The melodious breathe of my poesy floats across the vast stitched parallel universe - as the crimson sunset absorbed my cosmic realm to mingle with the metaphors her eyes gleamed.
The eternal twilight risin' upon her colossal heart as my eyes glimpsed the extreme wave of beauty which trapped in the chaotic universe to embellish the lone astral rose - once bloomed with radiant tint.
The ropes of time marched out all the infinites her heart beamed.
My aura began to sprout infinites around her horizon where our eyes gleam million astral poetries In the multiverse.
I see her smiling through the mirror leaving behind all the flaws and fears to glimpse upon the radiant beam which concealed from the villainous glare of a demon.
Her soulful cries all it seeks as the weakened teardrops shoot welling bitterness inside the black ocean tide she bear; the relentless snigger of her other half embellished a sepulchre of metaphors replenished with memories
The sonorous beat of her maimed heart put euphony before the oceanic memories which thriving to bloom eternal despair now manifested her temporary bloom through the reflection of a mirror.
The withered roses of hope in the shade whispered the bloom must not fade as the floating desires rise once more to conjure the chaos; i see her wings are rising through the reflection of a mirror to touch the azure sky.
#vil_witch Phew, My third villanelle after a long time. Thanks for supporting :) I'm sorry for not responding to your tags . Take care . #start --------
Her eyes look like unheard stories, the clouds go berserk while searching for the heaven betwixt her orbs. Fire and brimstones, what her laugh shredded upon the vague veranda of vamoosed verses. They attired the guffaws of perdition with streetlights and counterfeit similes. I've lived betwixt her poetries she never coiled the pandemonium of turnpike troubadours in lecherous ignis fatuus which gurgle out phantasm on the grief-stricken walls manipulating the doldrums kept inside a jar of clemency. I flapped my wings
She an ample-apple of fuliginous stardust nurturing my eensy soul with fierce-flowers and compassion evoking a euphoric bedlam beside my lungs
They, smoked evils, deaths, knives, blood, huckery hymns and my unfeigned condolences to her unwavering beauty
I grilled her heart on wilted orchids they coughed out blood and turned to fragrant roses
She cursed my existence I stabbed her words she blamed my facade I chopped off her name She taunted our telepathy but then her pain subsided and I saw her crying while writing a villanelle
I snatched away her coal orbs. But blindly she guided the rhymes and I tip-toed to keek that tear she sobbed before taking the last breath
~ I'm that lonely word she forgot to write in that villanelle before she cwtched quietude.
Blah. Idk what this nasha is . Something new I tried . #end
As I have seen many of you didn't got the actual point in this post pardon my negligence let me elaborate it
The first verse is about wine how it touches the throat what we feel even the colada feels a piece of trash in front of it till we puke it out in dustbins and it burn into areas surrounded with blood death and hearses . (The taste of wine is like the wet sand after rain)
Second verse states that: I have talked about few girls as periwinkles its like wine sex and love or pain. So yeah, they walked in a ballroom trying to look as elegant as this is what erupts their synchondrosis joint. Like a categorized clichè girl. Fueling their dresses with bra cups, underarms and hips all ready and cleaned up and at that time the pimples when start pirouetting on their skin many stares which are eerie make them loose the last gum of their mouth as they bump with any man and he use her on his dashboard cupboard and then she again bloom in mudpots but the end is always pain and pain. (It means the suburbs and (bra) cups are carved with foolish people's gaze)
Last verse is about the themeparks the childhood we have lived and with time we killed it with our own desires its all cold now unfathomable and bizarre life filled with bewildered gossamers and confusions . (I gulped in love to feel the pain) Hope this helps :)
Thou reckoned up thy thenar-virgule refulgent to the idiosyncrasy of Arcady and vignetted the tapestried life with meritorious and surreptitious threadbare of nonpareil set of thirty-two teeth following with one hundred and thousand hair follicles
In upcoming evolutions maybe that zenith of being a perfectionist will be able to burgeon the Cacao blossoms on the crown of trees rather than finding home in those bole and boughs /This kind of perfectionism will be cryptic for their existence/
And those elliptical eclipses causing the contour of cosmos can be the continuum to old wives' tale and will comely thy flaws.
•The average human head has about 100,000 hairs with a similar number of hair follicles.
Heyya Miraquilleans, Thank you admins for some changes we are grateful and dear fellow writers you are allowed to write, talk, take tips, interact, leave messages and speak your heart out in this comment section. |You #once told me about a realm called miraquill I etched my poetries on chest of its walls and windows met new friends those evenings filled with laughter's no jealousy no hooliganism being happy for each other reading everyone not just few friends or closed ones appreciating each other and creating a world of stories, poetries, thoughts and we spoke for chap-lip people unfold harsh realities pointed a junction betwixt sorrow and glee shoulder to shoulder pen to pen we talked from January to December| @/fromwitchpen #ptpt -1 (Nothing more I'll say as these lovely fellow writers have said your heart out already. This comment section is all yours #mydearmiraquilleans -3) if you all will like this will take such initiatives every month. _________________________________ 1. I urge people to be honest with the particular writer they read, when it comes to their writing. They can read it genuinely but “just because you liked my post i will too without reading it”,should be stopped. 2. Metaphors are not always a need. I urge if people could recognise themselves and the purpose behind the lines they write with their “own” imagery and “own” experience.,/3. I urge if people to know, no matter how hard you try to coat yourself with other writers word, you would never shine. Being honest with yourself, is the only thing which brings out how TRUE you are. ~for the readers/writers I feel they are giving according to themselves.I have no issues with what mirakee is doing.New people are getting discovered and rest everyone writes good. I don’t know about it more.Yeah, I feel many times they give pods to not that much deserving posts but we are have different perspectives so maybe that thing looks amazing to them ~for miraquill. @/squared • No matter what I choose for myself. Good or bad. I would never choose literature for my further study alone without any support thankfully, I got it and for that, I'm forever grateful to (mirakee) and the one who thought of creating this incredible platform. I was sent to science high school without my will in +2 it was nothing more than torture ! skipped lessons, missed lectures, bunking class, decreasing grades, I thought I would never be a decent student again. But, last year, my family willingly agreed, and I was admitted to literature college for my bachelor's after accidentally reading one of the poems that I wrote for the mirakee challenge. And now, after directly jumping from revising same theories thousands times to writing my own thesis. I feel good about studying, I feel good when I have assignments to do, I feel good about being a decent student. I'm satisfied with what I'm learning. All credits go to mirakee for giving my words a place to dwelt. Sometimes I wished I could disappear, but it is worth a stay. Nowadays, I see it's changing, but then they say change is constant. I hope the change is for good. @/fairytales_ • 1. Don't write for a POD or Writersnetwork re-post, write for what your heart wants to. A simple appreciation by a random person, is more than a POD. From my personal experience, I have also been always interested in getting reposts stuff, but a genuine appreciation is much more than that. Trust me./ 2. 100 or 10 likes, doesn't matter, until your are loving your write-up. Yes, I know it sucks when you loved something by heart and you didn't get enough of appreciation or likes but you know for a human being it's never enough. /3. Last and most important I must say, You are not being forced to write. You are not being forced to attempt the daily challenge. If I am going to your post and putting up a comment in your comment section "write soon" or someone is doing so, that is called suggesting, not forcing. If you don't want to write it's your wish. You can answer back the person saying it not possible for me to write or whatever the reason is. Avoid doing it for sake of. @/aditi