108 posts
  • rudraskhan 16w

    Vision Of Love

    Treated me Kind......Sweet Destiny,
    Carried me through desperation,
    To the One that was waiting for Me....

    You took so long.....Still I believed,
    Somehow the one that I needed,
    Would find me Eventually.....

    I had a Vision of Love,
    And it was All that you've given to Me....

  • daydreaming_scribbler 17w

    Sorry for making it too long ������
    But trust me it took me 2 minutes to read.
    I tried my best I hope so, so please have mercy on my work .

    I don't know if this gives you nightmares ����
    Wrote it just for fun��

    BALLAD is a narrative poem depicting a story in ABAB rhyming scheme. This one is a horror ballad for #ballad_dds challenge.

    This isn't counting for my submission �� for fair play .

    Awaiting your horrific masterpieces.������❤❤

    #writerstolli #writersnetwork #mirakee #horror #ballad #poetryforms_dds

    @daydreaming_scribbler @writersnetwork @writerstolli @we_support @willow923

    Read More


    Once upon a time
    In the city of Rome
    There lived a couple in street named rime
    The man used to research on nome

    One day he left for Greece
    Leaving his beloved alone
    "I'll come back soon my peace
    Take care of our hearthstone"

    Few years later
    He returned safely
    Successfully earning Ealger
    Remembering his wife lonely

    He reached his city of Rome
    Missing his wife
    He knocked at his home
    His wife creepingly opened the door holding a knife

    "Darling I knew you will return
    I've cooked your favorite sausages"
    "Okay dear now its my turn"
    He hugs her and kisses

    In the evening he went to market
    There he saw his old mates
    "How I wish my friend you arrived early with this basket"
    "Then you would have seen your wife waiting alive for you at gates"

    "What!!" He screamed and returned home
    She was nowhere to be found
    "You left me alone to be raped and killed"came voice from the dome
    "Don't worry I killed my rapists"and he was left spellbound

    " I am sorry for that. Just tell me you're alive
    And you love me"
    "Ha ha "the thunder into his ears did dive
    " No more do you owe me"

    Suddenly the world seemed to be upside down
    "Holy Christ!" He screamed when the cross fell
    Just then into a stream of blood he drown
    "Welcome darling! I'll take you beyond hell"


  • ps_write 17w

    Catch me if you can

    Can't chain me with your lie
    But oneday I will break free and fly
    Instigate me with your prejudice
    I will surely go to find my inner peace
    Because I never wanna give it a miss
    As I find this is sheer bliss


  • vittoria 17w

    I hope it was worth the read. I'm sorry if it wasn't. I tried maybe my best, I don't know, to bring my imagination on paper. This was my first try on ballad.
    Reference to the city of Nome was fictional. I came across Nome when I was searching for something else on Google.
    If anyone has any issues with the post please let me know.
    Thank you so much for reading this..
    If anyone wants to be untagged please tell me.
    I'm sorry if I couldn't give you a nightmare.

    #mirakee #writersnetwork #readwriteunite #challenge #ballad_dds #candle #pod #wordoftheday #horror #shortstory #haunted_house #old_city #life #writerstolli #memories #ballad #story #horror_story

    Read More

    Home sweet home

    He was no gold lover
    But it was his source of income
    He was an old gold miner
    Watching all those who go and come.

    A sharp-witted wife he had
    Whose devotion he is indebted to
    Garrulous teenage children he had
    Wished to spend time with them too.

    The mine where he worked
    Where he spent more time than with his wife
    Was to be closed
    The mine where he spent majority of his life.

    It was declared
    That old miners will be kept
    Till death will be paid
    But the payment was not adequate.

    Poverty hit
    Children left home
    Happiness drowned bit by bit
    Never to return to City of Nome.

    Decades later
    The mine was re-established
    The adult children received a letter
    To the mine their jobs were transferred.

    Sent a letter to their mother and father
    A word of homecoming
    Of the duo of sister and brother
    At their door memories were knocking.

    It was a cloudy day
    The day they stepped in their home town
    Their parents had come to show the way
    To their house a few lanes down.

    The house was still beautiful
    Everything was still the same
    Where their childhood days were spent blissful
    Their home sweet home.

    There was thundering
    Everything turned upside down
    Thundering followed by lightening
    The duo was now on their own.

    There was an eerie silence
    Below the dusty old family photo
    Hung a picture which said rest in peace
    That clean framed picture had their dead parents photo.

    The house was dark
    They stood facing the wall
    Horror full screams seemed to bark
    With the candle light flickering in the hall.

  • suzannaspo 17w

    Red Bird

    You red bird in the rain
    When I see one I hear your name
    Your ballad of a bird
    Fly away without a word


  • houmaira 17w

    I've never adored the idea of love;

    But even the wind sings ballads of your name now,
    And I can't help but hum along.


  • sabaridevi 17w

    When he flew with ballad
    She dance with his memories


  • shewatabhroi 18w

    An ancient love story (part I)

    An ancient love story rises up the hill,
    the dusky sun brings out the thrill,
    clouds unaware melts the reddish hue,
    green naive grasses, embraced with dew.

    yards apart from a beautiful castle,
    comes down a girl with bright yellow satchel,
    sweet fruits, sweet sweets, for her siblings,
    that she earned by washing her masters' sink.

    walking the broken lanes, in whims of dream,
    passing stepped down huts, colours of cream.
    rumbling of the birds sweeps by her hair.
    wanders the young blonde with least care.

    clouds, now are thicker with black shade,
    her light pink skirt grows more fade,
    little silver drops touches her maiden skin,
    she runs down the alley with hands like fin.

    the whizzing winds unwind her blustery hair,
    grey screaming drops foretells a fear.
    a monstrous fist thumps her to field,
    worried, Daisy wrestles. Nothing, it yields.


  • shivadootimandal 20w


    It's awful, how people define love as a synonym of affection, a feeling thriving upon the leftovers of attention and attachment. Materialistic needs get an upgrade for the survival strategies but love faces degradation on the scale of priority.

    Ultimately, the Ashes of Promises, the Pyre of Acquaintances and the Rough Winds of Fleeting Moments attend the funeral of love in the cemetery of a toxic relationship.


  • mahirsampat_ 20w

    The Tale of Jack;
    The Sharp-Sword Bearer.

    As he opened his eyes one fine morning
    Who did Jack see, if not the King!
    “Oh Majesty,” he said as he solemnly bowed
    “Tell me, how might I do you proud?”

    “Oh Jack,” said the king with a sober brow
    “We need you in this troubling hour,
    “The wall has fallen to the rival
    “We need you urgently, for revival!”

    “Fear not, my King,” said Jack as he stood
    “For I will do as best as I could,
    “ And drive the Enemy back to his house
    Among his own cowardly shouts.”

    So saying brave Jack put on his armour,
    Sheathed his sword with no less glamour
    And while the King and people watched
    Right into battle, Jack had marched.

    He cut a head with his sharp sword
    And another hand with the blood-stained sword
    Until the Enemy fled in terror
    From Jack the Mighty, Sharp-Sword Bearer!

    The King was very pleased with Jack
    For saving the Kingdom with such a smack
    The people too were no less pleased
    And before Jack went on their knees.

    The King gave Jack a bag of gold
    And kissed his hand, lo and behold!
    For had it not been for Jack that day,
    The King would have been the Enemy’s prey!

  • shivadootimandal 20w


    Something is amiss, inside
    the failure to loosen up feelings,
    anguish nibbling down heart
    wreckage at pen's nib, mutiny amongst alphabets
    pretentious ballads failing to come up
    nothing to hide behind the words in the name of allegory,
    the failure to bleed with ink;
    a dilemma for sure

    but isn't that exactly how people spell procrastination?

  • wallflower97 21w


    I admit
    You not being here
    Hurts like hell
    You are a piece of me, my heart
    And I can't let go of you

    Your voice gives me life
    Just what rain does to a parched land
    Your texts vitalises the depths of me
    But your goodbyes
    Breaks me up a little

    I see your face when I shut my eyes
    I feel your warmth even if you're not around
    I crave your touch so
    Cause I love you so
    Cause baby, you belong with me


  • paulwrites 23w

    #writersnetwork #readwriteunite #mirakee #mirakeeworld #poetry #poem #verse #rhyme #fairytale #fantasy #ballad #saga

    Princess Of The Captured Sun

    Long, long ago during a dynasty long forgotten

    lies this tale that I’m about to begin

    about the princess of the captured sun,

    the one they call Fairamena Bryn.

    Now she demanded of her father, the King

    that she would never marry or be bethrothed,

    save to the man who could capture the sun

    and present it before her and the throne.

    Her youthful beauty was legendary even then

    inspiring suitors and charlatans alike,

    who came to the palace in vain attempts

    to capture the sun, try as they might.

    Even Prince Schez-bala with all his fine gifts

    could not meet the Fairamena’s demands,

    and the sun herself stayed in the sky

    to shine down upon the mountains and land.

    There came a King from a land unheard about

    and he tried his very best to succeed,

    but alas there was no way to capture the sun

    so he left to marry another, I believe.

    A soothsayer came with a grandiose prediction

    of how he would win Fairamena’s love,

    but she replied, “not until you bring me the sun

    or capture it from the skies above.”

    They came and they came, until all men had lost

    and none had achieved the prize

    of being the one to marry the cute Princess

    with the dark, almost almond eyes.

    Her father, the King, with grim disappointment

    was distressed and much sadly declared,

    “my daughter, your demands seem way too great,

    no one can snatch the sun from the air.”

    But the Princess replied, “I’m sorry father

    but I can’t give my heart away to just anyone,

    for I have guarded it safely all of these years

    so that it too may shine as the sun.

    and the man who can capture the sun herself

    in all her bright and stunning love,

    is the only man who can hold my heart near

    and be the one that I have dreamed of.”

    “But they have come from far and wide”, said the King

    “and it’s impossible to do what you ask,

    they’ve tried and they’ve tried, some foolishly

    but there’s no way to perform such a task.”

    The Princess smiled because she knew somewhere

    there was a man who could do this thing,

    and she just would not settle for anything less

    if her heart were to smile and sing.

    Then one fateful day another suitor came calling

    from the village of The Princess Bryn’s birth,

    and he came bearing gifts with many good wishes

    that he’d dug from the very earth.

    He’d made pretty bracelets and sparkly anklets

    to present to the princess with love,

    and he told everyone he met along the way

    that he could give her the very sun above.

    So brought before the King and the whole court

    the man announced, “I am Shakir-badhrou,

    I’ve come for the hand of the fair princess

    no matter what it is that I must do.”

    “But you’re a peasant, not close to royalty”,

    the King uttered in his most regal style,

    “we know you, you used to make trinkets

    of colored glass for the princess as a child.’

    ‘It will take much more than colored glass baubles

    to impress us to give you her hand,

    but if you can manage to capture the sun

    then I’ve no choice but to declare you her man.”

    Shakir smiled, “true, I am but a glassmaker

    but love has impressed upon my heart

    to stand before the sweet princess here today

    with all my soul to impart…”

    But the King Interrupted, “enough of these words,

    can you do what the princess requires?”

    Shakir replied, “I will catch the sun for love

    and then show you a beauty even higher.”

    They all stepped in the courtyard to watch his attempt

    he showed them pieces of pretty painted glass,

    until he produced one that was seemingly clear

    “Now I will do what you have asked.”

    He held out the glass and he captured the sun

    within its reflective surface to shine,

    “gaze upon this glass where I’ve caught it real

    and for a moment it is yours and mine.”

    All were astounded for there was the sun

    in this piece of glass the peasant had brought

    “when you want the sun, just use this glass

    as long as it shines, it is caught.”

    The court then applauded and the king was surprised

    but the princess she gleefully smiled

    as if some plan within her heart had worked out

    though it had taken quite a little while.

    Shakir said, “now behold… beauty herself

    much greater than the shining sun”

    and he held the glass to Fairamena’s face

    “look, there is the most loveliest one.”

    And in the glass the Princess saw her reflection

    smiling back and fallen in love,

    “This man”, she said, “he will be my husband

    for he has captured the very sun from above.”

    Shakir smiled at his pretty soon-to-be bride

    and kneeled close for only her to hear

    “my love, finally we no longer will meet in secret

    but instead will forever be near.”

    “I could never, ever marry anyone but you”

    she whispered, “this plan was the only way

    to ensure that you and I would be together

    instead of Father selecting someone for me someday.”

    But the King and the court didn’t hear these things

    it was declared, “Shakir’s the one!”

    and love beamed proudly from the sweet face

    of the Princess of the captured sun.

    And so is the case in tales such as these

    that we sometimes hate to see the story end

    but as we go back to our own little lives

    theirs really only starts to begin.

    and let me just say as a moral to learn

    that if you’re dreaming of romance today

    no matter how impossible it may seem to be

    love will always find her way…

    Poem by Paul D Aronson.

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    Princess of the Captured Sun

    A fairy tale in verse

  • paulwrites 23w

    #letter #correspondence #war #wartime #ww2 #poem #poetry #verse #ballad #thepoetrycommunity #writersnetwork #poetsofmirakee #poets #rhymingverse

    “Dear Miss Sarah Lynne”

    Dear Miss Sarah Lynne

    I hope this letter finds you well,

    Sometimes it’s not easy to write

    As I’m sure you can tell;

    I hope mom and dad are doing fine

    And the farm is coming along,

    The thought of it makes me think of home

    Or a sweet old country song.

    How’s little Steffie’s braces fit?

    Tell her don’t worry they’ll come off soon,

    And all the boys will notice her

    As if she’s the only girl in the room;

    I imagine it must be summertime

    The nights here are pretty cold,

    And sometimes the fellas just sit around

    Wishing for someone to hold.

    Did daddy’s crops come in good this year?

    How’s mama coming with that quilt?

    Is grandpa still tinkering on that car

    The one he swore up and down he built?

    And how are you doing Sarah?

    I’ve been looking at your picture for days,

    As the bombs go off all around me

    I sometimes wish myself away.

    I know that I’ve never met you

    And it’s possible that I never will,

    But when I imagine you’re my girlfriend

    It helps me out here in the fields;

    I don’t know how to tell you this

    But I guess the truth is best,

    I haven’t much words of comfort

    Except to say he loved you best.

    Dear Miss Sarah Lynne

    I regret to inform you this way,

    But your brother died in battle

    And he was buried here yesterday;

    He gave me your picture

    And asked me to take the time to write,

    In his last moments he told me all about his kin

    And the fading of the light.

    I’m so very sorry for your loss

    I wish there was more I could say,

    But I’m only a farm boy myself

    Just trying to get through each day;

    I was wondering if I make it through this

    If it would be okay to come and call,

    By then this picture may be long faded

    But I won’t forget your face at all.

    I guess I should be going now

    Soon we’ll be shipping out again,

    But I just wanted you to know

    Your brother was a hero unto the end;

    Please pray for me and the other guys

    Sometimes out here we feel so alone,

    For we’re all someone’s sons and brothers

    Just dreaming of that place called home.

    By Paul D Aronson

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    Dear Miss Sarah Lynne

  • virtualsapien 23w

    A Ballad for Space Scorpions

    Why don't you and me
    Leave together why don't we?
    For the moons and distant stars
    To the galaxies beyond ours.

    Why do still we bother though?
    We are way past the space bureau,
    Speed up to light and hit those holes
    We will build the hovel in parallel globes.

    Where do all these highways lead?
    Are we lost in Space with negative speed!
    Open the portals, wrap up the time
    Kiss me darling before we turn to grime.

    How did all this turn so sour?
    Didn't we dump all that was dour?
    Forever the remnants of our odyssey will float
    Through fabric of space and dimensions remote.


  • abdulmussavir2 25w


    When I yelled 'I hate you',
    It was my love that executed.
    You were my flower but the aroma,
    The colour was hateful though.
    My cries were loyal for you,
    Sorry! it was hate that loved you.
    You were my existence but soul,
    The vent was vexatious though.

    Per my ballad you look hated,
    But no one knoweth what hate is!
    What was hate?
    Love that made me covetous.
    You reside in my soft heart,
    The heart that is devoted,
    Cannot bear seeing you out.

    No! Hate is not hate! A fruit,
    But the kernels inside it,
    Ah! The hate is there.
    The hate is spotting you:
    Out without me; not paying,
    Tabbing me; ignoring and going,
    Spotting you gawking someone.

    It is all my aunt if I am frenzied,
    But how about you?
    It is the hate there...
    Pricking me deep upto my veins,
    Veins of blood where;
    Where your relics are ample.

    I don't have any, sorry!
    As to be curt, I hate you;
    And precise, I love you;
    And with luck, I have you,
    Hating and loving had me having.
    There's is where you live;
    Deep indoors, in my heart,
    Having locked yourself inside,
    Letting none advance.
    ©Abdul Mussavir

  • faiza_wani 26w

    This heart
    Still dances to the ballad,
    Your eyes sang.


  • paulwrites 26w

    #fairytale #fantasy #aliceinwonderland #poem #poetry #ballad #verse #wonderlandisdying

    Wonderland Is Dying
    Stanza 1.1

    Alice looked at the poisoned apple
    thinking I must be in the wrong fairy tale
    There are no witches in wonderland,
    Only strangeness where the white queen fell.

    *inspired by Alice In Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.*

    *Throw a like on here or share it if you'd like me to add more to this. Thanks *

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    Wonderland Is Dying

    Alice looked at the poisoned apple
    thinking I must be in the wrong fairy tale
    There are no witches in wonderland,
    Only strangeness where the white queen fell.


  • nikitajuneja 27w

    Unfinished Lovestory

    Once there lived a silly girl,
    With sparkling eyes and pretty curls!
    Her smile, used to lit the whole world bright,
    But she always doubted, whether she's wrong or right?

    Then came a boy, with brownish-black eyes,
    On whom, that girl dies.
    He came into her life, like a shooting star,
    And took her away from this world, so far!

    They both spend awesome time time, being together,
    But, soon there was a change in the weather!
    A change that haven't took place in their life before,
    There was mist and fog, in their life, as on the shore.

    The girl confessed what she felt,
    But, this statement was difficult to be dealt!
    The boy unaware, that she was serious,
    Stood least curious!

    The girl painted pictures on her mind,
    Because she thought that the boy was kind.
    She was totally in love with him,
    He seemed to be her only vision, when the light was dim.

    But soon the girl came to know,
    That the boy was not exactly as he show.
    She tried to ask,
    But, that was not at all an easy task.

    Alas! Finally her end was near,
    The heart of girl, was full of fear.
    She never uttered a word again,
    And went far away, leaving everyone in pain!

    Had she known, that he loved her too,
    She would have never urged herself to do so!
    But, death is an inevitable end,
    No one can cease it, not even a best friend!

  • bankachaand 28w

    He was special.
    Not in an exceptional way.

    But maybe, just how
    He could make the mundane
    Seem a wonder, again & again.
    Like the simple way,
    A rising Sun- that makes you
    Leave the bed, charmed
    And enlivened.
    Or like a cloudless night, that
    Calms your soul,
    And stops time mid spillage.

    He was magic! The way, he could
    Make you believe in yourself, again..