❖" Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, which we ascribe to heaven." -Shakesphere. ❖©All copyrights reserved.

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  • vangelis 22w

    Self note 1

    Being studious or staying strong
    is no more a trend.
    But chic, savage and thug
    is so cool now.
    I'll blame movies and social media for this.....

  • vangelis 22w

    I'll delete it later...��...cuz I don't know what this is....������ Good night, dear writers.....������

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    Good night...

    The stars have met.
    The lights have set.
    All love is dead.
    We're barely alive.
    Yet, night is peace.
    Never ending dreams
    Wish the stars goodnight.


  • vangelis 22w

    Words used:
    SET A- Weird
    SET B- The stars in your eyes shall live longer than history......

    I really wanted to write a long poem. But I couldn't...I simply couldn't......

    #combination #wod
    #miraquill @writersnetwork

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    Eyes hold a camouflaged candour
    away from a mercenary soldier.
    But murky mirror once aquainted
    the evoked galaxy in your eyes.

    Thou eyes elevated the world
    and painted it with hues
    which bind the well knitted knot
    that engraved my reflection.

    Don't blemish your gleaming eyes,
    The veil of the sky is so weird, Oh dear-
    for the stars in your eyes
    shall live longer than history.

  • vangelis 22w

    ☀️��Let's take a ride to the memories ��️��
    #creative #wod #pod #mywritingspace

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    The sun woke me up from my slothful sleep. The coffee beans called me. As I take a sip of the warm morning coffee and lay the newspaper, I felt bizzare. Something was strange today. The cold breeze brushing past my face had numbed my senses and the scent of a distant lover unsettled my inner storm. The floor beneath my feet seemed to vanish into thin air. It's another usual day. Never mind. I sat down to finish my task. I could sense the light disappearing around me. I lifted my head to open my eyes. For the first time, I saw the world around me. Wind whispered something in my ears. It was the song 'Still they ride'. As I stood up, the floor vanished into thin air again and I felt like a bubble floating and dancing with the wind. 'Traffic lights , keepin' time...Leading the wild and restless'...I sang heart out...I smiled at the wind, giving a farewell for they've held my hands and led me to the old me.
    Bum.....! I opened my eyes. The sky was blue and the day felt warm again. I was in a different world a while ago and now it's time to get up and pack myself up to the office with the thousand memories of my childhood packed up in the lacuna that time left inside me. Yes...Time is a true player.....

  • vangelis 22w

    Hii....��️��️��️��️This is a sudden poem. Here 'the candle��️' is one's life.... 'the flame' refers to the dream that one keep in his/her heart, no matter whether it get blown away ��️ or melt the candle completely ��...Hope it makes sense....��️��️��️��️

    @writersnetwork @miraquill #solitude #littlesmiles #writingtime #happy #alone #dreams #wings #candle

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    Light of a blaze.

    I was a small scented candle.
    The sky kindled my lone flame.
    My dazzling blaze filled the air
    but the faint daytime moon bade me
    to keep it away from the brawny wind.
    I opted to hide my flame.

    I forged my tattered wings to fly away
    to those timeless dreamless sleeps.
    Flame became my blanket
    and I became a hope.

  • vangelis 23w


    On one side of a busy street there was a shop that sold beautiful flowers. Inside the shop there lived little melody, a gleeful seven years old girl. She was the gem of her father and mother. She was so cheerful and her voice was so melodious just like her name. People called her little birdie. Everyday, as father went out in the morning to graze the sheep, she sat near the rattled window of the shop with her mother who sold the flowers. She watched the flowers dancing with the wind that came from the mountain. Daytime was cheerful, but when night approched , this little family will close the shop, move to the basement where no one can find them and will wait until father come back. One night, little melody heared a song from their shop. She kept on listening it. Her mother told her that was a Hermit thrush bird. The song was so pleasant. Melody wanted to see the bird but she was not allowed to go up the shop at night. The next morning as she was watching the floral buds, she saw the bird flying away. She felt sad as she wanted the bird to stay there. She peeped out of the door. Her mother was watering the plants. She stepped out, unnoticed. She ran down the street calling for the bird. She saw the bird sitting on a branch. She ran towards the bird ,asking it to come back. A werewolf who was shopping nearby saw her. The hermit thrust flew away in a flash. The werewolf called her gently, called the bird with her and held her little arms. They disappeared around the shadows of the street. Nobody could see Melody and the Hermit Thrust again. People said " The shadow of the street swallowed them.

    #mywriting #melody @writersnetwork
    Failed attempt....Cuz I couldn't convey the idea properly .....��...Anyway, improvement is a slow process ....����

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    The faded song.

    The story of a brief song that was swallowed by the shadows.

  • vangelis 24w

    _��You don't belong here��_

    Oh kind hearts, hear me out for I say-
    you belong to somewhere but not here .
    Here is no fit for you to not get hurt
    for this world is too dark and muddy.
    Time floats away leaving the last traces
    of good deeds that sinks in the sand
    brimming the hearts and mixing up
    all the light and dark that we've got.
    People forget that they belong to
    each other and about the mortal life
    that even looking back won't help you
    to feel the sence of belonging and love.
    Oh kind hearts,
    Build a barricade around your soft heart-
    and protect it from the deeds of this world
    Throw kindness around like confetti but
    stay away from the thrones of the red rose.

    ��Just an attempt.....May remove this later.....
    #belongc @writersnetwork @miraquill

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    You don't belong here.

    You belong to where you can be you.

  • vangelis 24w

    ��Let's build a sky inside us so as to spread our wings and fly away to a far away land��
    Not that well versed. Not a perfect prose.....Hope I'll get better in writing eventually������...

    #prose #pod #nightfall #miraquill #writersnetwork
    @miraquill @writersnetwork

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    The Nightfall.

    I borrowed a handful of blue sky from my last lover and merged it with my dark sunset sky
    as a souvenir for my elapsed mind to cherish
    as I sing a lullaby to those cataleptic clouds.
    I tried to paint stars with my sequin-silver and some scaled down birthstone-blue but alas
    the stars winked at me and called out for him
    And drifted away, sundering me to a lone vale.
    Soon the sparrow sung the evening song
    And nightfall swallowed the forlorn vale
    'Open your eyes, my dear' he called me
    As I smiled at my last lover, the moon again.....

  • vangelis 25w

    ��Pls don't be like me.����. Kill the idleness in you....#mysighpoem

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    Days became traffic jams where
    I opened my eyes to the usual alarm and
    I turned it off and slept again. No Fridays
    or Mondays here, we've got only today.
    When I just tap on my phone everyday,
    I realised that hours passed by.
    Afternoon naps usually felt short. But
    I always opened my eyes to new dimensions and kept searching to find if
    it is morning or evening. Some said
    'Oh! this child is only good in sleeping and eating". Indeed, I agree with a sigh
    at the end of each day.

  • vangelis 25w

    Hii....��While I was diving deep in my lessons, I saw a broken paintbrush in my mind.��️......What do you interpret from this small poem? Tell me in the comment sections��....
    All copyrights reserved...
    @writersnetwork #solitude

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    The broken

    Among the fierce boulders
    on the banks of a brook
    lay a broken paint brush
    that was once cherished
    by the trembling hands
    of a man who wanted to
    fill the void in solace
    and sing a melancholy tune
    for the summer breeze.
    Bygone by the crowd,
    unminded of the thousand hue
    that are left behind,
    it lay as the reminiscence
    of a lost soul.