#woundsc

40 posts
  • _barbie__ 14w

    Your memories are the only cure to my wounds
    ©_barbie__

  • _mathematics 26w

    Heavy rain pouring outside the apartment, which I noticed later after a few minutes gap. Have you experienced the same, I hope you had?

    Many say they hate rainy days, like why? doesn't that seems rubbish just cause it gets roads crammed and blocked then same do the guilt or wound or injuries giving a lot of suffering and discomfort.

    It's a tragic time for all of you ( including me), remember you are the richest within your orbit. Your galaxy is your mind, not the right part or left rather the whole little brain embedded from birth to assist and assemble the tragic and roar, together forming numerals of significant meanings in every room of emotions one dealing with at a time.

    // roar, an upthrust
    burdened with
    assumptions
    of the audience
    hunting for the
    roses without thorns//

    Not a lullaby, I am trying to descant neither a love letter but something to deal with before it gets too late.
    suicidal thoughts stabbing up the subtle heart along with
    endless sleepless nights stalking the pumping heart and narrating the conclusive qualms of past nights

    "And how odd it is to be haunted by someone who's still alive?"

    #tragicc #woundsc #roarc #newwayc #lineinspc

    Read More

    बावरा मन

    यह ठंडी पवन
    लहरें मध्दम
    उलझती शाम
    ठहरे क़दम
    एक तरफा मोहब्बत
    या बिकता वहम।
    ©_mathematics

  • rekhuu 27w

    #start #wod
    Thank you for the like WN ��

    #newwayc #woundsc #nobodyc

    #Temp maybe
    Sorry for the abrupt ending �� May add some more lines ��

    Read More

    One step at a time

    Mornings bring endless battlefields and a whole set of new wars to wage. With dreams as high as the cloudy gossamer and an endless bucket list of wishes, I start the day with fierce determination to crush all my opponents. Whilst people achieve even the feat of going to space, my bucket list still remains full. I wonder where I lag? Why is saccharine success out of my reach? Death must be peaceful than this everyday struggle, atleast there wouldn't be the nagging fear of failure. The myriad war wounds that I wear are proof that I haven't given up. But doesn't that indicate that I'm still a nobody and have a long way to go, before I become a somebody.

    ©rekhuu

  • sweedle 27w

    You carved your name
    on my wounds,
    my skin burns every time
    I think of your touch.

    © Sweedle

  • miss_silentlyweird 27w

    “We all have this poverty around ourselves "

    Set A - Night
    Set B - What is the color of hope?

    #tragicc #woundsc #nobodyc
    #wod #miraquill #question
    #poverty #pun #pod #lame
    @writersbay @miraquill

    ( Ps: Quickly written, too busy.. will read you all soon! :))

    Read More

    No Pun Intended

    What is the color of hope?
    If night and day make us choke,
    Like nobody; life is hanging with rope
    Cause behind tragic poverty
    Are wounds of limited chances of liberty

    ©miss_silentlyweird

  • paradoxicalpenman 27w

    ���������������� ����������

    Bruised by joy,
    I was worried,
    Maybe I would be infected with happiness,
    Writing an elegy for positivity,
    I can't let them further infest,

    Surgeon suffering I called,
    To alleviate my joy,
    Nothing to be ecstatic about,
    It was a minor graze,
    But you can still whine coz of the scar,

    I wanted to befriend time,
    To increase the period of my torment,
    But it always left with my wounds,
    I can only cling to it's phantom existence,

    Suffering gives me sense of contentment,
    Always keeps it words,
    Never does she patronize me,
    I don't need to be worthy,
    To deserve her..

    Sadness is a friend,
    Constant companion at your worst,
    But takes a backseat,
    And let's you enjoy all the limelight,
    When you are at your best..

    Moon epitomises beauty for people,
    For me an inspiration,
    Even if I lose everything,
    Yet I can endeavour to be whole again..


    ©paradoxicalpenman

    #writersnetwork #miraquill #pun #writersbay #woundsc #wod

    Read More

    Nobody taught me,
    How to handle joy,
    Why do you expect me,
    To beseech someone,
    When encountering grief,

    If you don't want people,
    To hog your limelight,
    Don't make them a party,
    To your personal plights...

    People who would ease your suffering,
    Most likely those who were also there,
    When you were full of ecstatic feeling..

  • wilmaneels1 27w

    They were never on display
    Never advertised on the showroom
    Only those who *really looked* saw them
    But they healed too
    The wounds that were scratched open over and over finally healed

    There are a few reminders
    People call them scars
    But she knew them as her triumph
    No longer the victim
    ©wilmaneels1
    ©16072021

  • bellemoon99 27w

    Open

    You kissed my wounds and cracked open my soul.
    What do you see inside? Is there anything I can hide?
    Pick up the stars and pull away the shadows.
    Dive in my heart, and find my reason to create art.
    Take me with you in your lilac fantasy.
    An endledss galaxy for you and me.
    ©bellemoon99

  • bubbly_bluebells 27w

    Birds are twittering excitement like sunrise
    Resting beside the tree with fresh fragrance
    Night is giving me Chills of dawn at 12:30

    Bold fireworks dazzling on the plain sky
    Yellow light aura on that red brickwall and generator's noise making nostalgic
    about hometown vibes
    Senses triggering the environment of
    "DIWALI celebration"

    Flight of sparkling aeroplanes
    One more reason to gaze up the sky

    Few sounds are like peaceful home
    Touch of self is magic wand,
    coming back is bliss to know that
    It translates any surrounding
    Into personal momento of space
    So you may never feel out of abode!

    #woundsc

    Read More

    A place Nearby(Reason)

    "Heart is the same just secret wounds make it a different place!".
    ©bubbly_bluebells

  • bclark2681 27w

    Open Wounds

    I am open wounds
    You created my health
    Now your attempting
    To rejuvenate myself
    Shed poison oxygen
    Mass filth from canals
    Time travels forward
    My death, by yourselves
    ©bclark2681

  • _celena_ 27w

    I caressed my wounds every night before sleep Hoping it would heal sooner or later the next eve
    It's a wound that cannot be seen or touched by
    So why does it hurt so much when I realized
    I m just "Someone's Someone" by the end of day.


    I urged hard for it to heal but was afraid what if
    I can't handle being a "Someone's Special" being
    How poor of me, isn't it? But what can I do?
    I m used to this wound who accompanied


    I could feel its presence under the night sky
    And sighed saying, "not all wounds are bad tho!"
    But it made me wonder. Does letting it heal,
    Will leave another wound behind?

    ©_celena_

    #woundsc#poverty#writersnetwork
    @writersnetwork #writerbay

    Read More

    I caressed my wounds every night before sleep but, does letting it heal,
    Will leave another wound behind?

    ©_celena_

  • bonitasarahbabu 27w

    Physical wounds, they heal,
    At most you will have a scar to remind you of what happened.
    The wounds from words said,
    Those take time and sometimes they never heal.
    The wounding words of my family,
    They haunt me daily.
    The wounding words of culture,
    Those debilitate me occasionally.
    Fight as I may,
    And scream at the world, they still visit me.
    Words can destroy people,
    Words are quite powerful.
    We know not what we do,
    When we use words to dehumanize people.
    Be kind, be kind, and be kind,
    For we know not what people are battling.
    Our words may be what stops,
    What stops a person from ending it all.
    ©bonitasarahbabu
    07/16/2021

  • stelly 27w

    You should
    have learned
    to freeze some words,
    words which could
    wounds others feeling
    cause what you did
    is always to satisfy
    your anger.
    ©stelly

  • ana_vah 27w

    Wounds

    You bleed wounds,
    That taste of strawberries.
    Sweetened with the sour tang,
    Of unfinished rhapsodies,
    Calling out to sunsets of the past.
    I have identical wounds,
    Imprinted on my soul
    Where your heart ruptured
    My overflowing aorta,
    In a failed attempt,
    To quench your dying thirst.
    ©ana_vah

    16. 7. 21

  • pallavi4 27w

    Wounds

    He sat alone on the bench in the park
    And wiped away a tear slowly
    He was tired of being made to feel
    Outcast, unwanted and lowly

    The other children would pick at him
    Call him names and poke fun
    “You are the child of a whore
    Stop pretending your mother’s a nun”

    His mother was a gentle creature
    Who loved him very dearly
    But was unable to bring herself to tell him
    Who towards him was meant to be fatherly

    He’s always assumed that his dad had died
    Maybe he had left when he was born
    Maybe that’s why when he asked about
    His whereabouts his mother would look forlorn

    He never told her how he was teased
    What the other kids said about her
    Whatever she was, he loved her profoundly
    All the while being treated by others like a cur

    He ambled home staring at the floor
    Unlocked the door and announced he was home
    His mother happily walked towards him
    Other than dog they were all alone

    “Did someone beat you son” she asked
    Examining his black and blue left eye
    “Why don’t you tell me what is wrong”
    Looking teary waited for his reply

    “Why can’t you tell me who he was?
    Why is he no where to be seen ?
    Am I to spend a lifetime wondering who
    My father must have been ?”

    “He was a wanderer, a philosopher
    He was the love and light of my life
    The only reason I’ve never told you about him
    Is because I was never his wife”.

    “Our love was strong but never meant to be
    A bridge that we could cross together
    He came, he stayed and then he left
    Like the restless unpredictable weather”

    “So I am exactly who they say I am
    I am a bastard, I am a fatherless child
    I am destined to be forever condemned
    Just because you let yourself be defiled”

    She slapped him hard across the face
    Then sat down and began to weep
    She could not turn the wheels of fate
    Both their wounds were far too deep

    He, ashamed of the way he had behaved
    Apologised and embraced her tight
    He vowed he would not be like his father
    No matter what he would protect her with all his might .

    @pallavi4

    16th of July, 2021

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner

    #woundsc #wounds #stories_in_poems #writersbay @writersbay #sad_poems @writersnetwork #writerstolli #miraquill #MirakeeWorld #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

    Read More

    .

  • suranjana__ 27w

    ANONYMOUS POVERTY

    scars were told not to sleep
    wounds yawned to nourish them more
    scratches whispered i shall keep pouring by
    bleeding howled let me live
    and the black circles laid there
    beneath eyes in a perpetual way.

    || the skin felt poverty ||

    vibrations of dark clanged again
    tales of melancholy flied in waves that encircled
    flute sang songs of death
    the big piano spoke my segments of vein
    and the eardrums shivered in a aching way.

    || the ear felt poverty ||

    thorns embedded the pupil
    fountain arouse with bleeding so red
    eyelashes conveyed bygone spoilers
    shades of light vailed
    all that arouse was curtains all torn
    and a shadowy vault of blackish threads.

    || the eye felt poverty ||

    odour that left was of dried up cicatrix
    nostrils were surrounded by smoke and dust,
    embraced verses all broken up,
    inhaling cyclones of terrific tales
    and exhaling tornadoes of pure memories.

    || the nose felt poverty ||

    gulped venom of half-done poems
    tasted bitterness of torn hearts
    swallowed blended blood
    of knives and forks
    of miseries and panicking alphabets
    and chewed hard biscuits of death.

    || the tongue felt poverty ||

    ©suranjana__

  • cruisey 27w

    #woundsc
    Will-o'-the-wisp: something impossible, unobtainable.

    Read More

    Is this bull faced?

    Wounds withered; weren't worded.
    Wails waited; weeps waived.
    Wedding wars, wearing walls.
    Warmth waspish. Warnings winked.
    Weakness wheedling; wealthier weekly.
    Wholesome whistles, whirlwind.
    Wishful wit withdrawing.
    Witnessing, wording
    Wounds within
    Will-o'-the-wisp.

    ©vidushimodi
    16.07.2021

  • leena_afsha_ishrot 27w

    #leena_unsaidwords #firstlove #woundsc

    @writersbay

    Idk �� what I have written

    16-7-21 2:57 pm

    Read More

    ✔️

    He loved me in autumn
    whereas I became pale in the spring
    instead of being lively

    His jaggery words and phrases
    left me nowhere to bloom
    despite I picked up my broken pieces
    to be optimistic

    My wounds made me realize my roots
    And I lose myself in making myself
    As dragging from past to a nightmare
    ©leena_afsha_ishrot

  • bemyheartless_love 27w

    Plant a seed
    of love in your heart
    where you've lived with
    a wounded heart
    ©bemyheartless_love

  • antarraal 27w

    #poverty #wod #woundsc

    The first two stanzas are free verse while the third one is a haiku. Happy reading.

    Read More

    Sumptuous platter, day in and out,
    shining attire to preen about,
    a swanky house, flashy cars,
    seemingly happy globe trotter,
    locks herself (himself)
    in the most private room
    to tend to the invisible wounds,
    tear off the poisonous garb
    howl to her (his) heart's content
    till breathing becomes a burden
    only to curse, "oh, poor me."

    Fresh full meal is a big deal
    ten-hand clothes with airy holes,
    a roof that leaks, doors that dont exist
    the entire world, a garbage littered street,
    finds an infant in a dustbin,
    oh, word fails me to describe that joy
    bright enough to defeat the Sun,
    names her Khushi or joy,
    and decides to bring her up as own.

    Poverty is us
    not knowing what to love, and
    run after mirage.


    ©antarraal