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  • game_of_life 22h

    Poetry
    motley metaphors
    of melancholic muse.

    ©game_of_life

  • game_of_life 1w

    Poetry is my last hope
    I pin excruciating emotions
    betwixt words
    turning, broken nib
    to piercing paper pins.

    I paste my poignancy
    on the palpable
    pages of dampen
    diary, with gushing
    grief
    smirk of wilted
    wallflower,
    basks devastating
    diction of darkness.

    I fix the broken wing
    of
    fraile falconet
    screams, silence
    hymn hopelessness
    with
    feuillemort feligree,
    where my faded
    feelings were
    appliquéd.

    Collecting broken
    crayons, curtained
    my colorless life,
    I spill mimicking
    multicolors on
    my famished
    fate ; a
    mocking mirror
    melting them
    with utterance
    of metanoia
    but, those
    smudged
    speckles
    further drips
    monochromatic
    hues of melancholy.

    ©game_of_life

  • game_of_life 2w

    I paint my poems
    with sanguine sips
    of sunsets and
    wrap them in
    wipped cream
    of darkness
    And
    I Dust them
    in delicacy of
    daisies, as they
    couldn't hear
    shouting
    somnolence
    adding sacharrine
    sprinkles of
    serenading stardust
    I serve those
    heavy words
    dripping from
    my aching heart
    on smiling scars
    but, my treat trickles
    torment and still
    taste like a
    sore springroll.

    ©game_of_life

  • game_of_life 2w

    Looking at pale blue
    glossy ascot, unfurling
    above her imaginative
    intimacy,
    she drafted dozens
    of billet doux, betwixt
    basking buoyantness
    and exemplary ether.
    thinking, felicity
    of falconet would
    covet with cunning
    crayons,
    claustrophobic clouds
    doodle despise in
    different colors
    after raining regret.

    Her, somnolence sedated
    self ditches darkness
    and digs deimos to
    decorate demilune
    on his sleepy face
    she, held cursing
    comets crawled
    upon her
    cosied consciousness
    to deface
    devastating, lines
    drawn on his
    dense light
    haired forehead.

    She festooned
    herself, in palpable
    presence of him
    and inhales
    inseparablity
    exhaling
    marionette of
    mind,
    goobles
    insecurities
    and serves
    placidity.

    she drowns in
    deluge of
    decorable
    diction and
    paints his
    prosaic palms
    loading, optimistic
    orenda.

    ©game_of_life


    #love

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    she paints his prosaic palms, loading optimistic orenda.

  • game_of_life 2w

    she looks like a
    skinny snowflake
    draped in wrinkles
    of witty winters.

    she smells like
    a musty milkyway
    leads, penumbral
    path for dwarf
    drenched in
    darkness, detangles
    devastating daces
    dripping despise
    and wraps them in
    metanoic mabella.

    deciphering, demilune
    beside caucasian
    chandelier, floats
    on cambridge blue
    she breaks, basking
    boisterous bruises
    and cooks calming
    clam chowder,
    seperating suffering
    from solitary
    sprinkles, timely
    turmeric knotted
    at edge of her
    patriarchal pallu.

    Ferocious fragrance
    flurs, mitigating misery
    of meteroids, seasoning
    of sorrow settled in
    her throat cease
    stardust.
    but, she still lull
    lachrymose, lean
    on her lament
    lamp, lurked
    beneath
    brimming
    blemishes.


    ©game_of_life

  • game_of_life 3w

    #katuata

    5-7-7 Tried.
    couldn't write these days!!

    Thank you @writersnetwork ❤️❤️
    You made my day ✨✨

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    Color of dismay
    paints your eyes with bleary blue
    defacing velvety vault.

    ©game_of_life

  • game_of_life 4w

    Sometimes, I gulp those words
    twirls monelic melancholy
    on cloudburst crepuscule
    I swallow stainless skyline
    couldn't lull somnolence of
    sun, relentless rain sunbathe
    sonneting solar somniloquy.

    Sincere silence, steadily
    settles on frescoed forlorn
    zephyr of zilch, zest of zenith
    puts me down on summer
    solstice, bleary blues burgeons
    potpourri of poignancy from
    dead dreams and blemished
    bigotry.

    Sneaky soul, stood by window
    of wretched winter gazing,
    grounded gulmohar, smirk
    of suicidal silhouette,
    machivellian magnolia,
    ignonimous igloos,
    imperfect ichnites
    on insonmiac icicles ;
    a perfect picturesque
    of lifeless - living laments.

    ©game_of_life

  • game_of_life 5w

    She grows a panicked
    pinaceae
    in the backyard of her
    brain, watering halted
    hymnody of hibernating
    hope, absorbs anguish
    alpenglow set down
    at melancholic meninges.

    Her smoky scented
    senses, sprews
    paranoic pumpkins,
    train of thoughts
    dumps treacherous
    turmoil; an oblivious
    ordure burgeons
    blemishes.

    Her actions acquit
    allusions, aura of alyssum
    as she walks on
    paradoxical pathway
    crossing, chimerical
    cities where rhetoricial
    roads quiver with
    boisterous buzz
    of basked blackness.

    Indigent ; illusionary
    inkling, illustrates
    homicide of humanness
    by avaricious asterism
    amputated, tingling
    trigeminal twitch
    threnody to the
    truth.

    Homologous head
    hemorrhage, hyperboles
    on hypocritics
    mottled muse
    was moritifed
    looking at
    unhumanized
    utopia.


    ©game_of_life

  • game_of_life 5w

    Beauty is upon you
    like, goldenstained
    evening skies, contours
    her cheeks with galictic
    glitter, who witnessed
    wrech of witty winters
    and sits on smirk of
    solisequious sunflowers
    midnight mellow, makes
    an attempt to put on
    mascara, loading menace
    of mitigating maples.

    Beauty is upon you
    like an april apriciry
    sailed bewildered breeze
    batting off, bruises of
    blazing beacons
    sometimes, droves into
    decayed debris navigated
    by melancholic maps
    and arises above, ample
    times anticipating atrocious
    arrival of abysmal anxiety.

    Beauty is upon you
    like an appitizing acumen
    waft of enormous emotions
    lurked in demilune darkness
    Half-eaten by hardhearted
    hamster, unsaid utopia
    and stappled somber
    sighs sways like a
    tinsel stuck betwixit
    bleeding branches.

    Beauty is upon you
    like a whisper of
    woebegone winds
    walks on wounded
    words, rests on rustling
    reveries, crawls upon
    curious catterpillar
    to muffleup magical
    metamorphosis from
    minimal mishaps
    Mightbe, grounded by
    gigantic grief
    lays on lap of
    lament lamp.

    Beauty is upon you
    like an abondoned
    attic adorns alpenglow
    as meticulous muse
    teachs
    testimony of twilight
    twirls, traumatic tacenda
    stains of sundown
    seals scarry silhouette
    with solemence, singing
    saudade for sober skies.

    ©game_of_life

  • game_of_life 5w

    #start

    Thank you so much @writersnetwork ��

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    Biography of bibliophile

    sway with wind and leaves
    says, the somber sigh
    of wilted periwinkle,
    beside fissure cemetry
    of love
    nudges, feeble falconet
    staggers on thin wires
    of telepathy, which
    couldn't disconnect.

    I'm painting my nights
    with happy lies
    doodles, a curious curvy
    lines on fact-finding face
    Jostling, truth beneath
    struggling stammers
    pinning broken promises
    on bleak buoyant
    blushed pastel
    pink long ago.

    Is there an answer
    in those blank pages
    written in slang
    of stardust, those
    wobble words
    dangles around my
    tangled, messy bun
    I never wish to
    entangle
    and I etched your
    presence on my
    raged ribcage ;
    a perfect pretence.

    I was never a
    speck of dust
    I gather broken
    constellation of
    bibliophile and
    I choose to
    walk beneath
    tranquil skies
    watering, wilted
    wallflowers
    pictured on
    pallid pathway
    I glued myself
    to splintered
    sill of life
    clothed in
    nightly numb
    embracing, songs
    of solitude
    Mimicry of
    monotony
    sincere screenplay
    of silent screams.

    ©game_of_life