🫶🏻 Illustration in the bg from pinterest Tags - #rheakhemani #dumbowritesx #prosepoetry #girlswhowrite #untwineme #evepoetrygroup #quotesbyheart #poemxheaven #quotestoloveby #apoeticview #poetry #writerspocket #runawaywriters #theliteralscript #thecultivatedfool #pentupthoughts #poetsandwriters #spilledinkpoetry #herheartpoetry #poetsempire #poetryrise #poetspecial #rainofpoetry #pentupthoughts #bymepoetrylove #uncertaincreative #poetsglobe #poetrybyheart #poetstribe ♡
the deep dark thoughts that linger in pace in the space. the dull cloudy crawls towards the hallway of no-hope the exhaustible curve that binds your lips through and forth. all the feeling, the functioning, the chaos and the surreal death ideas of another parallel life, all stay intertwined in our minds. even the nature has its bad days, the clouds are dark as your thoughts and as death as you're alive. the lighting scares most of the dolls that nature has been controlling since 'ever. the lighting is your death-aligned, the thoughts you think before a deep doze. even the nature overcomes it with rainbows and green growths. you, my dear, are a piece of whole, that nature itself has made to slow-growth. all the desires are coloured and painted with hopes, only once you let the little rainbow glimpse through your dark dull window of thoughts. — Rhea Khemani @dumbowritesx Wrote a little piece of my mind, if you have made it here, I love you 🫶🏻 The illustration in the post is from @manka_kasha Tags - #rheakhemani #dumbowritesx #prosepoetry #girlswhowrite #untwineme #evepoetrygroup #quotesbyheart #poemxheaven #quotestoloveby #apoeticview #poetry #writerspocket #runawaywriters #theliteralscript #thecultivatedfool #pentupthoughts #poetsandwriters #spilledinkpoetry #herheartpoetry #poetsempire #poetryrise #poetspecial #rainofpoetry #pentupthoughts #bymepoetrylove #uncertaincreative #poetsglobe #poetrybyheart #poetstribe ♡
. Amidst the horrors being revealed around Al-Shifa and Al-Nasser hospital, the global media has once again decided to remain as silent as possible. Shameful. But rest assured: even the bones and the rubble and the soil will bear witness. . #istandwithpalestine #freepalesti̇ne #freepalastine #femalepoets #poetesse #poetsofig #muslimwriters #muslimauthors #silenceisbetrayal #speakupforthevoiceless #digter #poets #thecultivatedfool #darkpoetry #silenceisnotanoption #palestinewillbefree #humanitylost #poetrylovers #writersofcolor #poeticreveries_ #micropoet #muslimwriter #muslimauthor #poetrymaykhana #poemofig #wordssmith #writercommunity #bipocwriters #thecultivatedfool #flawedandfabulous
Caption The mirror is a little fibber, it looked into my eyes and filled them up with fallacies, like an entity from the other side, it spun fantasies in the darkness of my mind. Now whenever I pass a shard of glass, my reflection haunts me. Like a child craving candy, I now crave misery. An obsession to be poisoned over and over like horror stuck on repeat. Thoughts prickle my skin, digging graves inside my heart. For what more can make one alive than sprouting grief like wildflowers inside the calamity of their soul? Time rewinds to a coma between the breaths of my body, incinerating everything that becomes light into an eclipse. Words have been muted on my lips, and now, like winter, I too wish to hibernate like hubris. . . I like things that sully me, pretentious promises like a child playing house narrating the tale of happy endings. For a shallow phrase has capsized my sanity and into the abyss, I go searching, seeking a life that is mine to live. And like a funeral, I have buried myself, speaking sermons into the soil, planting chrysanthemums under my headstone, and chanting affirmations into my body. I do not wish to walk alongside those who have trampled upon the bones of others, those who preach goodness but taint their tongues like saints who have been banished. I am not a temple; I am simply a pebble, one that many choose to kick or skip across the lake. This melancholic malachite has crystalized my voice into an abstraction. . . There is darkness under my fingernails and I have been called forth like a wandering spirit. What is my purpose, you may ask? Perhaps the strength to survive even in the turmoils of being crushed like a diamond. These sediments of mine have stories to tell, but you shall not speak of things that may never be understood. I have become the meaning hidden in riddles, yet no one has ever been close enough to understand the way my heart beats. My tears are unable to fall, so they seep into my blood and become poetry. Is it possible for me to be a poet or just a sad soul with no place to call home? Perhaps God created poets to transform grief into prayers, a way of liberating karma. . ©@ink_of_insanity . 📸 Pinterest .
. When history recounts the horrors of Palestine it will reinvent a new word to describe the atrocities that took place. The word genocide will no longer be sufficient. The actions of the isrli army surpasses any hell, devilish action and depravity imaginable. Children buried alive. Zip tied and buried. Those are the new accounts coming from the Al-Nasser Hospital mass graveyard. I'm beyond words. Beyond thinking. I'm gutted. Utterly gutted. . #istandwithpalestine #freepalesti̇ne #freepalastine #femalepoets #poetesse #poetsofig #muslimwriters #muslimauthors #silenceisbetrayal #speakupforthevoiceless #digter #poets #thecultivatedfool #darkpoetry #silenceisnotanoption #palestinewillbefree #humanitylost #poetrylovers #writersofcolor #herheartpoetry #poeticreveries_ #heartofpoetsbloom #poetrylovers #abiertoreino #bymepoetryamerica #bymepoetryeurope #spilledinkpoetry #poetstext #poetsxo #societyofpoetry
There is nowhere to hide. #poetryisart #poetry_addicts #poetry #poetryaddict #poetrysociety #thecultivatedfool #poetryislife #poetryaddicts #poetryislove #poetryforthesoul #poetrylover #poetryclub #instapoems #poetrycommunity #writinginsociety #tribeofpoets #poetscorner #poetscommunity #poetssociety #thoughtfvl #writersuniverse #globalpoetcult #passionofpoetry #spilledthoughts #communityofwriters #creativewriting #writingcommunity #igpoetry #LOVE
trust the process 🧿 Tags - #rheakhemani #dumbowritesx #prosepoetry #girlswhowrite #untwineme #evepoetrygroup #quotesbyheart #poemxheaven #quotestoloveby #apoeticview #poetry #writerspocket #runawaywriters #theliteralscript #thecultivatedfool #pentupthoughts #poetsandwriters #spilledinkpoetry #herheartpoetry #poetsempire #poetryrise #poetspecial #rainofpoetry #pentupthoughts #bymepoetrylove #uncertaincreative #poetsglobe #poetrybyheart #poetstribe ♡
Caption I want love to find me among the stars, to envelop me like the light of the moon, to paint green on my spine like a forest. I don't want to settle for half of a honeycomb – my soul doesn't reside in half of a word. I want to be immersed in the shades of the sky like summer. Don't keep me tied to the notion of "maybe"; love me for who I am, or let me go free. I can't seem to define this feeling beyond the semblance of mortality. There's an eruption of cosmic phenomena emanating from my heartbeat like a Phoenix rising from scattered ashes, waiting to take flight. Maybe I've been reborn in your image, a holy thing wrapped in blood, a grandeur of stardust traversing through the ether. I often wonder why I've spent my entire life chasing after illusions, loving people who've never made me feel loved, and building homes for people only to be left homeless. I often wonder about all the broken things inside of me and why they've never been worthy of being seen. I broke my own heart fixing beats in other people's chests. I emptied my cup pouring into every vessel I've ever met, and now I understand how unholy the crimes I have committed against myself are. Maybe I have always seen myself through a clouded lens. Perhaps it's time for me to halt my pursuit, sit with myself, and consider all the things that make me enough. Maybe it's time to uncheck the boxes, untangle the knots, and find the path that leads me to the oasis where my thoughts have drowned themselves in petulance. I don't want to be pitied for my kindness. I've tasted bitter things as holy offerings. I now know the strength it takes to put myself on trial, replaying each portrait of my life, bingeing on emotions that were caused by my own actions. How can I know love if I'm unknown to myself? How can I be loved if I allow everyone to pluck me like a flower only to leave me withered in an expensive vase? Love and I have been playing hide and seek my entire life, or maybe love has been teaching me how to value my own footsteps. Perhaps I've been chasing a figment only to find myself amid tolerance's rottenness. . ©@ink_of_insanity . 📸 Pinterest . Follow @ink_of_insanity For more.
Caption Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Tingling. Hyperventilating. Choking on air, mind distracted, disconnected, disoriented. Limbs numb, throat dry. Tick, tick, tick. Life palpitates, visions blurry, words slurred. Dead, alive, alive, why? I am okay, I am here. This is not real. Shadows danced upon the windows, branches swayed back and forth. Nothing is amiss. Pinching, biting, tapping, turning, hardly breathing, crashing, psychosis. There is a light, it's calling, summoning spirits, beyond the grave, shallow steps, loud banging. Stop. I can't breathe, I'm dying, thirsty, purging, candlelight dinner, last supper. The disparity has no friends. Panic has maimed my lungs and taken control, tugging strings like a ragdoll. . . Inhale, exhale, senses alert, one, two, three, ten-second counts. This misery has captured me in a roundabout, circling, penetrating, dizziness, drunken stupor, losing grip, profound, poignant, nagging reality below my chest. These near-death experiences have touched me deeply, leaving me feeling needy. I have been impounded, pressed in, and pressured to collapse. Yet, my heart stands in the cyclone, beating at one hundred beats per second, like a blizzard inside my being, churning grief into melodies. And I have seen the sky split in two, demons descend upon the earth, inducing a coma in my liver. This war is consuming, like a zombie tethering its claws to my memories. Make it stop. I can't anymore. Please. I beg of you. In and out, just keep breathing. . . My boat has holes and cracks in its bow, sirens, and capsized logs, and I am in the middle of nowhere without a sail. I am not a sailor, but I must paddle forward. If the scale tips over, I may lose myself, strapped in a straightjacket as shrapnel flies acid in my face. There was no gun, but the trigger was pulled, launching me into a battle for survival. The flares have set me off and like a lantern, my flames keep bouncing through a forest, wreaking havoc. Is it the placebo effect or am I just a human caught in a net, fluttering like a fish, waiting for fate to let me go? I am no longer in control of my body, and now I am just a corpse, a victim of anxiety. .
Caption Why are you wasting your time trying to fit into everyone else's ideas of you? You're not too much, too sensitive, or too anything. You are allowed a space to be your authentic self, and if people can't vibe with that, then they are not your people. By dimming your light, you're preventing yourself from experiencing the life you were meant to live. If someone has a problem with how bright or loud you shine, let them go. Life is not short, but life is too precious to give others access to every door in your life and permit them to interfere with your well-being. Certain individuals will keep you at your lowest point because it gives them a sense of fulfillment that they have never experienced. They will continue to run and force you to chase them because it gives them a sense of significance. I'm not convinced that you chose to be here as a product to smooth over their egos and edges. People will rev you up like a car and express their displeasure if you become too loud. Narcissists will prioritize their own benefits over your emotions and feelings. Stop allowing people to pollute your life, stifle your aura, and make you feel small. Don't allow generational conditioning to cripple your eyesight and cause you to become ignorant of ill-treatment, believing it to be normal or your fault. Stop giving people the benefit of the doubt and begin to cleanse your life of them. You don't deserve to be hit back and forth for anyone's entertainment like a ball on a ping pong table. Isn't it time for you to stop fighting with yourself? Is it okay to punish yourself for things that are out of your control? Aren't you convinced that it's time for you to start your journey, experience life, and do things that fill your skin with bliss? Are you not of the opinion that it's time to burn those bridges, close those doors, and start anew? What obstacles are currently preventing you from creating a beautiful life for yourself? You're not living other people's lives, darling. You're living your own. Stop comparing your progress with everyone and appreciate how far you have come. Express gratitude for all the small accomplishments you have made, and recognize your efforts.
i hope you do🤍
Caption If a heart shatters and no one is there to hear it, does it become a familiar part of the forest, like a tree? When a heart breaks, does it forget how to be loved or does it keep seeking love from those who hurt it? How long does a heart continue to bleed before life shows mercy and the body thaws the numbness to resuscitate the straight line of a heartbeat? How many doses of CPR does one need to revive the spark between the dimness of a ribcage? People may betray a heart, but a heartbeat will never betray the air that pumps through the lungs. Yet, in silence, many greet death with a firm handshake of heartbroken syndrome. How can we blame something so strong for being so fragile? . . I stay up each night with the stars, wondering if they too have experienced the pain of listening to their hearts shatter over and over again. Perhaps beyond the burning clump of gas, there exists a tender life. Maybe stars are just souls shimmering far away. I often view myself outside of my own body, picking and plucking at things that bewilder me. My lips feel soft between the skin of my fingers as if they are waiting to be tortured or possibly pleasured. As humans, can we survive without love? I have tried to dull the sharpness of emotions into an ice tray and watch as they freeze without remorse, yet somehow they become an ode to love. It reminds me of the games I used to play as a child with the moon. No matter how fast I ran, she was always there, right beside me. . . We write poems for people who confuse us, but rarely do we write poems about ourselves. Can the poet not be his own muse? Can I not serenade myself as I relish in the downpour of life, while I etch soft words into the marrow of my being? Can I not talk to the moon about myself, and how deeply I have fallen in love with the words under my spine? What is life without love? Perhaps we may never know, because no matter how stern and detached we may think we are, we all want to be illuminated by love, to be pleasured by it. To die in the arms of it while we cherish memories and moments and lovers. . ©@ink_of_insanity . 📸 Pinterest . Follow @ink_of_insanity For more.
The wings of transformation are born of patience and struggle. 🦋 Follow @artneverlies.90s for more.
F O C U S 🧿 Bg @bjt.ng Tags - #rheakhemani #dumbowritesx #prosepoetry #girlswhowrite #untwineme #evepoetrygroup #quotesbyheart #poemxheaven #quotestoloveby #apoeticview #poetry #writerspocket #runawaywriters #theliteralscript #thecultivatedfool #pentupthoughts #poetsandwriters #spilledinkpoetry #herheartpoetry #poetsempire #poetryrise #poetspecial #rainofpoetry #pentupthoughts #bymepoetrylove #uncertaincreative #poetsglobe #poetrybyheart #poetstribe ♡
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Caption Life is not restricted to a chapter or a paragraph, my love. Life is the entire book. Don't let a bad chapter prevent you from using the pen. You own the pages and they are waiting for your words to touch them. I understand that there are times when it's too dark and you want to lay under the covers and rest the book under your pillow. It's fine, but know that the lines will gladly accept your cursive writing when you are ready. You don't need to be a best-selling author or a prolific poet, all you need is to allow your heart and mind to guide your desires onto the pages. The paradox of possessing limitless magic is that there will always be uncertainty between the metaphors. . . Even though you have challenging days, you still glow with life and it's impressive to see your strength and bravery. While I admire your compassion, empathy, and kindness, I have a concern. You don't allow yourself to breathe, you are too focused on your efforts, and your lack of gratitude for who you are is a little upsetting. I hope one day you will see how magnificent you truly are and stop wearing the opinions of others on your sleeve. Don't you think it is time for you to allow yourself the privilege of blooming, watering your garden, and trimming the weeds that have taken up so much space that they are stealing the fragrance from your flowers? Your gentleness towards others is a contrast to your callousness towards yourself. Unlearning the personalities that have been fueling your mind with self-hatred is necessary. . . I am certain that you have observed the way people treat you and the way you beg for the simplest things from them when you have been selfless towards those who need your help. I understand it hurts you, but you show up for everyone without any expectation of anything in return. You also need to be swept off your feet, to feel appreciated, understood, and cared for. You are also a person with emotions and needs. Your book is yours to write, and you can decide when to change your story. You have that power. But to do that, you must know that you are deserving of happiness. You are deserving of love, never question that.
. There is such a deafening silence surrounding the mass graves at Al-Nasser Hospital. As more than 200 victims are dug up revealing not only hospital staff zip-tied and executed, but CHILDREN, the world media has found the usual duct tape to plaster across their lips. Children. Ziptied with their small hands behind their backs and executed. Then dumped into mass graves. Where is the worldwide outcry? Where is world media? Where are all the celebrity human rights activists and whatnot? Disgraceful. What a rotten world. What rotten conscience. What lack of soul and feeling. What kind of creatures zip tie children, kill them and then dug mass braves to dump them in? Sick. Sick. Sick. Never forgive. Never forget. Never. Free Palestine. . #istandwithpalestine #freepalesti̇ne #freepalastine #femalepoets #poetesse #poetsofig #muslimwriters #muslimauthors #silenceisbetrayal #speakupforthevoiceless #digter #poets #thecultivatedfool #darkpoetry #silenceisnotanoption #palestinewillbefree #humanitylost #poetrylovers #writersofcolor #herheartpoetry #poeticreveries_ #heartofpoetsbloom #poetrylovers #abiertoreino #bymepoetryamerica #bymepoetryeurope #spilledinkpoetry #poetstext #poetsxo #societyofpoetry
Caption Upon the end of the dream and the opening of my eyes, I sat alone. My eyes dripped as my mind came into being. It wasn't going to last, was it? The emotions that had emerged within me blossomed with a diverse array of hues, but none carried my fragrance. I am not sure which frightened me more, the illusion or the reality, but I stood there wet in sweat and trying to grasp the semblance of sanity. There have never been any moments where my dreams didn't slip out of my fingers and land on someone's lips, or where I vanished into the background as the scenery infused those who were fortunate enough to intertwine with the thread of life. . . Was I the supporting actor, the substitute who filled in for the lead as life brought them up to speed? Did I just act as an umbrella until the rain stopped its meditation? Was I a cloud that blocked the sun for a few minutes until the land regained visibility? Was it just a typo in a story that was retracted? So many questions sit on the flesh of my tongue, unwilling to be swallowed back down. The irony of being a punchline evokes a shiver on the cusp of my throat. Do I have the option to laugh, cry, or bury myself in the weeping willow tree? Maybe I am akin to God, where one's hand is folded only when life gets tough, but once the sail is fixed and the sea becomes smooth, prayers are lost in the waves until they are needed again. I can't help but smirk at the thought of being told I deserved the world, yet many refused to provide me with a grain of rice to quell my hunger. . . I don't want the world. I am not that gluttonous. Maybe I just want a little bit of space, a place where I don't have to ponder if someone is dishonest. Maybe I am looking for something genuine, that stings my bones and liberates me from the tyranny of hope that gradually deteriorates my inner being. Perhaps I just want to be loved, and not betrayed. Love? Like a salesperson in my sleep, it enters my mind and fills it with fantasies, but it disintegrates as soon as the sun rises. The sound of my heart breaking like ice falling to the ground in the most beautiful sonnet seems wonderful. . ©@ink_of_insanity . 📸 Pinterest .
fate /destiny Tags - #rheakhemani #dumbowritesx #prosepoetry #girlswhowrite #untwineme #evepoetrygroup #quotesbyheart #poemxheaven #quotestoloveby #apoeticview #poetry #writerspocket #runawaywriters #theliteralscript #thecultivatedfool #pentupthoughts #poetsandwriters #spilledinkpoetry #herheartpoetry #poetsempire #poetryrise #poetspecial #rainofpoetry #pentupthoughts #bymepoetrylove #uncertaincreative #poetsglobe #poetrybyheart #poetstribe ♡
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Caption Have the audacity to choose yourself. Fight for yourself, set your table with all the delicious foods you love, and only allow those who inspire you to shine brighter in your space. Be brave enough to love yourself, with the kind of love you desire from a partner – flowers, long walks, and movie nights with blankets and red wine. Give yourself time, space, and patience to bloom. Growth isn't something that comes easy; it takes a strong dose of reality to fully wake us up. Your life is a celebration, darling. Why are you standing in a corner while others change the soundtrack? Be faithful to yourself. You owe yourself commitment and loyalty. Our bodies react to our thoughts, and what we think about ourselves will manifest in our stories. It's important to let go of the ways you were raised. The sky is yours to paint, the clouds pour on your command, and nature nurtures you like a mother. Sit with her and listen to everything she says. Take deep breaths, breathe in self-love, and let go of all the negative energies you are hoarding from others. Negative energies can cause indigestion and cramping in your stomach. Release them with love, light, and forgiveness into the earth. Your life is not a mistake. You are not a mistake. The universe doesn't make mistakes. You are here because here is where you're meant to be. We are trapped in a prison of insecurities by the notion of not being enough, but aren't we all enough because we possess an infinite soul in the flesh of our beings? Stop seeking validation from individuals who are unable to see themselves in the mirror. This trend of perfection has clouded our perception of important things. Social media has created the perfect fallacy to manipulate and judge individuals, emphasizing their flaws as if they were supposed to be blemish-free. Even the moon has scars, but it still shines like a goddess. If you are incapable of loving, accepting, and respecting yourself for who you are, you will always attract people who treat you like an option. Love yourself loud, make it roar, ignore what others think, and focus on what you're creating. You have only one life, make it a masterpiece. . 📸PINTEREST
. 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
Caption It was to be, but it never was, and each second the clock chimes upon the hour my mind tries to rein its frivolity. It has to be, wasn't that the quandary that squanders the sway of the peacock? It is not where I left it. From where shall I look? Like a lost deer, wondering in the brittle glare of headlights, was it a savior or a messenger from beyond? Please tell me you have made a copy, don't make me look in places I am trying to forgo. I have never tasted the honey from a ripened peach, but I have smelt the fragrance. Oh, dear me, my memory beseeched me, upon a parched porch rocking in the view of a freshly baked pumpkin pie. Should I dip my finger and lick the hunger from my flesh, would my morals allow it? . . The stairwell seemed endless as I trampled upon the creaking, lecherous floorboards. Silence is required; noise is not allowed, otherwise, the weary dread of being mistaken will make love to my empty bones. If it's not a quest, why must I be questioned? My fragile cup barely holds anything, it's half empty and half nothingness. The twitch of my eyes brings into my vision a supernatural premonition. Golly, I'm one of them. Another tab of bad luck is stacked on the banister. My limbs have lost their willingness to trek, but I must paddle this body to the top else what will folks say? The gossipers have gathered around the bonfire like a cult, calling forth a seance from the great abyss, whispering spells and whatnots as if they had been given the gift of clairvoyance. Foolish people allow their tongues to indulge in debauchery. . . Is it here or there? What is this despair of searching for a string of hay in a bag of needles? If I prick my fingers, I wonder what my blood will taste like. For I shall not waste this barrel of conundrum counting flabbergasted pronunciation of things I have no inkling of. I am hung and sprung into a tale so peculiar that it is akin to the emblem of a spider's web. Oh, jolly, I have remembered where I had hidden said keepsake. Silly me, it has been here all along staring mischievously into my eyes. By God, if I could, I would make love to myself over and over. This attire of peace has turned me irresistible.
. Just a little hope in dark times. Never forgive. Never forget. Free Plstn. . #istandwithpalestine #freepalesti̇ne #freepalastine #femalepoets #poetesse #poetsofig #muslimwriters #muslimauthors #silenceisbetrayal #speakupforthevoiceless #digter #poets #thecultivatedfool #darkpoetry #silenceisnotanoption #palestinewillbefree #humanitylost #poetrylovers #writersofcolor #herheartpoetry #poeticreveries_ #heartofpoetsbloom #poetrylovers #abiertoreino #bymepoetryamerica #bymepoetryeurope #spilledinkpoetry #poetstext #poetsxo #societyofpoetry
Caption The brown in your eyes has become the canvas of my soul, for each time you look at me, I bloom a little more. I count the seconds every day, how many more moons will be needed to close the distance between us? I long to breathe you in, to kiss the scars on your knuckles, and run my fingers through the black of your hair. I have never loved and longed for a touch, one that spreads with the essence of you like a gentle drizzle of rain upon the soil. Although I may stumble with my words, as butterflies flutter inside me when you call, each pulse of mine is yours to caress. You and I are the same. Seas bend into a river of sentiments, like words to a song piercing each broken piece of yours into the warmth of mine. . . And if one day you ever question if my love for you is true, just rest your head on my chest and listen to how each beat of my heart craves the presence of you. My love, not even the cold of October can freeze the reverie of you between seasons, for we were written into the stars before our bodies were carved. And I know of all the ways you think you're not enough, but allow me to press my lips into the flesh of yours and taste the way your breath tangles with mine. I see you in all the ways you have yet to see yourself, and each day I fall a little more, hoping that one day it will be your arms that I fall in. I love you more than I can ever write poems to express, more than words spoken by tongues into shallow puddles, more than prayers carried on the blanket of clouds to the heavens. . . It is my wish to be immersed in every moment of this life with you. To hold you through each storm, to shelter you from every thought, and to touch you in ways that soothe your limbs. For how blessed am I to be able to call myself yours, to have a home in the beating of your chest? Your love has penetrated the depths of my being and it is there that I wish to stay, for without you I am just a mere word seeking a definition. I believe love is a gift, one that is meant to be cherished, appreciated, and hugged like a lullaby, a softness that creates a bond between two bodies as they merge into a beautiful story. I will seek you out, forever.
Open
Caption There is an ode rolling on the skin of my tongue, and each time it threatens to spill, I force myself to swallow its meaning. The litany of my past has infused me like a grape, and over time, I have lost the ability to taste anything new. These mournful woes fill the air of my morning like freshly ground coffee, and now I have become a barista for my fate. My heart, a peasant yearning for a few drops, dreams of a shimmering softness it has never felt. I have foreseen the weight of this musing, as it has swiveled like a bird perched on a broken branch. Unbecoming the folklore that has confined me, prickled the pores of my soul, for how do I exist in a world I have not yet known? . . Life's gal has serendipitously sprouted roots in the chambers of my heart where many once danced, but for now, it has become desolate. Not many will celebrate your woes as they celebrate your happiness. These hands of mine shiver from the coldness of abandon, a parchment of subtle nuances. Oh, how breathtaking it is to feel so much and so little at the same time. To adorn your spirit with numbness while words perforate layers of your flesh like iodine. Brokenness has held me in its grasp, and I have once surrendered to the fire. Isn't that the essence of burning, to be born anew from the ashes of what you once were? Alone has never tasted bitter to me, as I have been accustomed to relishing in the acoustic of my voice. . . The animosity of prayers lost in a breath of sigh beseeches me to erode the cavity of my emotions. I have tried many times to flip the switch, turn off the lights, and sit still in the darkness. How do I pluck my feelings like thorns from my limbs? I have a strange urge to disappear, to remove all the layers from myself until there is nothing left. I will be aloof like a comet floating in the ether of space without any direction. The smell of my insanity permeates my being, and the finality of its cessation tingles in my stomach, like a flaming torch leading a sinking ship to the surface. It's possible that I've lost my way in the figment or that I've become untangled and found myself in a mess. . ©@ink_of_insanity . 📸Pinterest .
happy Friday 🔥 every time you show up parallelism to the source of love our angels flock together - oath taken illusion of separation your aura veil of love state of spiritual ecstasy the universe calling us to play immense gratitude showing up - now i miss you more than ever - #thecultivatedfool #brokenboweclipseadventure2024 #eclipse2024 #nikon200500 #eclipsephoto #nikor200_500mm #solareclipse2024
Caption And if one day I should lose my memory, I will remember you by your scent, your touch, and the way your lips curve into my life, like a rainbow bent across the equator. My mind may dwindle in your thoughts as I try to piece your portrait back together, but my eyes will always be etched in your imagery. Your name may fade from my voice, but each syllable will continue to beat in the corner of my heart. Love is more than just a four-letter word; it's the breath of one soul that gives life to another. And when I write about such a feeling, my fingers soothe around each verse like a candle dancing on top of a flame. The longing may stray, but it will always return to you in reverie. . . Even though I can forget the entire world and become a stranger again, I will never forget the way you tasted in my mouth, like a prayer reaching the gates of heaven. I will always find you, between each metaphor, in the songs of nature and the pitter-patter of rain cascading along the roof. My memory may fade, but the thoughts of you are safely tucked in the ocean of my consciousness. Love can liberate even the vilest of creatures, and I have completely surrendered to its gentleness. Like a flower anew I give my fragrance to you, along the allure of your skin and into the hues of your soul. I cannot stop the cursive of my pen from touching the paper, for they too have fallen in love with each other. Each time they touch, they give birth to poetry. The ink stains the paper delicately, never stepping over its lines in respect. . . You and I are like pen and paper. We complete each other in a way that goes beyond the flesh of life. For words never die, they become immortal on the lips that recite their stanza. Permit me to inscribe you on the lines of my palm, for I have never known a life without you in it. Where shall I build a home if not in the warmth of your arms as they wrap around me tightly? And with each passing day, I count the stars seeking their blessings. I know the time is near for us to collide into a celestial union. And if there should come a time when I lose my memory, I'll chant your name and forget mine. . ©@ink_of_insanity
. From the river to the sea. . #istandwithpalestine #freepalesti̇ne #freepalastine #femalepoets #poetesse #poetsofig #muslimwriters #muslimauthors #silenceisbetrayal #speakupforthevoiceless #digter #poets #thecultivatedfool #darkpoetry #silenceisnotanoption #palestinewillbefree #humanitylost #poetrylovers #writersofcolor #poeticreveries_ #micropoet #muslimwriter #muslimauthor #poetrymaykhana #poemofig #wordssmith #writercommunity #bipocwriters #thecultivatedfool #flawedandfabulous
Fauxpology.
Caption And I shall die. In this breath, I will drown myself in the sea. This tiring life has once again mocked me. And I will plant lilacs between the bones of my frail body, paint my headstone in the color beige, and trample upon the soil before I lower my carcass into the warm dirt. I shall sing a song and recite my eulogy as ravens caw over my head. Life has poisoned me to sleep like a prick on my fingers with grief, and here lies a body that no one wishes to kiss awake. I will walk among the dead and cry between the living as I stand witness to sorrow and its many faces of disparity. Perhaps death doesn't seem scary at all. Where one lays to rest, flowers bloom around rough edges without the need to smooth over their sharpness. If death is liberation, then maybe life is imprisonment. . . The shadows carry their whimsical gossip as bodies unearth themselves in the cemetery, stretching their barely attached legs as their heads spin around like a kaleidoscope. And there I stood, relishing in the stench of the afterlife without fear in my eyes as I was welcomed. The desire to remain here is gnawing at my bones. There is no judgment, no masks, just a celebration of a new beginning. Darkness doesn't have an evil definition as one puts it. The world isn't upside down in opinions, and people don't spit vile words at each other. They embrace the end of a journey as they share stories of once upon a time. . . And how I wish to dance among the weeds as they wrap me in thorns, for they feel more like home than the roses ever did. I reverberate in the grace of chaos; happiness is just a visitor like a dream from God long forgotten as my eyes awaken from their slumber. In a world where positivity is the norm, I feel like an outsider with my melancholic words and dripping depression. Perhaps I have found my home in the middle, a place where my eyes are clear enough to prevent fog from obscuring my perception. I long to bloom once more in another existence, where cruelty doesn't scar my skin and love consumes me as much as poets consume words. Maybe if I die, I will know all the ways people loved me, as their tears stain the fabric of my body. . ©@ink_of_insanity
Caption I yearn for you between the grains of the desert and the droplets of the ocean, in the rays of sunbeams and glares of the moon, in the alignment of stars and stories written from my hopeful heart. Through the intertwining of fingers, the warmth of a hug, tender lips, and soft words. In the breath of the whimsical wind, the scent of the earth, and the colors of petals. Like spring, I am waiting for you, melting away from the snowflakes and slipping into the roots of flowers as I eagerly anticipate their blooming. This erratic mind of mine yearns to be caressed slowly, intimately, and with intense passion. I want to be immersed in your colors, etched into your heartbeat, and sheltered by your soul like a rainbow across the sky. . . On my knees I pray for love, a bouquet of grace, to be infused in a story that allows me the privilege to traverse each line as if they have been poured out from my blood. These hands have vowed to change the destiny that has repressed me, to free my heart from captivity and observe its delicate beating in the syllables of romance. Perhaps love will provide me with a single rose as I stand on its shore and reflect my desires beyond the horizon, for one day I shall be worthy of its piousness. Maybe I yearn for a place that I have never visited, to glance into eyes that I have never seen, to feel the essence of someone familiar, to lay beside the warmth of another as safety cushions me to sleep. I have been starving for so long that I have forgotten the taste of food. . . And I yearn for you, not knowing your name, the poem of your face, or the way your smile paints on the canvas of your eyes. Would I be able to recognize your voice if you ever spoke my name? Will my tingle be ignited in your presence? Will I always look for you in a crowd? My soul may be aware of your presence as time ticks away and the world comes to a halt. Love will know, love will understand, love will see itself, like a scent calling one home. And if you're waiting for me too, know that this body of mine is a vessel filled with love only for you. Is it foolish to be hopeful or should I bury myself among the weeds of hopelessness? . ©@ink_of_insanity .
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. So, tell me. What does it take to condemn the murder of children? Do they need to have a certain skin colour or perhaps be born on “the right side of a border”? Or region? Do they need to have blue eyes and blond hair? Oh wait, we don't like to say things like that out loud, do we? Let keep the “diplomatic” approach which is concealing the truth and turning a blind eye just like the world leaders have done. Tell me. Why do they cry about outdated missiles from Iran aiming at military targets while an iof drone just massacred 11 children in a playground? Yes, you read it correctly: a drone [which is deadly in its precision ] deliberately targeted children in a playground in plstne. A playground. Eleven children. Think about that and then tell me if the world hasn't lost its collective conscience when no condemnation arrises from this. We have reached the lowest, darkest and most inhumane level as humans. This era is dark. Dark. Never forgive. Never forget. Free Plstne. . #istandwithpalestine #freepalesti̇ne #freepalastine #femalepoets #poetesse #poetsofig #muslimwriters #muslimauthors #silenceisbetrayal #speakupforthevoiceless #digter #poets #thecultivatedfool #darkpoetry #silenceisnotanoption #palestinewillbefree #humanitylost #poetrylovers #writersofcolor #herheartpoetry #poeticreveries_ #heartofpoetsbloom #poetrylovers #abiertoreino #bymepoetryamerica #bymepoetryeurope #spilledinkpoetry #poetstext #poetsxo #societyofpoetry
Caption Like a prayer from heaven, grief settles between the lashes of my eyes, cascading down the arch of my face and resting on the fabric of my pillow. I have had this feeling many times before, the urge to cry, to cry until the sea in my soul dries up. No reason, no conviction, no motive, and no plea deal to calm the storm that lies within my heart. Just a moment of surrender where I surrender myself to my emotions without reservation. During those hours, my body becomes a beautiful paradoxical cloud, ushering downpours and prickles that stain my skin with colors, words, and intangible feelings. . . As if they were having a divine debate, I listen to all the voices inside, some of them ridiculous and some of them wise beyond my lifetime. The tug and churn of the ocean within me was like a clandestine wave crashing upon my bones, echoing into the walls of my mind and bouncing into the lining of my breath, suffocating me like a clogged pipe. Yet, I surrender to the feelings, to the anger of every paragraph ever written into my spine. Like a mosaic of unraveling stupor, everything seems to be out of place and cluttered with rancid ink. The silence of night refuses to allow dawn to arrive. The waiting for the sun to kiss my skin with comfort is agonizing as if time itself took a slumber lost in a dream so sweet that it has forgotten my plight. The wetness of my tears enters the cavity or mouth, urging my palate to taste its salty truths. . . Like a harp playing music serendipitously, sorrows mellow into my eyelids. My fingers and feet cover my body in a blanket of dread, taunting my flesh with graceful what-ifs. At times, memories creep up like iodine on exposed flesh, stinging the pigment of my blood into every inch of my body, and dazzling my senses with nostalgia. The lines of my palm that extend across the veil of my existence are damaged, like a molded painting left too long with the sun fading the hues. Life is similar to a song with no words, a flute being played to the deaf, portraits being shown to the blind, and the dumb being instructed to beg with stories of poverty. . ©@ink_of_insanity . 📸Pinterest . Follow @ink_of_insanity
••| my wish for you🤍 from my book ‘dining with the enemy’ available on amazon
. As the spineless and blackhearted leaders of the “civilized” world continue to ignore the plight of the Palestinians and the news agencies whose foremost duty was to tell the truth continue to disguise it and cover it up with lies and false narrative, I humbly ask you to remember Plstne. It is not over. There is no peace yet and they are still suffering beyond human comprehension. Do not let the recent event lure your attention away from whats happening in Plstne. Keep talking about Plstne. Never forgive. Never forget. . #istandwithpalestine #freepalesti̇ne #freepalastine #femalepoets #poetesse #poetsofig #muslimwriters #muslimauthors #silenceisbetrayal #speakupforthevoiceless #digter #poets #thecultivatedfool #darkpoetry #silenceisnotanoption #palestinewillbefree #humanitylost #poetrylovers #writersofcolor #herheartpoetry #poeticreveries_ #heartofpoetsbloom #poetrylovers #abiertoreino #bymepoetryamerica #bymepoetryeurope #spilledinkpoetry #poetstext #poetsxo #societyofpoetry
Muse.
Caption We are creatures of emotions, possessing a realm of undiscovered magic that lies within the pores of our skin, but we deprive ourselves of limbs by crawling on the floor of things that rob us of our identity. We were taught to suppress our emotions and conceal ourselves behind a smile as the world within us crumbles. We have all been infused with knowledge that paralyzes us into a shallow casing of numbness. We were not taught how to use our strength, resilience, and courage to overcome obstacles. However, the lessons of external validation and being easily brainwashed were conditioned into us the moment we understood the letters of the alphabet. Look at us now walking around with a bag of trauma, unsure of how to break cycles and patterns and let go of toxicity. . . Boys were taught not to cry and girls were taught to polish their skin and stand in a corner. Boys were conditioned to dominate and girls were conditioned to always listen and not speak. Isn't it unsettling how everyone is disconnected from themselves and their energy, running like tadpoles on concrete to reach the river before they pass? The fallacies of what makes a powerful individual aren't their ability to hide their pain and grief, but their vulnerability and softness to be expressive. Power comes from grace, where we give space and recognize that we are humans and have emotions. What are we attempting to fix and heal from? From where shall we start? In my view, we don't even know who we are. . . Who am I? What is left after I remove myself from my experiences, environment, words, and things that have happened to me, whether good or bad? Who am I when I don't have those stigmas and definitions attached to my spine? When I speak of myself, I speak of the stories that have narrated themselves into my breath, but the question remains: who am I? What is my identity? It's a shame that I'm unable to answer or reflect on the last time I recognized myself. It takes a second to cause harm, but it takes a lifetime to untangle from the trenches and resurface. Is that why we exist in this realm? To find our way out of the abyss and into the meadow? . ©@ink_of_insanity . 📸 Pinterest .
. As the events of this world are now unfolding towards further conflict, we truly see the hypocrisy of the Arab rulers in regard to protecting Gaza and we have witnessed the dead and blackened hearts of western governments. Human life has value depending on skin colour. White supremacy has never rang out so loudly as it has the past six months. Let it be known which side of history you chose. Let it be known so your legacy will be that you witnessed, spoke up and didn’t remain quiet. Let your legacy be that you cared. That your soul was not dead. I have contained so much fury and hurt inside me; watching the nauseating hypocrisy of world rulers where few have truly stepped up to do what’s right while most have turned they eyes away. It’s sickening to see how little value a childs life has in our world; we allowed it to be executed and for its remains to rot. That’s our humanity today. That’s the condition of this world. Shameful. Unforgivable. Unforgettable. We will never forgive -we will never forget. . #istandwithpalestine #freepalesti̇ne #freepalastine #femalepoets #poetesse #poetsofig #muslimwriters #muslimauthors #silenceisbetrayal #speakupforthevoiceless #digter #poets #thecultivatedfool #darkpoetry #silenceisnotanoption #palestinewillbefree #humanitylost #poetrylovers #writersofcolor
Delusion.
Hey all! :) Assuming you all love poetry 😉 I've recently finished up publishing a book of poems called "my Shepherd.” This is a compilation of poems I've jotted down through the last three years. It reflects themes of God's love and provision as we walk through life with Him as our Shepherd and dear friend. If it sounds like something you're interested in, maybe consider checking it out! Link in bio :) . . . . #godpoetry #godisstrength #godisbeautiful #godpoems #poemsaboutgod #weneedgod #heisfaithful #loveofgod #godislove #godisgoodalways #poetryaboutgod #poetry #poemsaboutstrength # #weneedhim #heislove #saved #christianpoems #heismineandiamhis #christianpoetrycommunity #godstrength #newinhim #strengthofgod #iamhis #strengthofgodinme #poetry #poemsbyme #poemsaboutlife #poemsociety #poemsofig #poetryisnotdead #thecultivatedfool
. And the list is too long 💔 . #istandwithpalestine #freepalesti̇ne #freepalastine #femalepoets #poetesse #poetsofig #muslimwriters #muslimauthors #silenceisbetrayal #speakupforthevoiceless #digter #poets #thecultivatedfool #darkpoetry #silenceisnotanoption #palestinewillbefree #humanitylost #poetrylovers #writersofcolor #womenpoets #muslimauthor #listpoetry #antioppression #poetryflow
#originalpoetry #haikupoem #haikupoetry #ilovepoetry #thecultivatedfool #followthelight #poemsoninstagram #evepoetrygroup #societyofpoetry #poemsofinsta #poetrycommunityofig #shortpoems #communityofpoetry #poeticthoughts #poetrytribe #amateurpoet #poetspecial #publish #intent #fullfillment #micropoetryfeatures #empowermentquotes #ascent #ascend #trustyourpath #lightwithin #createyourreality #ascendant #ascender #openness