the_world_is_unknown

~Udita

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  • the_world_is_unknown 5h

    Poems wash away
    The dust of past
    With drops of metaphors
    To meliorate the present.

    A poet
    Penetrates deep into emotions
    By the flow of words
    To discover lost antique thoughts.

    Some verses
    Scratch the flummox of thoughts
    By its serenity
    To free some shackled lies of life.
    © the_world_is_unknown(Udita)


    ________________________________


    "Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.”
    — Percy Bysshe Shelley

    Lame attempt for #structure #wod #pod #temp #mirakee #writersnetwork #ceesreposts

    @mirakee @mirakee
    @fromwitchpen @thelunareclipse @theinkdomain

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    ©the_world_is_unknown

  • the_world_is_unknown 1d

    Lame attempt on #languageart

    I don't know even if it gives any meaning to you or not ��

    #wod #pod #mirakee #writersnetwork #ceesreposts
    @mirakee @writersnetwork
    @fromwitchpen @san_wordzz @squared

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    MAKTUB(it's written in her destiny)
    Everytime the clouds of love will fade in her life,
    To give way to that bright sunshine.
    Which will give warmth to her heart,
    And will break that ice of perfidy,
    Which made her thoughts crystalline.
    ©the_world_is_unknown(Udita)

  • the_world_is_unknown 3d

    SEARCH FOR TRANQUILITY

    Slowly,
    She makes her way on those forlorn paths,
    With those illustrious figures.
    On the paths,
    Where her emotions coalesced with
    Transcendent cosmos.
    And bounded her affection with shackles
    And now exclamates adios!

    But it became a land of tranquilty,
    Hidden from imitative felicity.
    Elated with peace,
    She rests her head
    Amidst some unfamiliar particles.
    And closes her eyes
    To rest in asphyxiation.

    Now,
    She imagines to drift blissfully
    In the emerald sees,
    But she wakes up with an inaudible scream
    When she is made to drown jubilantly
    In her nightmares away from tranquility.


    (She still wanders,
    Disregarding the vapours of whispers
    To find that land of tranquility.
    But at last she is bitten to death
    By her own inability.)
    ©the_world_is_unknown(Udita)
    ______________

    Timely post for #slowly ��
    Felt nice to be on time.
    #wod #pod #mirakee #ceesreposts #writersnetwork #mirakee

    @mirakee
    @writersnetwork thank you for the like❤️
    @fromwitchpen @squared @san_wordzz

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    ©the_world_is_unknown

  • the_world_is_unknown 4d

    // This may seem a page to you
    With just mere words,
    But they ornate the thoughts
    Sometimes in stanzas and sometimes in verse.

    When heart is full with euphoric felicity,
    It drops some ambiguous words.
    That is rare to this putrescent soul
    That poisons the world with emotions everyday.

    The words drop the ink of reminiscence,
    And stains a part of memories,
    And lays down the cobblestones
    For the emotions to create a history.

    Poems are resplendent family of words,
    That personify the beauty within a soul.
    Poems are lauded with paradoxes,
    That sometimes contradicts the soul.
    The anaphoras repeat
    Some inexplicit emotions of the soul,
    And sometimes even creates
    Utopian world that becomes a home for the soul.//

    ©the_world_is_unknown(Udita)

    _______________________________________
    I know I am not successful in penning down what I exactly felt today coz I am in a bewilderment.

    So I may delete it


    Anyways..... Felt like posting something

    @mirakee
    @writersnetwork

    @fromwitchpen @thelunareclipse @squared


    #arspoetica #wod #pod #mirakee #writersbay #poems #ceesreposts

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    ©the_world_is_unknown

  • the_world_is_unknown 1w

    Where am I from?
    From the obscure depths of pain,
    Or from the blood-filled patches of emotions.
    From the screams of dying,
    Or from the exsanguine womb filled with emotions.

    Maybe,
    I belong to those sleepless nights,
    When emotions were drunk under the street lights.
    When the lyrics of her mind,
    Didn't support the melody of her heart.

    Maybe,
    I am from those haunted memories of hers.
    Or from the sweet moments of her heart.
    Or from the dropped melody,
    That was watered with the metaphors that she dropped on that doleful path.
    ©the_world_is_unknown(Udita)
    ___________________________________


    I know it's a late post but I felt like doing lame attempt to write for today's pod.

    #roots #wod #ceesreposts #writersnetwork #mirakee #pod

    @mirakee
    @writersnetwork thank you soo much for the kind repost ��❤️ it means a lot. This appreciation will help me to keep writing ❤️

    @fromwitchpen @san_wordzz @squared missed tagging you all.❤️

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    ©the_world_is_unknown

  • the_world_is_unknown 6w

    . I hope I will write something new soon when the flowers of my imagination will bloom��





    Note: I am a bit addicted to mirakee now and sometimes I am in pressure due to not able to write. So I will be on break from today for two weeks.
    I will miss everyone ������ but it's a bit important for me to concentrate on studies as well.

    @mirakee
    Thank you soo much @writersnetwork to make this post memorable for me����

    #chastushka #wod #pod #mirakee #writersnetwork

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    Cassettes of memories,
    Pressed under the diaries
    Where the pastels cannot find me.
    Ink of reminiscence,
    Shies away from the fluorescence
    And finds the folkloric essence.
    ©the_world_is_unknown(Udita Sen)

  • the_world_is_unknown 7w

    When my breathless corpse will shed the last tear to live, bury it with the perpetual memories that I embedded on someone else's sky. The monochrome of my life that faded infront of the melancholic curtains will soon end.
    Bury the letters that is wrapped and kept in a corner where the darkness of new moon has not reached yet. The letters are still white and my soul will embrace it's letters one day when it will start to live in solitude with the warmth of the soil.
    Bury the pages that I picked up from the storm in my heart. The pages are yet to be inked with emotions when my soul will ink some treasures with the invisible tears of death.
    Bury the eternal pure love that was used to paint someone else's canvas leaving that of mine blank. The love that still opens some dilapidated windows of the heart that keeps changing its colour.
    Bury some thorns from my bed that I felt as the blessing of God while being half dead in my nightmares. The thorns that I dropped down intentionally on the deplorable albums of sorrow.
    Bury my ancient innocence which is trapped in the edifice of my sorrow.
    The serenity that flies in the skies full of fantasies aimless, homeless just flying and going away from the dreams that were once mine.
    Bury the emollient touch of my mom which will keep collecting my tears from the bloodless soul and will help my soul to cease one day.

    ~the_world_is_unknown(Udita)


    ******************************************

    #afterlife #ancientc #wod #pod #writersbay #ceesreposts #mirakee #writersnetwork

    @mirakee @writersnetwork
    @tamanna3 @the_frozenn_heart @fromwitchpen

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    Bury the perpetual memories
    That I embedded on someone else's sky.
    Bury the letters whose words
    Will be embraced by my soul one day.
    Bury the pages that I picked up
    From the storm of my heart.
    Bury the eternal pure love of mine
    That was used to paint someone else's canvas.
    Bury the emollient touch of my mother
    Which will help my soul to cease away one day.
    ©the_world_is_unknown

  • the_world_is_unknown 7w

    Ended up writing this.
    I know this doesn't seem to be like a typical fan letter but I tried.
    The books mentioned are imaginary

    #fanletter #pod #wod #mirakee #writersnetwork

    @mirakee @writersnetwork
    @tamanna3 @the_frozenn_heart


    @purvi7 missing you. I hope that you are well.

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    To,

    Writer

    0X.XX.XXXX

    Dear,
    I know this letter is as impossible to reach you as me living without the ink of sadness. I still see you in my dreams scribbling your thoughts and then just throwing the papers that don't suit what you imagine.
    I am not your biggest fan but an admirer of your thoughts (not writings). I read the thoughts that you used to prognosticate. The thoughts that used to float in the atmosphere of your mind which lacks serenity but you used to let them flow through your vessels via your fingers into wrinkled pages that you used to get from the coffin of your imagination. I have spent most of my uncertain life time, wandering for the end of your thoughts that flow like the endless rivers of rue. I still dig into the excavation sites of your heart (present into bottle of ice yet to rot but the smell fills my lungs today) to take out some torn yet present pieces of the page that someone gave you to keep hidden in the place where no one comes close.
    Your book "The crusades falling from the edge of heart" instilled some questions within me that I want to know but it's quite late but I still dig into the book read every word untill my breath takes a break to find the answers that may lie in the letters who substitute the feelings.
    I wonder how have you written 'Serenity in wounds', 'Roses of ashes'? I noticed something that every book has an incomplete end to emotions. When I read your first book 'Lashes that dream too' I felt like "such an unexpected end, no twists, no plot". But when I put my eyes into your other books I felt like the emotions are common. Some pain, some felicity combined with unexpected world lies in the heartfelt words. But these books never left questions in my mind. Every word full of serenity has cicatrices of pain but it's inevitable to express. I wonder why the emotions remain same like the air that flows everywhere leaving the same sooting effect everytime.

    'The crusades faling from the edge of heart' this book has my intense emotions. It made it's presence over my eyes multiple times. The harsh truth of reality that compensates with the extravagant dreams of love still leaves some questions.

    Questions and questions. I know that it's the most weirdest fan letter ever but I believe that you would have been upset with the fan letters you got till now cause no one asked these things to you that I will be asking. I think the questions that were never asked to you created a tornado of questions in your heart which whirls in the words.

    Only few questions from your last book (which demarcated the end of the thoughts that remain absent today) that 'Why the harsh reality needs to compensates' the situation can't be such that people live in dreams?
    'Why your emotions ended so abruptly in this just like this letter' I have seen incomplete end of emotions but abrupt endings raise questions.
    'Why the emotions in every book of yours is the same?'
    'Were you hurt by the reality of the presence of emotions?'
    Why...............................


    I know I am compiling this with a feeling that you are right now answering it but I know that it's an apostrophe. My questions will end the day when the words of your book will embrace my thoughts.
    Just like your emotions you ended abruptly from the world that you wanted to embrace, the world that you wanted to paint in the colours of serenity(From serenity of wounds). You are missed by many. Many people still pray for you. You were right that your enemies also pray for you once you are dead(From roses of ashes) but I never felt that you are gonna proof this and rest in the rivers that you adored forever. Your soul lies deep in the middle of black water yet to get it's influence. But your heart lies in the cold bottle that I picked up from the interface of the water that threw your heart thinking it to be a waste to make its influence.
    (No proper ending but..)
    (I hope to see you smiling from the heaven that didn't accept your soul. I want to hear noises of your laughing from the coffin that is digged right below that of mine.)

    With tears,
    Breathless admirer of thoughts.

  • the_world_is_unknown 8w

    "On the tomorrow night, two people noticed some strange movements in the river of reality, when they were passing by. They had no expectations to give a slightest bit of attention to the river but some drowning noises covered their aura. But to their suprise, there was no figure visible in that dark river. They took it to be casual as many figures drown in that uncertain river everyday with the hope to find their identity but they end up stopping their breath and getting bloated with dark water. As they moved ahead, they saw some some petals of black petunia. It was a gothic experience for them as they had never experienced it before. They were the sole inhabitants of the bank and they saw many figures in black diving in the river. They had always failed to stop one to dive but they tried everytime. They were collecting the broken peices of heart that float at the top of river everytime when one drowns. But acoording to them, they saw some broken peices of purple hearts aside a rock of metaphors. They searched for a long time but they couldn't find any person at the bank of river. As they moved ahead, they saw a hand protruding from the rock. There was a peice of paper made of uncertainties. Purple blood was flowing from the cut vessels and the paper was inked with purple. They read it. It said that, 'Unable to find a place to hide, we took this rocks shelter but we didn't know that this rock would kill our bodies and preserve our souls to see the destruction ahead everyday from the blind eyes of the metaphors of life. Please set fire on the rock and make us to flee." They ran away from there leaving the letter as it was not to be accepted by them. Today, a team of critics were sent to capture the souls but after hours they only found the body with two smiling faces and a black petunia with its bud yet too bloom."
    ©the_world_is_unknown(Udita)


    (People are still questioning ," Are the souls lying in the rock or in the bud of the black petunia?")




    ********************************************
    Tomorrow night- Darkest and longest night which is winter solistice.
    Black petunia- Blackest flower


    #headline #pod #wod #mirakee #ceesreposts #writersbay
    @mirakee thank you for this topic

    What ���������� ???
    Thank you soo much @writersnetwork for the kind repost❤️❤️ this was my first time

    @tamanna3 @the_frozenn_heart @fromwitchpen

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    Two souls were found suppressed under the metaphors of life!
    ©the_world_is_unknown(Udita)

  • the_world_is_unknown 8w

    Society=Perfect
    They question us but they just want an answer coz the answer is known to nobody.

    ________________________________




    It took an hour for me to put my thoughts and emotions in this peice. I don't know what kind of style is this but I tried to write something different and heartfelt for today's pod #contemporary
    #wod #ceesreposts #mirakee #writersbay #pod #society


    @mirakee thank you soo much for these amazing topics that open my mind a lot...
    @writersnetwork thank you for all the likes

    @tamanna3 @the_frozenn_heart @fromwitchpen

    #forests #burnt #betray #pod #wod #ceesreposts #mirakee

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    Bleeding relations- Exsanguine minds

    She:
    Whispers behind
    Making her traumatized.
    Walking being care free,
    Few provocations that make her dreams to flee.

    He:
    Those beseeching eyes,
    With the dream to fly,
    Gets hatred everywhere
    The dreamy tears get dry.

    She:
    Still she needs to use a concealer,
    To cover her blemishes.
    Still she needs to put some blush,
    To look cheerful though
    She is getting killed from the inside everyday.

    He:
    Hides his tears amidst his napkin,
    Can't reveal it to the society
    Coz people would snatch his
    Indentity and would question
    His purity.

    She:
    Stopped by those maculate hands,
    She finds herself incapacitated.
    Tears of losing her purity
    Blurs her eyes.

    He:
    Scribbles few rough thoughts
    On his aimless palm
    Not with a pen
    But with his eonian pain.

    She:
    She still tries to get out
    From those debased hands.
    People hear her cries
    Filled with the feeling of her soul that dies.

    He:
    He drops his palm and moves ahead.
    He still hides his tears
    In the absence of
    Those so called 'perfects'.

    She:
    Runs away without any tears,
    Her ears bleed
    With the questions
    Of being nondescript.

    He:
    His ears bleed
    With the questions
    Of being capable to fight,
    To stand in the storm without any fright.

    She:
    Smashes the doors,
    And lets her soul to bleed
    Leading to an exsanguine body
    Null and void.

    He:
    Stands on the barrier,
    Sees the world ending ahead.
    Gives a crooked smile
    With the feelings that cannot be said.

    She:
    Ties her neck full of hue and cry
    With a rope of insecurities.
    Finds a proper edge to hang
    Her insecurities and questions.

    She and he:
    All of a sudden silence intrudes the place. One dives down in the unceasing river of questions while the other hangs herself from the clift of questions.

    (Today, people say that destiny did so wrong with them but they don't realise that their destiny was written in red by those 'perfects' who make their place in hell.
    Destiny took away their life but preserved their gloomy souls who are still on a voyage to discover some answers to the questions of life and purity.
    They may not be together but their bodies lie beneath the warm, cosy soil that is yet to be alloyed.)
    ©the_world_is_unknown(Udita)