poetryfromsoul

Soch mat,bs krde. Busy (●__●)

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  • poetryfromsoul 4d

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  • poetryfromsoul 2w

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  • poetryfromsoul 3w

    She was
    molding her curves
    in state of despair
    Plucking stars from
    balcony of hopes
    To buckle her
    messy hair & to
    glitter those bluish
    scars perching on her pale skin.

    Replicating this
    routine for last 6 years
    she's nourishing her
    arteries which got dried
    of guilt & sorrow
    Every time
    she sow a seed of
    credence but then she encounters her
    flaws glued on her skin for last 312 weeks

    And this time she
    failed for 2190th time but you
    know what there are some default
    letters yet stitching
    the cracks laying
    on her broken
    soul and pushing her to
    keep trying until the scars marked
    on her bare skin disappear.

    ©poetryfromsoul

    Who's here �� @writersnetwork
    Glad to have you Mr. writersnetwork ..Thank you ��

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  • poetryfromsoul 4w

    Rhyme

    Blurry eyes
    And blockage in head
    Damaging arteries of hope
    On unable to address
    My unfurled scope

    Lost myself
    In castle of melancholy
    Caged by them or by my ego
    Tucked in dubious dilemma
    Hopes began shattering

    Burning heart
    And weeping my guilt
    Seeing grasses greener on other side
    Questioning my fragments
    Yet wanna sobbing
    or blooming ?

    Perplexed was my core
    So waking up yellow syllables
    Slept in corners of cold intestine
    To shrug off the old symphony &
    To scribble a poem in rhyme.

    ©poetryfromsoul

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  • poetryfromsoul 9w

    It's okay
    For parking your car
    In a plot don't belongs to you
    To satisfy that alluring gist
    Came in unknowingly
    And placed you at
    Back seat with
    Locked door

    It's okay
    For driving at a speed
    That blurred the vision in between
    To pacify the burning heart
    Flamed in desultory fire
    Gave gift of scars
    Horribly aching
    & inimitable

    It's okay
    For ending at a wrong place
    I know now things aren't easy to trace
    But let the silhouette of hope
    And thread of endurance
    Tie a knot of gratitude
    And selfless love
    For serenity
    You crave

    ©poetryfromsoul

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  • poetryfromsoul 9w

    You know only a half of her,
    Flesh of meat wrapped in chic blue,
    Displaying the scrupulous syllables,
    Imprinted by half-known to her,
    In red ink which with time getting blur.

    You knew filters of her wildness,
    Mapping her way from obscurity,
    Juggling hard to wear appealing mask,
    To dazzle them with beauty they are seeking,
    And for which the core of her glow
    she was loosing.

    But you don't know the choices she made,
    For which she's still falling like autumn leaves,
    Laid lifeless on the cold fertile land,
    Dying in a hope to effuse the elegance,
    Which is yet hidden beneath the
    layers of negligence.

    ©poetryfromsoul

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  • poetryfromsoul 10w

    You tell me
    How it went so wrong ?
    If not, no issues but
    Can you tell me how to heal?


    Nothing personal in this but tried to highlight
    how some traumatic experiences turns a person
    into the one he/she never imagined of.

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    I belong to CATEGORY B
    Dark, tall, bald and with no glee
    So the pores of vanity got shrunk, and
    Pushing me under the canopy of seclusion

    Labelled me with inferior name
    Which made me to play those blame game
    Trapped in circle of incessant delusions
    Causing leakage of sad effusion

    Falling short of happiness doses
    So shook the grief with hand-job & smoking
    For sensing the euphoria of peace
    But I choked seeing guilt questioning my deed

    Gulping down woe one after another
    Some caused by them and some by gusher
    I tried burying them all inside that red hub
    But each time it pumps heavily and leave me to blub.

    ©ƤØ€ŦŘ¥₣ŘØΜŞØỮŁ

  • poetryfromsoul 12w

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  • poetryfromsoul 16w

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  • poetryfromsoul 17w

    A lost metaphorical yard

    Some 5 years ago, crooked syllables covertly invaded to my backyard for slumping under the canopy of bauhinia variegata which used to effuse the bouquet of euphoria. But soon, those cunning syllables started fabricating my silver yard into the grey colored abode perpetually.

    The phalaenopsis and the tulipa were taking there last breath whereas the felicitous meadow drying of the lost leniency. On other side, the beetles were mitigating the thrust of their agonies and the worms burrowing the land of my metaphors.

    From the balcony of my withered hopes, I saw the two alluring chick questing for the lawn of their seraphic memorabilia to the queers perching in the yard where they used to canoodle.

    The lugubrious couple looking for me but despite me in front of them, they could not recognize me and how could they recognize me, as the one whom they know was a gardener and the one in front of them is the slave of melancholy.

    ©poetryfromsoul

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    Bauhinia variegata - scientific name of orchid tree
    Phalaenopsis - scientific name of orchid
    Tulipa - scientific name of Tulip

    This particular write up is inspired from Bidya Di (love_whisperrer), well I can never match you di but I hope I have not disappointed you as well. I wrote this to capture your scent in casket of my reminiscence.
    Much Love Di ��

    Forgive me if there's any error ��

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