It's a bittersweet reality we often find ourselves in. This indescribable feeling, so extraordinary and elusive, is something that not everyone can experience. And for those who do, finding the right words to express it becomes a daunting task. The pain it brings is intensified by the fact that we have no control over it, yet this is one of life's greatest lessons - learning to accept the art of letting go. In silence, we hold back our emotions, unsure if the person we're sharing them with would truly understand the depth of our feelings. Sometimes, it's best to release them into the universe and let them go. But deep within, a glimmer of hope remains, believing that if it was meant to be, it will find its way back to us someday, staying by our side when the time is right. This beautiful yet complex journey of love teaches us resilience, patience, and the significance of self-discovery. It reminds us that not all things are within our grasp, and that's okay. Embracing the uncertainties of love is an art in itself, one that not everyone learns, but those who do find a profound understanding of life's intricacies. So, my friend, hold onto that little flicker of hope in your heart, and trust that love will find its way back to you when it's meant to be. Until then, cherish the lessons learned and continue to grow in the art of letting go.💙 @a_life_in_my_cerebrum #writing #bleedink #storyofahungrygirl #hearherscreamletitgo #lostLove ✨
I am an impious eunuch peeking through curtains of faith to have a look at you while you are a Sultana engrossed in the Surahs of the Qur'an stirring the cauldrons of knowledge ahead of your age. I lisp about the delusional village I once called home. The faces of my family have evaporated into translucent fog. Chaos has outlined me with its fingers while you are a plain slate awaiting chalks that speak in colors You do not realize where you have come from but you know where to go when the last Jummah ascends and the sky barks a handful of lessons. -In the arms of eternity decorated with rose bushes and rivers of honey. You see, we have created a world where the yin and the yang inhale in the same sea but never submerge into each other no matter how hard the waves slap us. Your calligraphy reads, Ishq e awwal ko duja na kar Zaat apni ko tu Pooja na kar and I name you my God. Because who else do I worship? The one whom I have never seen or the one who blindly believes in whom she has never seen. You have always been silent in the world and now in your grave. Do you hear it when I hum sonnets of hope and songs that last more than life on earth? Mohabbaten bandon ko dey Ishq pe haqq bas alif ka hai bandeya In the end, I chant The last lines of your journal and almost bid you farewell but then there's another day when I find myself here again making up memory and revisiting anything that happened between us (bowing of heads/ greets/ eye contact) and everything that didn't. by Khatija Khan (@sparksofher)
Choose your peace 🥀 . . . . . Follow @soulxlovee for more . . Save this Post and share with your friends #quotepoetry #quoteoftheday #lovequotes #lifequote #hurtinginside #onesidedlove #brokenquotes143 #broken #brokenquotes #bleedink #sad__lovers #sadquotestumblr #sadsongs
#watercolors #painting #drawing #bleedink ◯●
I've not been loved enough but I know my flaws like a lover knows heartbreak. my lips are parted aberrations often speaking the language of silence misunderstood. they don't kiss like the petals of a flower kiss the rain, they kiss like water kisses the sand to become the ocean. my heart, a needle, accidentally sewing blankets that don't fit me but the rest of the world call me warmth. it is often misplaced, like one of those words you outgrow from when you first liked it as a child. my thighs, bridges almost breaking, with stretch marks like lightning that almost look perfect when held by hands that don't demand all my air to be breath. my legs, wavy and broad like the verse of your favourite song that doesn't make sense but somehow fits enough to hold your playlist together. my hands have not been brought up to hold onto things, but they have memorised how not to let go. a firm handshake, a shy wave, five fingers that entwine another five by familiarity, to form a fist with a heartbeat, my hands have known to be in love like the sun has known to burn. I'm as tall as a borrowed cigarette slowly destroying herself under the flames of time ~ I could be more but for now, I'm a vase choking on flowers because I'm this close to pretending my existence is pure spring. there are collarbones that twine my neck, dimples that I have inherited after a great war between fatherhood and family, there are moles in places that my favourite person connects so gently, I almost call my body a constellation and weep at the memory of this perfection. what do you call an intentional accident? a missed chance at hope? teardrops that were birthed human? a poet so loved, she was almost the muse? maybe me. almost me. hopefully me. ~ nivi / making myself my muse by Niveditha (@authornivi)
Hey my friends, I missed writing too much. I’m back ❤️ hope you enjoy #DarkPoetry #PoeticSouls #NarcissismAwareness #PoetrylsNotDead #NarcissistFree #BleedInk #SpilledThoughts #NarcissisticAbuse #InkyWords #NPDRecovery #PoetryCommunity #SilentScreams #NarcissistSurvivor #GothicPoetry #Narcopath #WordWeaver #SociopathFree #EmoPoetry #BreakTheSilence #WhisperedWords #EmotionalAbuseSurvivor #DeepVerse #ShadesofSorrow #EndNarcissism #Emotioninink #NarcissisticPersonalityDisorder #FragileWords #DarkenedPoetry #HealingFromNarcissism #PoeticJustice
Chpt: *MEMORIES* 💙 @a_life_in_my_cerebrum #writing #bleedink #storyofahungrygirl #hearherscreamletitgo #newmonthnewgoals #memories #nostalgic✨
Listen to your heart. It knows all things.💙 @a_life_in_my_cerebrum #writing #bleedink #storyofahungrygirl #hearherscreamletitgo #newmonthnewgoals
A writers first love belongs to their first pen. That first sentence. That first essay. Story. Poem. That first draft. A writers first love will never be you. We’re the ones who will bail on you to chase sonnets in sunsets. Rapture on road trips - solo ones. The ones we can drift down our minds with. Perfectly at ease down deserted roads. No other distractions in sight. Just the terrain and our thoughts. Off grid. We’re a heartless unruly lot. Content without conformity. Social norms are non applicable. We arrive late to parties and leave early. If we even get there. We go where the words on the winds take us. We won’t leave you for another. Writers don’t make for very good pairings. We will abandon for our own unwritten pages. Leave you on read. While you search for clues in our prose. Our minds exist in unknown and unresolved riddles and we’ll spend lifetimes unraveling our own heads. Most likely it’s not personal. It’s the mishap of being born with the pen in palm. It’s in our DNA. The ink was tattooed in utero. And for some few that ink bleeds into their own palm. Brief encounters leaving you wondering if you were the muse or the stain. Perhaps you were both. @writerraines . . . . . #writingalchemy #poets #poetry #gmraines #writingcommunity #poetsandwriters #igpoets #amwriting #poetrybook #artistsandwriters #poetryinmotion #writersofig #slampoet #writerslife #prosepoetry #lgbtqia #bleedink #poetryisnotdead
There is something timidly intimate about a shared memory, that is barely alive but still connecting. Like this golden thread of chance, gossamer and faint a whisper of moments half gone, half lingering. It is tied to the last of your fingers and to the first of mine, binding together in a delicate dance of carefully torn and diced pieces of recollections and echoes of what once was. A flicker of laughter spiced with a hint of a smile. A scent that will transport you, for only a minute’s worth of delay but to this place we once knew, a time still clasped in the haze of blurry photograph, And yet somehow, you are still here. Right here. This memory that we share, a fragile little thing spanning a bridge across the chasm that these years have brought. Interspersed in dysphasic lines across our palms. A reminder that though life may eventually settle in an ebb and flow, This fleeting presence will always be a home - One that is hidden in the depths of our hearts, Where your memories will live and live on. A golden thread is larger than a sacred tie, A timidly intimate connection that defies the fading of moments and perpetual passing of time between us. It is a wordless language of sea men, with a personalised code for itself. Love. It is understood by few, cobblestoned path we've both trod. A tapestry woven with threads so fine, intertwining our lives in and out like cloth drawn to a sewing needle and thread. What has passed between two lover will always exist, like the fork that pierced us through. It is a lighthouse amidst the sea in tempest, but guiding us back to where we belong, not setting our hearts adrift. - Shrestha H. Sarkar, Love is a wordless language of sea men. by Shrestha H. Sarkar (@shrestha.h.sarkar)
I do not believe in #soulmates The notion of being swooned into a whirlwind of romance is a tale long told, Admonishing the beauty of efforts in oozing passion is a narrative untold. Life in its bounty flair binds the bonds of togetherness in its endearment true, But the love you seek does not forge outside, it forges its being within you. Flamboyance in its exquisite nurture glorifies the gigantic gestures of amor in glee, Not embracing the truth that the love that pours itself in the simplicity of two cups of coffee Love is more than destiny playing the cupid’s dart, Eternal affection is fostered in the abode of the countless strives of the ones who caress each other's hearts. I don't believe in soulmates because blazing passion in its realm falters in its stance, Affirming my faith in the ones who tirelessly toil in the refinement of their love makes the soul dance. Stealing glimpses of vows of unconditionality foster the warm hugs of togetherness as the love grows old In the embosom of amour that in the breaths of friendships forever lasts, lies the yarn of eternal love untold. Prompts Soulmates - #napowrimoss- @scratchedstories (Life , poem, poetry, lifelessons, contentcreator, explore, author, poet, writer, viral) Tags #nationalpoetrymonth #literature #NaPoWriMo2024 #napowrimo #nationalpoetrywritingmonth #literaturelover #poet #writerscommunity #writingcommunity #poem #poems #poemsarenotdead #poetrypassion #writer #poetryisnotdead #bleedink #writers #poemsofinsta #poemsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #poemslife #poemsociety #poetry #surprisinglyshortstories #silverleafpoetry #scratchedstories #thegoodquotes #societyofpoets
To the deepest I searched for all reasons ... It still echoed "you're mine" 💕 So I sat there watching the sky.. Speaking a language only the soul new... I wish; I mumbled and the wind came by asking to continue... I wish I knew you better... I wish ... I wish you loved me correctly... So I wished for better... A better day a better week, a better month... A better year... Above all... I wished for love...love In his eyes💕 Love that would be for us... Here in the present.✨ @a_life_in_my_cerebrum #writing #bleedink #hearherscreamletitgo #newBook #newmonthnewgoals
🌏 For April's FLP, I was prompted by @corinnecasellawriter ...◆... #acrostic "Walk through the fire of your own life." @firstlinepoets @emmajanepoetry #angelougroup #firstlinepoets #firstlinepoetsproject #gedichte #escribir #poesias #poemas #poeta #poetryisnotdead #mypoetry #poetry #poems #mypoems #triste #dolor #traurig #spilledink #darkpoetry #bleedink #voicesofpoets #voicesofwriters #globalvoicesunite #collaborativepoetry #keineliebe #inspiredpoetry #nolove #noamor #miamor #loveless 📷 from Pinterest
Thieves.. I want to daydream on thick grass that melts into my allergic skin while wistfully watching clouds morph into bears. Drinking in goblets of fresh air. Thinking of times that existed long before now. Dreaming of futures I’ve yet to hold, but they’re as real to me as this grass with its fresh rash to prove itself real. Poking into me. Leaving it’s insistent imprint on me. And I’m reminded yet again why time is our best gift to ourselves. Always where there are daydreams and clouds there is hope. Do you see why they insist we stay stuck in their debt as cogs in a forever spinning wheel? So tuned out, worn down and tired we collapse at the end of our days? And our lives? Calling us thieves for taking it back. @writerraines . . . . . #writingalchemy #poets #poetry #gmraines #writingcommunity #poetsandwriters #igpoets #amwriting #poetrybook #artistsandwriters #poetrycommunity #poetryinmotion #healingjourney #writersofig #slampoet #prosepoetry #lgbtqia #bleedink #poetryisnotdead
#writersuniverse #heartofpoets #bleedink #honestlyworded #deadpoetrysociety #poetrypageoffcial #bemypoetry #bookofpoets #lovetoreader #micropoetry #poetrylife #poetrydaily #writers #writersupportingwriters #buttonpoetry #quoteoflife #writergram #poetrycommunityofinstagram #poetryislife #poetrylove #poetrybook #poems #literature #reading #poetry #darkpoetry #sadpoetry #darkpoetrysociety #sadpoems #poetryisnotdead
Ich glaube ich hab mich verloren Und möchte mich wiederfinden Dazu brauchʼ ich dich Nicht; Ich nehme Abstand, Verdammt, Es muss so weit kommen. . Scheiße über Herzschmerz schreiben... . . #poetry #poesie #kunst #melancholie #gedichte #dichter #dichterin #poet #poetin #lyrik #author #poetryslam #poetriesgram #poetsofinstagram #thoughts #writer #writing #officialpoet #poetsglobe #poetsdaily #poetstext #bleedink #worldofpoets #spilledthoughts #art #love #deutschegedichte #vers #spruch #sprüche
Memories shared as siblings They say men are like tainted windows. They can see you. But they don't let you see them. But what are brothers? Mirror to their sister's hope? When you were an infant, I saw you sleeping in the cot with your mouth open. But I didn't saw a Milky Way there, Because you were more than that, You were the blue dot which Carl Sagan told us about. You were the sky to my mountain. You still are. And with days to come I hope to build a home in your cosmos. I hope you won't be another person thumping my soul, smearing the colors of tragedy, whispering the tunes hummed by the leaves of gooseberry, or force me to stare at the bruised moon when silence would be dripping like honey. But become that person in my life, with whom summer tastes like Alphanso, roads shine like pristine seawater, maa's scolding becomes extra spicy. You are the one who knows about my dark secrets and blackmails the next day for drinking milk. I don't yet know what to call you? A brother or a friend? Maybe I'll find it one day, just like I found a way to solve my math problems on my own. With melting slices of the evening, we soaked more laughter together our footprints merging, our hearts, embracing each other's beats. I can sense that now your presence will flicker in my life. I don't yet know what to call your presence. But I will miss how yet after every little catfights, you used to put the last slice of Dairy Milk on my study desk. Even if I am thousand miles away in a different city, We are still that troublesome duo which brought extra creases on our mother's forehead. Maybe one day, when we meet again, I will complete the game of chess with you and really tell you the name of my crush and hopefully will teach you more biology than "Mitochondria is the storehouse of energy". Till then hope your heart remains a cotton candy, where I can sink in sweetness and fly with wonder of your presence in my life. by Adrika Mondal (@sapphirika)
"Today's the day! 🎶 Dive into the beats of our new song dropping today 🚀🎵 #NewMusic #hiphopculture #pincode #136118 #newsong #poster #bleedink #kurukshetra #haryana #hiphopmusic #rap
You find love when you set it free... Anything altered loses its true essence....💕 Keep setting yourself up everyday.... The universe will bring it for you ✨ It's only when you leave everything in his hands.. You see the path... Right💙 @a_life_in_my_cerebrum #writing #bleedink #storyofahungrygirl #hearherscreamletitgo #newBook
Be My Sunrise In this flower place flora’s shine enlightens gold man’s treasure turns to tar all paltry feelings fold Nothing besides the air as muse no bodies ask to make them innocence will not be abused all life will be, not taken In the meadows, I see sunlight calling the swallows and the skylarks lupine and black-eyed Susans purpled yellow stalks of fine art Sunlight has grown this flower place bright enough to give nurture to the nature that allows the sun to live And when nature speaks to me my words reach to hold your ear I need to tell you of this flower place I need to bring you here When you get here, know I rest I am dreaming trees and flowers the way arctic thinks of warmth my heart kissed by sunlight's showers After sunlight, you’ll have gentle dreams gentle dreams, you can enjoy let me be the dream behind your eyes your gentle, dreamer boy And on top of dreaming hills I see whispers that will grow into poems, glowing verses your ear’s to hear, your heart's to know Bring me close, so you can hear until then I will be in the fields of nature's wisdom learned grass, teaching me How to live, how to love how to be, how to forget how to bloom through growth both growth and bloom beget Growing pains and tired oak a body sailing through the fog water-logged, masked as smoke butterflies, and eyes of grog In deserts, I see mountains wet valleys, somber stone drops of grief becoming fountains loss, your heart has known Do you grieve the sunset? the way tea would grieve its flower? dripping warmth from every petal the way pianos pedal power My love, I am your sunrise I am your sunset, too May I be the hope inside your heart the pain of darkness, too? Although evenings lose their light mournings will come round long after light is lost I will be your sight and sound Chasing hope, your heart learns song a hopeful heart will carry tune now your heart can sing and a heart that sings, will bloom And upon your cherished blossom may I be the light that grows you? my love, I am your sunshine I am the light that knows you [ continues in the comments ]
The four obstacles✨ @a_life_in_my_cerebrum #writing #bleedink #storyofahungrygirl #hearherscreamletitgo #newBook
Dear April The abundance and scarcity of existence is a rite of passage of time, its magnanimous flair leaves us astounded and keeps us in wonder of how it transforms its course over the dualities of the world we live in. Though fleeting, time imprints certain memories that can never be forgotten, that dwell both in amazement and animosity, in smiles and sadness, in rage and lavishness, in tears and fears. 2024 has been a roller coaster ride for all of us, plonking us from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows, in this steady stride of this year, we bid adieu to the month of the onset of Spring- April. April, the beauty of your presence was enthralling yet excruciating. I spent my days in the contradictions of merriment and melancholy, in the warmth of sunlight and smiles and the somberness of midnight and tears. You witnessed me through it all, the moments where I cried in pain and the times when I was living every day in the beauty of gratitude. I will never be able to forget every moment I spent in your embrace, but here are the most beautiful learnings that I grasped in your embosom. Trusting the divine timing, nothing that is ever meant for you will lose its way to you The pain, the agony and the joy and merriment are all parts of humanness, acceptance of wherever you are and how you are is the key to living. No one is coming from the stars to save you from your darkness, be the light. It is in the mundane dwells of your mortality that you find the greatest of pleasures, there is immeasurable joy in small things- like having your coffee while watching your sunset, hugging your best friend or falling in love with the smell of the mud while watering the plants. -Be grateful for the ones who love you, not everybody is that fortunate to have people in their life that they can call their own. -You are not worthy in the terms of only and if, you are worthy because you are, just because a beautiful soul like you exists, not in the conditionalities of your achievement or success. Continued in comments:) (Life , poem, poetry, lifelessons, contentcreator, explore, author, poet, writer, viral)
You and I will write a different story
Feeling grateful today to all those who carry me through ❤️❤️❤️ Whose love and memory carries you? #love #lovestory #lovepoem #poetsociety #poetsofinstagram #grateful #poetryandeveryemotion #poetrymatters #uplifting #poem #writersofinstagram #poeticreveries_ #bleedink #bleedingsoulpoetry
I am jealous of the word suicide. My father pronounces it better than my name. The consequence of having a daughter who once saw the world in you, is being forced to be a father who wasn't ever a part of that world. Kindness is a calamity spreading like a sneeze he holds back, but his eyes: they don't lie. They write you letters in silence that are difficult to digest at breakfast. My father and I are different kinds of lovers. He calls his anger, love and I call my grief, love. When you have grown around a father who eats his feelings to not be vulnerable, you become the lover who chokes on every inch of care you're given. His love begins with compromise that burns my mother's hands to call it warmth. My love begins with admiration for the hands that don't burn me even when I tell them to. If fathers had a childhood, mine would still be living in it: bubble wrapped with fear of losing the maturity he never had. I have inherited the word 'sorry' from my father: we both apologise for crimes that aren't ours. My father never taught me to be sad. He taught me to always be happy. Sometimes, joy translates to sorrow because my father never showed me the difference between smiling and hiding your tears. He wasn't strong, he was afraid to be weak. My father, like all fathers, never grew up dreaming to be one. He could've taken the exit when he saw my breath turn into air that blurred his future. But he stayed and I birth poems that hurt his feelings. I'm not guilty for being the daughter that her father never wanted to save: he wanted me to thrive, not survive, exist, not float, he wanted me to be the ocean, not the lifeboat. But father, where are you? I don't see you in the men I love. (You are not supposed to. ) I look for men who aren't like you. (You are not supposed to.) I know men and I know you. It's a blessing all of manhood doesn't end up like our fathers but for most of us, our fathers are the first example of manhood and it isn't a father's fault, it never is, that the world wants them to be fathers who care without being fathers who were given the choice not to. [ continues in the comments ]
Believe yourself...😄 And stay Humble✌️ #INK4INSIGHT #ink #insight #ink4insight #bleedink #beinghumble #nosorrow #noregrets #life
An evening of 🔥 printmaking. New ink prints will be available for purchase on June 1st @pvartfest using vibrant inks and hand-cut collage techniques! ✨️ Come check out my artist booth and visit my website in my bio. These gems are 11"x14" #artistsoninstagram #vibrantcolors #inkprints #printmaking #paperarts #mixedmedia #collageart #mixedmediaart #yupo #youfancy #fireglow #warmandcool #abstractart #abstractexperssionism #artislife #artistsharing #artshareandsupport #artfollowers #ink #bleedink #artmoves #handmadeart #collageartwork #prints #freshprints #newart #artshow
💜💔♥️❤🩹🖤❤🔥 Hey, How are you doing? I'm good Are you sure? Yes.. why did you ask ? Well Seeing you turn into a person you are not, makes me wonder how much you would deny to yourself of you being you, I miss the version I have seen before of you, i don't know if that's real or what you are now is. You ain't enjoying any of this that for sure i know. If ever you need to confide in someone and tell your stories which are what not but maybe embarrassing or anything, I'll be glad to hear them all and maybe will then know that you are doing truly fine, till then keep making stories and lying to all but what's more painful is to see you lie to yourself. I wish you healing and may you discover yourself soon, and maybe when you meet yourself someday , do try to look at yourself the way I see you, I'm sure you will fall in love with yourself just the way I did so easily. But until then take care, and keep impressing the wrong ones and keep racing in the wrong race, a rat race. The day when you will realise that this ain't your race, and you have a better chance of winning an arena where you are the best, you will win. Till then best of luck, I'm rooting for you. But maybe my distance - from you is better for you , for me , for us. © ThePurplegirl. Inspired by @imtiazaliofficial #tamashamovie #vedtara and a few incidents here and there. PC: @pinterest Follow @__thepurplehearts__ for more relatable and unique writings! Tag using #thepurpleheartsgirl #everysundaypost #bleedink #selfishqadollopofselflove 🌻
I apparently come from a community That knows how to hex. I laughed because if I had known hexing, I would have bewitched him to be mine, forever. He is the 10th boy, I am trying not to lose. I hope that he remembers My birthday and the cheap book I wanted to read Since I was a child but nobody has Bought it for me, yet. While secretly despising my birth. I sleep on my left side, So that my back faces my roommate; She shouldn't see me crying myself to sleep. For I am the clown It's my responsibility to make Her laugh, with my dark jokes So that she forgets That her mother is dying of cancer; And my inability to find love Seems like an excruciatingly trivial Reason to cry for. I a buy a new diary, After filling just five pages Of the previous one; To write about the same pain Over and over again. Now I have fifty five diaries With empty pages, And the pain still beats in my chest like a hysterical unreliable organ. I bought a new one again, It's blue(just like my heart). It costed rupees seventy, A fair deal I guess. However i would have traded All of my poetry, art and empathy For an unbroken heart. I am scared for my next date With him because, I can't tell him that though my degree teaches me that benzodiazepines are used To relieve insomnia I can't make him swallow that perfidious lump in his throat, he has been carrying For years. He is walking in front of me and I am following him like loneliness follows the poet. I am studying the curls on the back of his neck And he is moving away from me. He is not the man who smashes plates against the wall but the tinkling of spoon and fork against the plates, is the only sound you would hear during dinner. I love his hands And I cling onto his long and slender fingers, so desperately. What if he slips out of my miserable hands? Tell me how to love a man, Who craves for affection but looks for the nearest exit door when someone tries to love him? by Srijani Kaur (@whysrijaniwhy)
And in my interpretation: you must go to the Pyramids in Egypt. I have never of them, but if it was a child who showed them to you, they exist. "There you will find treasure that will make you a rich man" @a_life_in_my_cerebrum #writing #bleedink #storyofahungrygirl #hearherscreamletitgo 💕
The simmering terrors of its essence set its fangs deep, Trembling with the exasperation of toil, I tirelessly strive in the endeavours of the promises to keep Enthralled with the beauty of existence, the soul once danced in the madness of rain, Alas the proofs and theories of adulthood, lay its being as the mortal bane. Is adulthood a beautiful quest or a painful experience, one ought to think, Life brutal in its serves, pours the whims of pragmatism overwhelming the existential brink. I trod with caution over the fragile line of the callous independence and togetherness confined, Forgiveness in its mighty realm blurs the trail of animosity and peace that lies predefined. The bounty benevolence of time belies to be its fleeting passage in the thin air of strife, Moments of unbearable pain and desolation transform into the gratitude of being alive. While the heart still yearns for the nostalgic times of childhood’s unsolicited glee, Living in the moment where our feet stand forges us to be free. The simmering trails of its presence still run deep, In the traces of the duties that are bound and the vows, one must keep. Yet its magnanimity pleases the soul in the radiance of its duality that one sees, The beauty of morality breathes its quintessence in the contradiction of poetry. -Hridya ( Life , poem, poetry, lifelessons, contentcreator, explore, author, poet, writer, viral) Prompts 1) Poetry - @thealiporepost- #thealiporepostpoetrymonth 2)Proofs and Theories - @poemsindia #poemsindianapowrimo2024 3)Forgiveness- @scratchedstories- #napowrimoss Tags #nationalpoetrymonth #literature #literary #NaPoWriMo2024 #napowrimo #nationalpoetrywritingmonth #literaturelover #poet #writerscommunity #writingcommunity #poem #poems #poemsarenotdead #poetrypassion #writer #poetryisnotdead #bleedink #writers #poemsofinsta #poemsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #poemslife #poemsociety #poetry #surprisinglyshortstories #silverleafpoetry #scratchedstories
✍🏻 "Whispers in the Twilight" ❤️🩹 ❤️🩹 ❤️🩹 ❤️🩹 ❤️🩹 ❤️🩹 ❤️🩹 ❤️🩹 ❤️🩹 ❤️🩹 ❤️🩹 #deepthoughts #deepfeelings #poetofig #sadtexts #lifequotes4u #tumblredit #bleedink #lonelyquotes #notfine #poets_community #sadthoughts #sadfeelings #sadquotepageshepoetry #hurts #hurtquotes #heartmindwars #tumblredits #brokenquotes #deepquotes #thinker #omypoetry #lovelost #brokenheartquotes #poetryforthesoul #bymepoetrylove #sadquotepageshe #breakheart #sadheartfeelings #mypoetry #igpoem
"Each man kills the things he loves" And its true. The mere possibility of getting what we want fills the soul of the ordinary person with guilt. 💕 @a_life_in_my_cerebrum #writting #bleedink #storyofahungrygirl #hearherscreamletitgo
Everytime you crossed my mind... I clicked a picture 💕 @a_life_in_my_cerebrum #writing #bleedink #storyofahungrygirl #hearherscreamletitgo
Study Notes Disguised as a Heartbreak Poem i In the 8th standard, we were asked to mark certain cities in the Geography period. One of my classmates marked the South Indian cities in place of North Indian ones. Central India was not found anywhere. /I wish I could do that. I'd mark your city near mine and we'd sit together with sunsets and Elif Shafak. ii Demographic data shows that after every few miles, languages, clothing styles, food habits and lifestyles vary. Such variation is an asset as well as a liability. /You were a sacrosanct grafitti on a museum's wall waiting to be copied, framed and wrapped in gift papers like a fragile pearl and I was a charcoal-smeared sketch on a thin sheet of paper waiting to be discarded by her disappointed teacher and end up in a garbage can. iii During El Nino, winds lose control. Warm water travels back. The eastern tropical Pacific Ocean's temperature rises. Call it a synonym of unfamiliarity. /El Nino is Spanish for "little boy". I wonder if the Spanish won't come across adults who show unfamiliarity. iv When one creature survives on another creature (known as the host), it is called the parasitic mode of nutrition. A louse survives on the scalp. A mosquito survives on blood. Love survives on the human heart. But when the host loses energy, the survivor finds another host. You did the same with me. /The Japanese art of fixing broken things with the help of powdered gold is called Kintsugi. Is there a way to fix me as well? by Khatija Khan (@sparksofher)
Painting from Jopie Art Studio Have a great Friday. Thanks for supporting. #poetscity #poetscafe #writinginspiration #foundationspoetry #poetrycove #poemsociety #outsiderpoets #micropoem #poets_community #poetstribe #essenceoflove #poemxheaven #smallpoems #littlepoem #randompoetry #loveunfolds #originalpoetry #poetsunite #writers_den_ #shortpoems #shortpoetry #bleedink #amaturepoetry #romanticpoetry #poetrygram #poetryinmotion #poetry #poems #poetrygram #poetryisart
The answer lies somewhere in between...🐼👍😌 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . #bleedink #writerscommunity #writersworld #instawrites #instawriter #trending #trendingwriter #writersofinstagram #bleachedwords #pragyapens #answers #question #life
पत्थर हो जाता हूं.... #hindi #hindiquotes #love #longwriting #write #bleedink #ink
„Heimweh, wonach?“ von Mascha Kaléko . . . #poetry #poesie #kunst #melancholie #gedichte #dichter #dichterin #poet #poetin #lyrik #author #poetryslam #poetriesgram #poetsofinstagram #thoughts #writer #writing #officialpoet #poetsglobe #poetsdaily #poetstext #bleedink #worldofpoets #spilledthoughts #art #love #deutschegedichte #vers #spruch #maschakaléko
Our life unfolds in a succession of revelations of who we are. It is when we sit down and repeat the same sentence in our head over and over again, in every action we perform, every activity we indulge ourselves in, does it indulges into our existence as a habit. The key to having a sense of liberation is allowing life to flow through, not forcing anything and more essentially not resisting change. I believe that our life improves in the direct proportionality of how often we are exposed to situations where are forced to challenge our age-old beliefs and counterfeited perceptions and seek the greater version of ourselves. When we get too comfortable in the comfort zones we build for ourselves, we do not grow into the people we are meant to be. Sadly most people embrace change only when metamorphosis is the less painful and only possible option. Prompts 1)Reflect on situationship or relationship that is clearly not defined @scratchedstories #napowrimoss 2)Sun struck- #thealiporepostpoetrymonth @thealiporepost 3)Happiness is accidental- it only happens to you when you look the other way - @therandomlifafa #therandomlifafa @shikhaholic #napowrimoxshikhaholic 4)Write a poem as a dialogue between two emotions- @theremnantarchive #traxnapowrimo2024 (Poet, hope, life, author, self-esteem, confidence, poetry, writer) Tags #nationalpoetrymonth #literature #literary #NaPoWriMo2024 #napowrimo #nationalpoetrywritingmonth #literaturelover #poet #writerscommunity #writingcommunity #silverleafpoetry #poems #poemsarenotdead #poetrypassion #writer #poetryisnotdead #bleedink #writers #poemsofinsta #poemsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #poemslife #poemsociety #poetry #surprisinglyshortstories
#senryu undear Instagram, your updates suck rotten toes; bring back recent posts ~ MG During a writing therapy meeting, my chronic pain group was asked to write about something that had made our lives more difficult in a very personal level. When I said that I was a bit broken up over Instagram doing away with the recent posts filter, someone gave me a mildly disdainful look and said some less than flattering things about “[my] first world problem”. I wasn’t in the best of moods—I had spent half the night puking, a migraine was threatening to pop my left eyeball, and my torn back muscle had rejoined the agony party—so, I might’ve slightly told them f*ck off. With feeling. I know, I know… overreaction galore. But I was having a crappy day that was quickly turning into a crappy week. And my brain-to-mouth filter doesn’t work particularly well under those conditions. Hence my recent MIA(ness). Anyway, do you have a first world problem you wish to share with me? I hope you don’t. But if you do, do tell—I would hate to be all alone in my overprivileged and hubristic ways. #badhaiku #badpoetry #recentposts #writingtherapy #chronicpain #chronicpainwarrior #haiku #poetry #micropoetry #poetryisnotdead #poetrycommunity #instapoetry #poems #poetsofig #poetsofinstagram #instawrite #writersofig #bleedink #writersofinstagram #writingcommunity #womenwhowrite #wordsmith #poembitsbymagaly #fictionwriter #poet #writer #storyteller #magalyguerrero #guerrerowords
I share an abundance of notes on grief with my mother- most of them which trace an indelible pattern on my blemishes; I think perhaps - suicide notes were written more in abundance rather than love letters since most years are lost between the tongue repeating and the heart repenting. Perhaps, mothers and daughters are only synonymous ancedotes of each other's grappling sense of futile screams and suicide notes are rather an aftermath of love growing teeth- that leaves behind a scorching mark, frozen stories hidden in the refrigerator- maybe it is an attempt by angry feral and incoherent woman whose patience has grown to be a religious atheist. Mothers and daughters are maybe an anthology of recurring dreams lurking like leeches alongside a temptation to explore a void or to fill a void- perhaps an endless battle between nostalgia and memories. Perhaps daughters are a mothers remembrance of their withering existence - a strange sense of tragic despair born from the craving for half filled vessels of desires and for a room of laughter to probably perfom an experiment on- hiding the woes of loneliness. Perhaps mothers and daughters are all but alternating perceptions of each other - both of us are parasites, feeding on our own stale hearts, chewing them until all the juice is sucked in; And - maybe mothers and daughters are all but nonconforming ruptured identities, where mothers didn't fight for their daughters and now both of them serve as testaments to an obituary housing wounds. — akshita , perhaps mothers and daughters are truly leftovers of each other. by Akshita (@_shaerha_)
"Thoughts and feelings — contradicting" . . . #poetry #poesie #kunst #melancholie #gedichte #dichter #dichterin #poet #poetin #lyrik #author #poetryslam #poetriesgram #poetsofinstagram #thoughts #writer #writing #officialpoet #poetsglobe #poetsdaily #poetstext #bleedink #worldofpoets #spilledthoughts #art #love #deutschegedichte #vers #loveverse #lovepoetry
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . #fervorink #milayaink #bleedink #spilledink #urdu #urdupoetry #ghazal #nazm #shayar #shayari #bazmeurdu #bazmesukhan #mehfileshayari #mehfilepoetry #rekhtafoundation #rekhta
„Beobachtungen im April“... . . muss sich ja nicht immer alles reimen haha . . #poetry #poesie #kunst #melancholie #gedichte #dichter #dichterin #poet #poetin #lyrik #author #poetryslam #poetriesgram #poetsofinstagram #thoughts #writer #writing #officialpoet #poetsglobe #poetsdaily #poetstext #bleedink #worldofpoets #spilledthoughts #art #love #deutschegedichte #vers #spruch #sprüche
. I’m usually a very positive person; I carry on and shrug off the trials and down-things cause you know, that's life. Its meant to be hard and difficult. Life is by default hardship. But the last now almost 7 months have eaten away at this strength. It has hollowed me; gauged out heart and soul and peace of mind. Every day I tell my self it can't get any worse than this, and then another atrocity is revealed and another chink of soul turns into grief. How much longer? Survivors guilt is a beast. A formless, invisible creature that digs so deep that the claws remain forever and no matter where you look or when, no matter the years that will fill between now and then, the claws will remain and I will never look at anything the same. In one way Plstn has grieved me beyond anything. In another way, it has brought me back to life. It has cleared and sharpened mind and thoughts. It has made choices clear. So despite the hollowness I carry from grief and helplessness, despite the fury at those who don't care, there is also the gift of knowing that my history will be that I was on the right side. Of Plstn. For Sudan. Congo. Rohingya. Kashmir. Never forgive. Never forget. Never sleep when the world is burning. . #thecultivatedfool #herheartpoetry #poeticreveries_ #heartofpoetsbloom #bleedink #poetessofig #muslimahpoetry #shayarilove #poetrycommunity #poetrylovers #abiertoreino #bymepoetryamerica #muslimauthor #spilledthought #spilledinkpoetry #muslimwriter #muslimpoet #poetryisnotdead #digte #womenpoets #poetstext #poets #bymepoetry #mentalhealth #mircropoem #societyofpoetry #silenceisbetrayal #speakupforthevoiceless #freepalesti̇ne
My life is a mess and I have nothing to be grateful about! I witness myself say this phrase from time to time, where life plonks us into the desperation of ebb and flow of wilderness and things not going in our favour. It is easy to say we are grateful and in complete balance when things are going well and life feels like the warm embrace of the sun shining on a Sunday morning. But the real test lies in remaining grateful and centred when life feels like spinning out of control. While it is easier said than done, here are some reminders that might help you get through the days that feel like a burden 1) This too shall pass, no moment in time that feels permanent loses its impermanence. We often lose hope when things don't go our way and during these sad days, we should remember, that this too shall pass. 2)Trust the process- Things always have a way of working out and sometimes almost magically and even better than our imagination 3)Your best self already has the things that you are dreaming about- I heard a phrase that the things that you seek are already seeking you. It is a beautiful reminder that if we work hard enough and single-mindedly focus on what we want to achieve, everything we want aligns with us 4)Gratitude is a muscle that strengthens with exercise over time- The reminder of being fortunate enough to wake up every day and being able to live a comfortable life is the key to having everything you desire. While it is important to feel all the negative emotions thoroughly and not embrace toxic positivity, the presence of gratitude makes the day a little easier. 5)Comparison is the thief of joy, detach and focus on yourself- You are not in competition with anybody but yourself, you do not need to prove yourself to anyone but yourself, the more you are in tune with what you want out of life, the less you focus on what others are doing. Continued in comments.
What a beautiful world it would be if people had hearts like dogs... ๓г. कलाकार 69 #instagood #instagram #instapoet #dogsofinstagram #animallovers #doglover #profoundthoughts #blessed #bleedink #quote #gulbargadiaries #goodvibes #happiness #mood #theuntoldstories✌🏼
im welchem land wollt ihr mal ferien machen? ----------------------------------------------- #deepthoughts #lifequotes4u #brokenquotes #brokenheartquotes #notfine #omypoetry #bleedink #sadquotespage #hurtquotes #poetofig #poetryforthesoul #tumblredit #poets_community #deepfeelings #hurts #sadfeelings #lonelyquotes #sadthoughts #sadtexts #sadquotepageshepoetry #sadheartfeelings #deephurtpain
if you said so I’d take you dancing under the night sky where we’d imagine our own rhythm and disco lights .
Wassup G's, Here we come with the Official Artwork of our next single 'Too Nice' Releasing on 30th of This Month! Featuring @umxofficial @bleedink.music @iwajidmusic_ Produced and Engineered by Yours truly @kafil_qurashie76 Art by @umx.ink It's gonna be new! It's gonna be a Banger! Stay Tuned 🗓️ #viral #fyp #explore #explorepage #dhh #desihiphop #rap #rapmusic #newmusic #newrelease #umx #toonice #bleedink #wajid #kafilqurashie #newsound #banger #experimental #trap
Hi. ----- [Original text:] With acquaintances, we can’t help but act extreme, talking drama, fights, our petty brush with fame — all the glossy gossip of the day . . . Friends are those we can greet and simply say, “Hi.”
Yes I crave for you When i see a couple walking by, The ones who have their hand in hand Talking about life, TO LIVE A LIFE TOGETHER Yes I crave for you When I see a couple quarreling over some trivial issues, Then cutely patching up by keeping a hand on their shoulders to protect them while walking on a roadside Yes I crave for you When I see simplicity in love, As simple as Wearing a match colour of their clothing, ordering their favourite dessert before they mention about it or cooking their comfort food when they are on their low days Yes I crave for you When I see acceptance in relations, Accepting with all the flaws making them feel comfortable enough to be in their skin Yes I crave for you When I see partners supporting as being the cheerleader for each other Yes I crave for you When they know how to handle each other in the state of panic, By comforting each other in their heart wrenching fears by just being there and reminding them that "It's gonna be fine they ain't alone" Yes I crave for you When I see efforts As simple as keeping a check on them even when busy with a hectic schedule , Just to know that they are doing okay Yes I crave for you When I see mutual respect among couples for understanding, And not forcing their partner's boundaries and gives personal space Yes I crave for you When I see trust among partners who trust each other with all their lives Knowing that they would always have their backs, even when their thoughts don't align Yes I crave for you When they communicate to each other Even when feelings are tough to handle and face, but they still choose to clearly communicate to them to avoid overthinking Yes I crave for you When they put their life partner before themselves, Doing things that they like once and avoiding what they themselves like Yes I crave for you Sometimes when all of this happens around me and there's no sign of you in my sight, while all I wish is you to be here, doing all the things with you, for you and fulfilling all my fairytale dreams But little do I remember that they all are fairy tales for a reason and all that is possible only in fairytales because they are not real. © ThePurplegirl.
'Bluebeard' #instapoem #inststapoetry #poet #poetess #writer #originalpoem #originalpoetry #poetryisnotdead #poetryinmotion #poetryislife #poetrycommunity #poetrycorner #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #bleedink #bleedingsoulpoetry #poemsbyme #bymepoetry #bymepoetryfeaturedpoet
Farewell poem “Stop All the Walks” for our beloved #freddypops based on WH Auden’s Funeral Blues/Stop All the Clocks (second slide) 💔 • @legotoaster and I brought Fred home on Friday and buried him in the back garden under a new apricot tree. Fred loved scavenging apples and plums from our trees so he should be happy under the apricots 🌳🖤 • Thank you for all your comments and messages; your kindness and empathy have been incredible @sekaonoj @poems_by_patrickjohnward @callmesamareh @beanology1 @catcarnaby @thehollowgram @roberthludwig @mikeflynnbass @oceanrain62 @jojoandco40 @shanearlak @jorunnrasm @truculentbutamiable @fgfcuisine @tell__tale @swiggo @mariajoaorosa @rebmac_improv @hubydoo__ @haleymarie_85 @medmooi @_lucy__slater @emilystoten7 @ryan_wont_die_wondering @a4kkk 🙏💜🌈 ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• #amusenut #whauden #funeralblues #stopalltheclocks #funeralpoem #petloss #petlosssupport #poetry #igpoet #igpoem #mypoetry #igpoetrysociety #poetrycommunity #igpoetrycommunity #poetsofinsta #instapoetry #spilledink #spilledinkpoetry #womenwhowrite #amwritingpoetry #writingcommunity #poem #creativewriting #freeversepoetry #igpoetssociety #bleedink #poetslife #poetrylovers #auden
GRIEF My mother has been hurt, bruised She had bled all the love of her body right in front of my eyes People say that I look like her, and nothing makes me more happy than my resemblance to her but when they say I'm so much like her my insides churn and jump like magic pops, nothing makes me sadder not even my father. My mother has been dead for a long long time now You can see that in the way she stares at you, blank, dead My father however is alive, very much alive Just look at his eyes,and you'll see the whole monstrous world inside And I, I I would like to think that I'm in the middle of life and death, in the middle of the ocean and sand, In the middle of tears and smiles In the middle of sins and sighs Sighs- The knot at the bottom of my neck makes it hard to breathe because love is , was and will always be the syllabus I didn't read and the compulsory question I always leave but I never fail because grief is what is filled never in compulsory but always carries heavy We three have been together all my life, We sit at the same table with grief at the center smiling at us with mocking eyes We eat food with our teeth because our tongue is always too busy eradicating peace Peace that pricks our silences Silence that engulfs all our voices Voices that never makes it up to the throat and throat Throat that is clogged with a lump made of fears tears We cut ourselves into pieces of agony and sue each other with barbed wires wrapped in melancholy Growing nails only to murder colouring them only to make ourselves feel better, Better. by Saanvi Kashyap (@saannvvii.k)
Is making lists a science or an art? There is a whole solar system going on, out of a list. But a planet inside it is enough to breathe in. Raisins (Rotten dreams) Coriander leaves (Kitchen streaks) Anodised Detergents (to deter children) Egg puffs (for bitter mouths/lives) Tissues and Wipes ( Obsessed/ Compulsed/ Disordered) Spices, Medicines, Liquid Soap Remaining items from last week's list. Women in my family never get exhausted while making lists of groceries of beauty staples and outfits. Lists that forget to come to an end. Lists that are hardly followed by men. The process works like Maslow's Need Hierarchy Theory You keep reaching a higher level but in a negative manner. Because when one list gets fulfilled here, it multiplies into a dozen new ones and no one reaches self actualisation. My mother is the kitchen's wife. She writes 1 kg oranges which metamorphose into my brother's sneeze. 1 kg onions which result in floods in our eyes amid April's dry waves of heat. Spices we run out of, almost every day. Lemons too sour to sweeten our relationships with each other. Wish she wrote love at least once. My Chachi writes Rose blush and Cranberry lipstick to conceal her lavender origin. Strawberry perfume and chocolate muffins considering her brand new marriage. Her husband is an amateur to the ritual of unending lists. So he pulls the evanescing paper sheets out of his pocket and checks every item line by line before returning home. My grandmother's lists are extremely Ayurvedic. But who will tell her that Ayurveda does not cure grief. That grandfather's loss cannot be brushed out of her head with the help of anti-dandruff oils. Kapoor can only be so cool to calm her down. But no Jadi-Buti can moisten her numb being. I wonder if making a list is a science, an art or a profession. Because a list has an unusual body of knowledge, everyone has their way of practicing this tradition with a solemn backing of remembrance and memory. There is a whole solar system going on, out of a list. But a planet inside it is enough to breathe in. by Khatija Khan (@sparksofher)
The patience of the ordinary things: There is no historical evidence Of how people started cooking for each other, I think of the first person Who felt the want to cook something That feeds not just them but also others. Scientists might associate it with motherhood But the poet will dig the nascent feelings out, Like the first piece of bread that came out of an oven During the time of french revolution, That fed an entire nation left to die by the rich aristocrats. The Pateince of ordinary Comes from their extraordinary history, When a small kid was bullied for talking differently He tasted blood in his mouth before he saw another punch coming How we detect taste faster than we blink, That bromidrophobia is the fear of body odours And maybe the scientist who found it Had a colleague who was afraid of body odours. When Van Gogh told people He could hear colours No one knew it was chromesthesia, And a passionate kiss can cause the same chemical reaction As skydiving, I imagine a world out there That keeps becoming bold and extraordinary A history that grows at speed of my fingernail. How my mother's recipe that fed a house of four Was passed by her own mother, And even if people are forty or four That taste remains the same. If someday this world breaks all your spirits Know that human skeleton renews every 10 years, That your heart can beat louder than a passing ambulance siren If the ambulance is headed for your own home. How otters hold hands to not float away Or there is still someone gathering day's food In war stuck Ukraine or Palestine, Or your mother chopping tomatoes As the television in the front room Plays a story about a man Who has walked barefoot since his wife died as a meditation, The way ordinary things have a story A tale that can be told as a lie or the ultimate truth, How a piece of cake won't mean anything to you Would change the world Of someone who never had a taste of it. [ continues in the comments ]
💜💔❤️🖤 I have such deep rooted anxiety that I wish my partner to be like anxiety.. Initially difficult to deal with, be with but eventually you are okay with it, okay as in not okay but Okay, The way anxiety makes me feel that I'm his and no one else's, the way it makes me believe that no one is going to stay by my side except him, the way it tells me everyone dislikes me but he doesn't, the way he is present there irrespective of good times or bad times. In good times, it never lets me be happy carefree, No it always keeps me grounded and makes me stay low-key thinking something bad might happen soon because it's good that's already happening, Well in bad times it just either pushes me to make my own scenarios in my head or simply guides me to come up with my own answers where they left, When the clock strikes 3 in the morning and I'm in midway of my sleep, it comes up to me and asks me, "DON'T YOU THINK YOU DID WRONG LAST NIGHT BY EXPRESSING YOURSELF IN FRONT OF THEM?" And then there I sit thinking if they would understand me or just judge me for being me. Then it comes and hugs me assuring that it's okay if no one understands you but I'm gonna always try to understand you even if I can't, It even narrates me old-new stories which might not even be relevant at that point while washing the clothes or doing household chores. It might sound like an abusive relationship when he just pushes me against the wall banging it back and forth telling me I'm of no worth. But Then he's only the one who will take care of my wounds and scars. I know there are times when he's just tired of being by my side or listening to my cries- day & night, At times it cripples me to a point of suffocation so tight where I just wanna lie and stare at the sky, thinking I would die tonight, wondering will it mind any of the minds whom I thought would at least cry, but I find only him sitting by my side so I want him to be like my anxiety, because it never leaves me! ©ThePurplegirl. If you are suffering from anxiety or any mental health issue, kindly reach out to professionals and seek help! ✨🌻🤞🏼