for a trickster to vacate this
    authentic soul
    but,
    the being
    circulating trauma
    in the naked body
    of mine
    just had earbuds
    clutched
    inside.

    and no more my
    anatomy could
    swallow globules of
    red shaded fluid,
    swig large gulps
    of fear and anxiety
    and inhale
    hazed fumes of
    your thrown out
    cigar
    and
    pathetically
    died along with
    hopes and desires
    all fragmentary.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 83w

    @writersnetwork:)) You made me smile and cry
    ^_________^(╥﹏╥)(3) #suwn
    Love you a lot ♥️
    @mirakee
    #pod

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    Chrysanthemums call me later, now let me get busy in representing other
    companions of your. Bye!!!


    Alstroemeria make me like you
    Representing fortune , devotion and friendship.
    Your anatomy in a wide variety of shades of
    Undyed, pink, orange , yellow makes
    Each individual keep deep interest on you.

    Amaryllis make me like you
    Symbolising pride, determination and radiant beauty.
    Your versatility and packing of a big punch
    With several show stopping blooms on each stem
    Makes everyone glimpse at the sparkle you flash.

    Bird of Paradise make me like you
    Representing joy, faithfulness and love.
    You are indeed magical as when you bloom
    You come up with 3 vibrant orange petals
    And 3 blue ones resembling like a bird's beak
    Making everyone confuse.

    Daisies make me like you
    Symbolising new beginning and innocence.
    Your gorgeous physique
    With different varieties of shades making you
    Stand out when combined with other accent flowers.

    Sunflower make me like you
    Representing warmth, adoration and dedication
    To love. You look amazing when viewed but more
    You look beautiful when comes in freindzone
    With other flowers around.

    Baby's breathe make me like you
    Showing everlasting love and purity.
    Each stem of yours has a spray of
    Many tiny white blooms
    Giving you the appearance of million stars
    Makes my face awestruck by you.

    Tulips make me like you
    Symbolising positivity wherever I go.
    And letting me believe in myself
    And making me happy
    For ever after.

    But hey dear chrysanthemums
    I know you are too beautiful and gorgeous
    But sorry I don't want to resemble you now
    Representing death like bunch of black roses.

    Everyone dies one day but wants to die happily
    So for now I will represent only your friends
    After death don't forget to call me
    To take the place of yours
    In these orb special for me.

    I need your help to make everyone keep me
    As a reminiscence in their house
    By planting you so that they remember
    Every memory of mine with them
    By gently touching those petals of yours.

    suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 98w

    #furniture#septembersnippet
    #writersblock( again with a lame piece )
    #wn#mirakee#daadigotyourback#suwn
    Thank you so much @writersnetwork for the kind repost������(2)
    Again another unexpected one was reposted��

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    Being a 20 year old bed...

    Being a 20 year old bed
    He is enfolded with cracks,
    Cracks of sounds often distracting me
    When I steadily move to my fantasies.

    Being a 20 year old bed
    He is still furnished with slushy seasonings
    Letting me adore while
    brushing with it's physique.
    The physique that is engulfed with
    Undyed oversized coverlet
    Being benevolently cascaded on it.

    Being a 20 year old bed
    He is there for me to efface my teardrops
    Spinning in a slow gesture to
    The long rectangular sheet of fabric being securely clutched over the bed.

    Being a 20 year old bed
    He still makes me descend in his love
    Again and again.
    Although we have break-ups
    for his cracking sounds
    But with his alluring warmth of love
    He still waits there to hold my anatomy to his.

    Being a 20 year old bed
    I ponder if he is making me have clinomania
    Letting me have excessive desire
    To stay there to make up dreams at night
    When the sun is switched of and that of
    Stars is on.

    Can't leave you dear bed of mine
    Until the alarm gets jealous of
    Our relationship and rings on my ears
    Performing it's duty
    to make you and me leave.

    ©suranjana__

  • suranjana__ 99w

    #wordplay#suwn
    #wn#mirakee#septembersnippet
    Thank you @writersnetwork for the kind repost��
    My first time��(1)

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    Putting a match on every reminiscence we once fabricated I don a twinkle over my face as I watched us go up in flames.
    ©suranjana__