who are abandoned by hatred... It accepts those who believes in it, It blooms where there is a hope Love illuminates from within where there is a space... It never fades away Even grew stronger n stronger with the passage of time...
Wishing the wonderful writers a very happy n prosperous new year... thank you so much for all the love n appreciation n the constant support ❤️
Poems are made up of few heart breaks, joy n expectations It's a blend of numerous thoughts and a thousands of emotions that are unsaid... Poets are more like a painter they can paint their black n white life into different hues, that one can't even think of... Have an amalgamation of metaphors n similes, that have tangible essence of raw feelings... May be rusted memories n heart warming tales...
Poetries are untold stories or hidden emotions wrapped in the packets of tears, joy , laughter, pain n some of the treasured memories ❄️.
With lots of best wishes... wishing you all a Merry Christmas ⛄ Stay safe amazing writers here.
We live in our stories, We shared a lot in common, N came a long way from mere chats to sophisticated poetries filled with smilies n metaphors... Hidden emotions takes the shapes of vindictive muses... A chapter near to closer to make a way for the new one to be continued... ✨.
I feel like writing something after a long time... ...
Thank you wonderful writers for all your love❤️... Hope you all are keeping up with your good health. I know its late but I completed this prompt today only after facing writer's block from past few weeks.... I just tried to penned down this after a break.
Pic - Rightful owner
I borrowed a handful of blue skies from my last lover and spread it over my ached wounds and they are on their way to healing, I have stiched those wounds with a thread of love... Then applied tincture of hope to it, Wrapped that with a bandage of care because we both have promised To stay together at the time of crises, Even after our separation... We are still trying to lit our tiny world with a fist full of sunshine and laughter...
Beside sequoia , grasping how helplessly sufficient a giant is , where soul bombinates in epiphany , Eschscholzia helps me to reach to station Where supercalifragilisticexpialidocious part of me , Waits for me .
I want a motel where Starlights can glow my facade , Whenever my oceanic face faces hiraeth Cascading waterfalls dumping all lacrimal reservoirs In the vaccum radiance of black soil .
A #place , where seas are transient And humans hold the feature of a sea , Ineffable words , perpetual motions Pose - Supine , counting life of dappled stars Strum with melody , not melancholy .
Yes , I'm a seeker of beauty So I want to spend my sights in huts of dusk too , To tie limerence of noon On the cheeks of her , Everything is ethereal but not real .
~ a pointless pebble , fortunate enough to get warmth of cursed summer , calmness of water queen and that smile which comes after a huge rainfall when sun shadows that transient.
|| Sequoia : a huge tree found in California || || supercalifragilisticexpialidocious : extraordinarily wonderful || || Bombinate : to produce a humming sound . || Ineffable : too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words || || Supine : a posture facing upwards || || Lacrimal : a gland responsible for tears || || Beauty : ( metaphorically ) affection || || Limerence : beautiful state of mind ||
Standing in the balcony Staring at the crescent Moon I shall write something Now its calm and bright My pain touched the feets Of sky and smile painted The bleached clouds My thoughts were dead In the morning but They took birth again Coz' its the night the Favourite time of mine I am Unclouding the hiraeth and ambrosial scattered words Which were decaying under the Gulmohar tree as my soul is decaying in his memories And i am holding the heart Of Sylvia plath which has The veins of depression i see the plight Around me growing with the Deep roots and I take out the fragile Pages To write one more poetry yet It was left incomplete One day surely i will I complete my poetries With mournful metaphors Underlining the title With the milkyway Rhyming it with my Arcane scars I will decorate it With the somber sonnets And finally i will Tie my poetries With the kite let them Fly high and let my Words too celebrate The freedom and find Their own home Between the glooming Sun and the cold moon.