Sudarshana Sarma -the endings won't end you.

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  • suranjana__ 36w

    heya ;)

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    ~ when you know and understand every compartment of your soul you don't need any other person to speak on that. be yourself. you've lived with your soul for years and years and yeah the fact is until death you can't get seperated thereby you must have known each other far way better than peps good or bad embedding you. then why shall their letters, words and sentences effect your inner voice? maybe days and months ago everything was in a mess and you didn't realise how to sort that out. ik sorting out everything won't make it right but can i just ask you whether you gave time to those missing puzzles? let them have some time too and slowly work. work on the soul lying inside that wasn't in a proper state. work on yourself maybe working on yourself and loving your body is better than taking out scratches and wounds from buried places. let you love you. and you know who you are no one's going to help you achieve the aim and fly along with your dreams. atlast it's the only soul that will be there holding you.

  • suranjana__ 46w

    #start @miraquill @writersnetwork
    sorry for not replying to your so beautiful replies i soon would. truckloads of love, butterbeer, fries and candies on your way

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    Flowers wither, wither and fall
    whispering some poems of
    shattered promises.

    Birds fall, fall and die
    scribbling letters with their claws
    in the bark of a deceased tree.

    Humans die, die and sing
    knitting nerves around wrists
    clutching sunflowers all black and brown.

    Leaves sing, sing and decay
    unlatching anatomies of branches
    howling about yellow and orange hues.

    Animals decay, decay and dance
    swinging bones down with soil
    drawing an attire of perpetual love.


  • suranjana__ 47w

    @miraquill @writersnetwork #tell #pod
    i really couldn't thought of anything. sorry.
    @fairytales_ i was not able to write it in a good way.
    @onemayhem welcome buddy!!

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    T-E-L-L M-E

    tell me
    about thy arteries
    lying in the lawn besieged
    by red hues.

    tell me
    about thy veins
    scribbling lyrics
    of a betrayal.

    tell me
    about thy capillaries
    whispering to the veins
    of deathbed.

    tell me
    about thy lungs
    that's smoking hot fumes
    of agony.

    tell me
    about thy heart
    storing deoxygenated rhythms
    of broken song.

    tell me
    about thy pancreas
    hanging bars of dark canvases.

    tell me
    about thy liver
    erasing effects of magic
    and pouring venom of phrases.

    tell me
    about thy stomach
    digesting tints of love.

    tell me
    about thy tissues
    connecting hopeless notion.

    tell me
    about thy kidneys
    pushing down memories
    all good.

    tell me
    about thy
    urinary tract
    that clutches thorns newborn.

    tell me
    about thy anatomy
    that dilutes each better existence
    and manifests scars and wounds
    of hatred.


  • suranjana__ 47w

    you are like a song
    arranging veins to unlatch
    reverberating tunes of ecstasy
    and crowding arteries to swirl red hues
    of a perpetual bond, pleasant and warming.

    i scribble words on you
    you are like a song
    an infant of poems and tales
    somehow hanging bars in the black grey sky
    for the orb to hug you tight.

    i whisper unsaid verses
    clutching scars and sunflowers
    you are like a song
    i say, i weave through my nerves
    knitting hopes to our existence cramped with sunshine.

    scratching my wounds
    i take out black and dark tints
    of nightmares and impure idioms
    you are like a song
    fondling with whom lyrics of mine places itself in entity.

    my ears are encircled now
    by zephyr of a known love
    and not an unknown yawn of typhoons and gales
    calm zephyr is a song to my broken words and it's you
    you are like a song.


  • suranjana__ 48w

    her scars sail in his verses yawning about vacated love.


  • suranjana__ 48w

    #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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    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__ 49w

    #laugh #pod
    thank you for the EC@miraquill♥️

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    ~when the cloud
    bestows mizzle
    that fondles with the hot tennis ball
    stagnant in the sky
    it manifest hues of v i b g y o r
    hanging like bars
    with flavours of laugh
    rolling till the surface of the earth.

    ~when the sea
    bring it's fingers
    to pat the sand
    it whispers till entity
    we shall weave sandstones
    and donate our soul
    for everyone to brush it with
    touch of laugh and love
    cascading down the anatomy of ours.

    ~when the tree
    shields the nest of bird, sparrow
    and hollows an abode for owl
    it nourishes the family
    not it's own but somehow
    knitting leaves and scribbling fruits
    tries to hide it's scars underneath
    and gifts with perpetual laugh.

    ~when the zephyr yawns
    to whirl with flowers
    to carry the bunch of odour
    in valleys and plains
    laughs the atmosphere there
    with delight to feel resonance of love.


  • suranjana__ 49w

    #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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    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__ 50w

    #start #novelc
    thank you for editor's choice @miraquill
    @writersnetwork ahhh i love you(8) ��♥️
    @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__ 50w

    @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.