tigress_writes

Drowning in my own thoughts. I wish not, to be saved. #clawsof_rawink

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  • tigress_writes 68w

    I stood on the reef,
    That reflected my fears...

    Stranded between letters,

    I found hope being refracted
    Between the epochs of my life.

    ©Tigress_writes ��
    ¶9.8.20|7:10 pm(GMT+5:30)

    ~^~^~^~^~^~
    #stranded

    P. S I just in a mood to write, ignore me being lame.

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    /REEF
    reflects my
    FEAR/
    ~ I stood stranded
    among these letter ~

    /HOPE
    refracted in between
    EPO(C)Hs/

  • tigress_writes 68w

    ༄༄༄Tᕼᗴ ᗴᑎᗪ(ᒪᗴՏՏ) ᗴᑭIᒪOᘜᑌᗴ Oᖴ ᕼOᑭᗴ.
    ᖴOᑌᑎᗪ 10 ᖴᗴᗴTՏ ᑌᑎᗪᗴᖇ w̶a̶t̶e̶r̶(ᖴᗩᒪᒪՏ).༄༄༄

    ������������������, �� �������� �������� �������� ���� �� �������������� ����������, �������� ������������́�� ����������, ���������� �� ���� ���������� ���� �������������� �������� ������ �������� ����������. My fingers have created ridges on it's 'happily ever after' page, trying desperately to seek an epilogue that never ends.

    /How happy, can 'after's be?
    Is happiness episodic or is it an exhaustive, stretched out movie?
    What would you prefer, it to be?/

    There is a bottomless whirlpool swirling in mind, that seeks no end. And I just want to open my arms, and feel each of its crushing waves pass over me.

    Barbed wires, had many times, scratched the windows of my soul, making me see mists over my sanguine skys. It is at those times, hope seemed like a lost paper boat, in a futile attempt to survive, a rainstorm. I have stopped making origami, then on. The day I watched that paper boat drown...
    False hope.
    It felt like sucking on a bitter candy, the after taste, of which, has never left my mouth. Its countless assaults, have hurricaned the stitches, which I am trying to heal.
    Yet, I have accustomed myself to the smell of fatigue, when time, silently visits in acknowledgement, letting me know of its presence.
    It has become customary, for me, to stay 10 feets under w̶a̶t̶e̶r̶(falls). So much so that it feels tedious to come out of it,
    to breathe. But I need to.
    I need to b-r-e-a-t-h-e.To survive.
    And when I do come up for a gulp of air,
    I might as well enjoy,
    the scene of
    the crimson sun,
    setting,
    on my
    L
    I
    F
    E.

    ©Tigress_writes ��
    ¶9.8.20|1:05 am(GMT+5:30)

    ~^~^~^~^~^~

    P. S Reader, I hope you get the pun in the last line.


    The first sentence(in bold) is not mine. It was a beautiful prompt given be @_rainforest_ Thank you!
    This is my *attempt* for it.
    #rf_licon_ch

    ~Pic from Pinterest

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #pod
    #clawsof_rawink #August20_musings #Hope

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  • tigress_writes 68w

    He was the mystical senex, that had survived through the currents of time. Spouting splutters of utility, whenever robustness needed a hand - that was his art.
    If you were among those talented titans, you would realise that his adroitness hardly lacked a stream which he hadn't knocked upon. His pot-belly that could contain almost anything, didn't deter a speck of his gracefulness.
    With orbs and Gills of aquamarine, he reciprocated only to fluidity (his only weakness, if any). Everytime, they played with his wise beard, he gave them irrigations of usage instead.

    ©Tigress_writes ��

    ¶6.8.20|1:45 pm(GMT+5:30)

    ~^~^~^~^~^~

    P. S This was made to smile, so pls do :))

    ~Challenge : To create a small drawing of literally what you described ~
    By @cyan_rose

    ~Pic : me����

    @bluepuppy01 I thoroughly, had fun with this challenge, I hope you enjoy reading it too xD ( This may not be what you had in mind, I just had fun with it ;-P )
    #blue_literally
    #missionsby_blue

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  • tigress_writes 68w

    .

    As a child, I drew hearts on flowing waters, and watched them being washed away by bubbles.
    I should have learnt my lesson then. Hearts weren't a permanent creation.

    That day never ended, it's on a replay under different disguises..
    ������
    Tendrils of hope, tightened around my closed fist.
    Tumultuous emotions played Tabata inside.
    Tired and torn between being
    thawed and tethered.
    Among thousands of push-buttons
    None, remotely belonged to me.
    Trust was a fragile favour,
    laying in my ruins, like an overused pan,
    Leaking lavas of emotions,
    Between the labyrinthine Legos of life.

    ©Tigress_writes ��

    ¶4.8.20|7:30 pm(GMT+5:30)

    P. S I should just stick to prose, I guess. Poems aren't my thing. ��

    ~^~^~^~^~^~
    ~Pic from Pinterest

    @mirakee #pod @writersnetwork @writersbay #alliterationc #August20_musings #clawsof_rawink #ceesrepost #freeverse

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  • tigress_writes 68w

    Buoyant canvases are but
    covers under pale washes of tears..

    ©Tigress_writes ��

    ¶4.8.20|2:06 pm(GMT+5:30)

    P. S this a modified version of one of my old writes

    ~^~^~^~^~^~
    @mirakee #tears @writersnetwork #pod #August20_musings #clawsof_rawink #ceesrepost

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    ︎︎︎︎︎︎︎ ︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎ ︎︎︎ ︎︎︎ ︎︎︎︎︎︎ ︎︎︎︎︎

    sɹɐǝʇ ɟo sǝɥsɐʍ ǝlɐd  

  • tigress_writes 69w

    From the depth of my yarns, I tried to pull out a few strings of poetry,
    But words sat on my needle, weaving a magical carpet, as if on spree.
    They flew me on it, helping me escape from the eccentric loop, I was stuck in.
    Like the ceiling fan above me, I had constantly been going around in circles,
    Doing only the service of fanning my negativity.
    They took me to the jungle of abstract thoughts, where fear and hope flexed their arms while crossing each other's path in the labyrinth of life.
    We hovered over the polished badges of honour and expectations. The ones that were used like Devil's ivy for decorating window frames but soon got entangled and marred the view.
    We sat on different tables, under piles of withered pages and watched the suppressed revolts within the eyes of many.
    Often, we stopped by the stream of grieving narratives. While we watched it flow it's own tortuous course, we sipped on its lessons, building our own wall of concrete, wishing to be protected from the same mistakes.
    The carpet of words frequently grew heavy. It Crinkled. Sometimes in hopelessness and other times in anger. As if searching for some key outlet. To vent and be soaked among pages, with love. It was then, i chanced upon gems that slit a part of themselves to craft their vase of dexterity. Who molded it delicately, with slight pinches of letters soaked in cups of rawness. When the artwork was ready, they left it on the windowsill for the passersby to see.
    ������

    Words were always the most beautiful creation, and I loved being the passerby.

    ©Tigress_writes ��

    ¶3.8.20|10:00 pm(GMT+5:30)

    P. S writer's block and me are trying to be friends for now ^-^" so i just went ahead and tried to personify words.

    ~^~^~^~^~^~
    ~Pic from Pinterest

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #pod #five #August20_musings #clawsof_rawink #ceesrepost #writersblock #lame

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    When my paths get crossed, I constantly ink the thoughts within
    and let my words flow.
    I am sure I'll find my key,
    somewhere in between.

  • tigress_writes 70w

    We usually use a person's behaviour as an excuse behind our anger or unreasonable actions. It's become a redundant habit.
    "Are we that weak to be a puppet of someone's response?"
    This life lesson was inspired by one of my college professors. I admire her. I dedicate this to her.
    __________________________________________________

    I had lost my remote.
    Or maybe the joystick buttons weren't functional anymore.
    I didn't care, though.
    You see, it was easier being left that way. Rather than having obstacles pinch my way on finding my control.
    I had tried, you see,
    To stitch my ribcage and seal my heart inside
    but there were still wolves out there,
    that rose like a sun
    sneaking over the mountain,
    To devour my secrets. My weaknesses.
    I was tired of humming the same tune. My lungs were out of breathe.
    I felt like a captured parrot, with clipped wings.
    It wasn't fun sitting in the passenger's seat anymore.
    The earth is a sward, and we pick lilies of our choices, I had heard.
    And so my (r)evolution began.
    The spider's web I had spun around my ribcage, I strengthed it with the colourful knots of resilience and buoyancy, with skillful hands of self-control.
    I became that halcyon bird that fanned its tiny wings to calm the boiling ocean waters. It wasn't all plain sailing. The obstacles were as real and restricting as before. The only difference was that now, I enjoyed surfing through them.
    Now that I have captured the reins of my own cruise,
    I look down at the wolves circling my mountain, I kiss them goodbye.

    ©Tigress_writes ��

    ¶26.7.20|10:40 pm(GMT+5 :30)

    ~^~^~^~^~^~
    ~Pic from Pinterest

    P. S Just wanted to write on this topic, may not have done justice to it.

    @mirakee #capture @writersnetwork #pod
    #clawsof_rawink #July20_musings #control
    #mentorteachings

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  • tigress_writes 70w

    ___________________6:00pm_______________________

    ������

    A time when everyone is in momentary slumber.
    Yet, for me, it's a time of awakening.
    When the sun isn't blinding bright, with piercing sunlight. The truth needs to be curtained, to be safe.
    Neither is it too dark, to disguise the reality.
    While the bending, pale, yellow light, enters my room my reflective cosmoses are clear enough, like the silhouettes of my old trophies hurled against the walls. They all stand in silence, as if contemplating with me.
    I hide behind my armour of conscience, tired of the ever changing world.
    Like the phases of the moon, the right and wrong
    are undefined and evolutionary.
    Where glory and beauty, are those magical fireworks that brighten in one minute
    and diminish in the other.
    Smiles are left to wither as flowers of time.
    The tumultuous, wild horses in my mind try to seek shelter under the vast orange yonder.
    With each passing zephyrs, the colours of my life have changed. There were times when, I have felt like a black hole, consuming the slightest ray of light. Now, I stare at those old trophies again, my past accomplishments. How long will I hold on to these relics to satisfy the grazed fields of my self esteem?
    A perpetual sigh follows.
    I watch the sun dipping into the lava of seen and unseen. The horizon of uncertainty.
    The armour of my conscience is rusted. It's injured heavily. Whilst trying to keep me afloat against the crushing waves of time.
    Will my soul come out of this, alive?

    ©Tigress_writes ��

    ¶24.7.20|6:00 pm(GMT+5:30)

    ~^~^~^~^~^~
    ~Pic from Pinterest

    P. S This may not make sense. My ink just flowed.

    ��Thank you @writersnetwork ♡︎♡︎
    Wasn't expected. Really grateful!

    #readwritersbay
    @mirakee @writersnetwork @writersbay @bluepuppy01 @cyan_rose #pod
    #timec #blue_armor #missionsby_blue #July20_musings #clawsof_rawink

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    Under the chokehold of time...

  • tigress_writes 71w

    ������������.
    A paper plane that carries your secret wishes. Wishes that you once clasped between your palms, then whispered them to the winds.
    Or
    Is it a fiery sword drawn by the night's sky as a burning promise?

    ��������������.
    A beacon of life that bounces merrily, when petted with delicate touches.
    Or
    Or is it a symbol of suffering as it struggles to sprout under the burden of soil on its shoulders?

    ℝ������.
    The warmth on your eyelids, that waters down your worries, as you welcome it with open arms.
    Or
    A batch of soldiers that excitedly rush down from the sky, only to loose their individuality in muddy pools.

    ℝ������������.
    A beautiful 7-coloured ring. That gives a blissful imagination of unicorns sliding down its rims.
    Or
    Is it laughable to see how easily that sad smile is masked behind a sprinkle of hues?

    I am not trying to put a grey filter to your sunny shades. It's just a matter of perspectives. While I choose to see the broken wings and bleeding hopes stacked up, you see the completed lego of a pretty smile.
    Yet, as I stand here, I realize that I have long lost my cozy blanket of pity. If I could be a strong mountain, I would be a mountain filled with herbs that heal.
    ©Tigress_writes ��

    ¶19.7.20| 12:20 am(GMT+5:30)

    ~^~^~^~^~^~
    ~Pic from Pinterest

    P. S This is what happens when you don't write for long... It's lame ik - _ -

    @mirakee @writersnetwork
    #pod #randomthoughts #July20_musings #clawsof_rawink

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    Just another perspective...

  • tigress_writes 72w

    Assertiveness is an artwork assembled through adamantine ripples...

    ©Tigress_writes ��

    ¶12.7.20|1:00 pm(GMT+5:30)

    ~^~^~^~^~^~
    ~Pic from Pinterest

    @writersnetwork @mirakee @writersbay #ripplec #oneliner #July20_musings #clawsof_rawink
    #learntosayNO

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