317 posts
  • theneverendingstory 1d

    Nature's Daughter

    Here am I, as I arise from the brimming river
    Not having any idea of who I am, what I need to do or what's even my purpose.
    As I grow up, I make friends with birds and animals.
    The earthy smell of the soil and fresh raindrops, I knew I belonged here.

    As she laid on the grassy ground, watching the forest canopy through her sparkly eyes.
    She wandered throughout the forest with her furry friends and never was worried because she knew she was at her HOME.

    The nature protected her throughout and made her smile more enchanting.


  • differentgirl 1d


    On seeing her daughter footprints in her husband house.

    "Her first footprints are still imprinted on my heart" Father said


  • mansi_wad 1d


    Though I am just a student I still have many thoughts...my poem is not only about my daughter but how our daughters should be...!

    Read More

    My Daughter

    For all the stories my daughter shall hear
    There will not be sweet little princesses admired for their beauty
    And waiting for their prince
    But strong queens as warrior.

    She will not need a hero
    She will herself become one
    Her prayers will move mountains
    And she will never need anyone.

    I will teach her to fight back
    Including her tears
    She will always be strong
    Despite the fear.

    She will have every quality I wished for
    And every quality I never had
    I will be her best friend and she will tell me her secrets.

    She will understand me more than anyone else.
    She will hide her pain behind her smile
    And she will never show her expressions
    Even if her heart swells.

    I will teach her how to protect herself
    From those who will try to tear her body apart
    Alone,by herself, she will build a kingdom she wants.

    I will never stop her from playing with dirt
    I will never tell her that girls only wear skirts.
    I will tell her what the whistling calls all mean
    The world is so cruel for my sweet little queen.

    She will be wild and difficult to forget
    She will not be a flower plucked to die
    Her courage will be her crown
    And for inspiration,
    She will look up to the sky.

    That will be her magic
    She will still shine brightest in the dark
    She will always be strong
    And will belong to the stars.


  • div_penn 1d


    I don't see what you see
    I don't see the sky, blue
    I don't find oceans in my eyes
    When it's mirror, I look into

    "But my love, that's where
    You are wrong.
    See yourself through my eyes
    And you will find the colours
    Hiding underneath these
    Dark skies.
    I see you warm soul
    And that bright light
    I see a wonderful girl
    Whom I gave birth to
    And who makes my sun rise."


  • sherilda 2d

    "Daddy is that the girl your first crush, the one that swept your heart away ?" my son asked .
    Astounded by his guess and the accuracy
    I asked "How did you find it was her?"
    With wide grin he replied " Her Daughter seems to have taken my heart too ."


  • beyondmedkraft 2d

    He builds her up,and pushes her towards
    her dreams and goals
    He holds on to her love and not the
    mistakes she make in her life
    He is eager to set sail on the
    expanse of her mind
    When she look at him her heart makes her believe that,no matter what
    he will always stand for her and with her.


  • jennyparthy 3d

    I will,
    Keep growing,
    With all your strength and love etched on me.

    I may not,
    Remember the taste of your milk,
    I shall never forget how much you lost yourself,
    To make me the best.

    With all your sacrifices and memories etched on me,
    Dearest Mother,
    I will,
    Keep growing,
    Forever, till this universe is non-existent.

    For a part of your soul is always etched deep in mine!


  • being_ash 3d

    Super mom

    Aunty: Hey, your daughter is always talking to that guy. Be careful.
    Mom: Yeah. She is going to elope with him today.
    Aunty: What??
    Mom: I know my daughter well and I trust her. So don't ever dare to talk to me like this.

    India doesn't need batman and wonder woman. They are already in our houses!!

  • mkandres 1w

    Burial Plot

    Being the daughter of a real estate mogul sure had perks. As I pumped gasoline into my shiny red sports car I grinned with glee. Daddy had made some lucrative investments recently and they thank the Lord above, trickled down to me. I was fortunate to reap those benefits. Or, perhaps, deserving was a better word.

    Placing my stiletto heel on the back bumper, a groan escaped my delicate white throat. "Damn, run," I had complained. My sheer black stockings were ruined. Catching a glimpse of myself in the vehicle's rear view mirror, I tossed my long blonde hair to the side and admired my porcelain-doll features. I was gorgeous. The boys at Bridge Academy were going to love me, but I was looking for a man, not a child.

    "Oh, baby," I heard him exclaim. "Look at her." The long, low whistle that I had grown accustomed to quickly followed.

    "Mmmm, let's go check out the goods," another male voice had replied with a not-so-suttle guttural laugh.

    I had grinned, giddy from the attention, enjoying the playful turn on.

    Replacing the gas nozzle into its receptacle, I turned to find two older men, much older compared to my seventeen years, rushing toward me. Looking back, I'm not quite sure how or why I thought they were older, just women's intuition, I suppose.

    They were moving fast. Much too fast. Both were wearing black clothing; pants, long-sleeved shirts and ski masks.

    Ski masks? In August? In Texas?

    "What in the world?" I remembered screaming vividly as one of the men hit me upside my left temple with his tightly-balled paw of a hand.

    "Sweet Daddy will pay what he owes when he finds out we have his little girl," the second man's lisping spittle landed across my tight cheekbones as the parking lot shimmered, swayed and went dark.


    Stifling heat. I could feel my skin prickle, almost squeezing my insides as a boa constrictor would squeeze its prey. Perspiration poured down my face, neck and chest. I couldn't see it. I just knew. I couldn't see a thing. Nothing. Pitch black enveloped me; threatening to take over my mind, heart and soul. The aching throb in my temple was becoming louder and louder, filling the obviously small space in which I lay.

    Shaking my head slightly from side to side, I tried to clear my foggy brain and thoughts. What had those men done to me? Why? Why me? Every fiber of my being told me this was no random act of violence.

    Neck muscles straining, I lifted my shoulders and head just a fraction of an inch. My nose touched the top of my enclosed Hell. I pushed and pushed and pushed. I began to scrape and scratch. Pain radiated down both wrists and traveled through to my elbows as three long fingernails tore off into the quick. I could feel tiny splinters embedding themselves into the fleshy parts of my hands, like a rabid dog ripping me apart.

    Tears rolled. I knew I must look hideous, mascara staining my pretty face. Oh what a sight to behold!

    I needed light so I could see myself. I was expected at Bridge Academy in the morning.

    My stomach began to growl. How long since I had eaten? How long had I been here? Short puffs of breath came faster and faster. The air seemed thick; rancid.

    I tried to slow my breathing; think rationally. My mother had always been good at that, thinking rationally. It had never been my strong suit, nor Daddy's. We had been lost without her after she died. Lost, until Daddy had become a financial success.

    Mother's patient, yet sweet urgings made Daddy the man he was today, in my opinion. Whenever Daddy had something on his mind, he would run it by her. If she felt his latest project had merit, she would say, 'Do or die.' I laughed aloud now at that expression but felt Mother's sweet urgings from the grave. My grave.

    I still needed some source of light. I tried to straighten my legs a bit to kick out the end of the wooden box but all attempts failed. My body was becoming weaker, the air more sparse.

    I coughed, my chest heaving with spasms. God, I could go for a cigarette right about now! Wait! I am so glad I never gave up smoking! I had heard all the lectures about how smoking is bad for your health but, Hell, being buried alive is pretty damn bad for your health too.

    Fishing through my skirt pockets, I clutched my chrome cigarette lighter in shaking hands. Flicking the striker with my thumb, a faint blue spark filled the rectangular wooden box for a minute instance.

    I flicked again. And again. And again.

    "C'mon, dammit!" I screamed. "Come on!" I clutched the object tightly in one hand, took a deep breath and flicked the striker once more. I almost dropped it in my excitement as the flame caught and held.

    The small sliver of fire seemed almost mystical as beautiful oranges, reds, blues and even greens danced in my hand. I had never seen such a brilliant display. I was on the verge of a hypnotic trance.

    'Do or die,' I heard my Mother's voice reverberate off the wooden walls. 'Do or die.'

    Flinging an elbow over my nostrils, I held the small silver lighter to the spot I had clawed at earlier. Patience was a virtue, I had heard someone say once. Now I fully understood what that meant.

    After an eternity, or just a few minutes, I did not know which, I could see, hear and actually taste the wood burning. The small circle was becoming larger and larger as the fire darkened, changing the wood's integrity. I began to cough and gag as smoke slowly filled my lungs.

    Then, it hit me. Excruciating pain. An iron grip squeezed my lower right calf and would not let go. A Charlie horse. The cramp lasted several moments. I gasped, coughed and writhed in agony. Unable to contort my body in directions it needed for comfort, I bit my lip and prayed. Salty blood covered my tongue. My stomach gurgled in protest.

    "Don't throw up. Don't throw up," I commanded myself. I willed my stomach to settle and continued on with my task.

    I was perspiring again, this time more profusely. As I wiped damp hair from my stinging eyes, the cigarette lighter slid through my fingers, falling with a THUD that echoed through my coffin.

    I cried.

    I sobbed.

    I thrashed about like a temper-tantrum-throwing two-year-old. I couldn't do this. I wasn't made to handle situations like this. I took another deep breath and punched my fist at the wood in raw, deep, hatred. Hatred at Mother for leaving me to handle this alone, hatred at myself for not being stronger and hatred at the two men who had caused this entire mess, obviously due to a case of mistaken identity.

    I punched and punched and punched. The wood gave way beneath the force of my knuckles and, unbeknownst to me at the time, more than lumber was cracking and breaking. Adrenaline began to flow as did deep, dark soil.

    I was able to maneuver my face from the dust and grime that ensued but panic clutched my throat with cold, steely fingers. Had I done the wrong thing? Should I have done something differently? It was pathetically too late now. Dirt was flowing fast and furious.


    The next coherent memory I had was walking down Tolley Lane. A car horn was honking.

    "Get off the street, lady!" a man was yelling. "You homeless people need to get a job!"

    Homeless? I wasn't homeless. I was going to Bridge Academy, the private school for the well-to-do, the brightest and the best.

    Reaching my hand up to smooth my hair, I found it tangled and caked with blood and dirt. My skirt was tattered and torn. My legs scratched and bleeding.

    Everything came flooding back to me. The gas station, the men in ski masks, the one with the lisp saying, 'Sweet Daddy will pay what he owes ...' And the grave; that horrible burial plot.

    I turned onto Harner Avenue, where Daddy and I had lived for the past six years. We had moved in shortly after Mother's death. A fresh start, he had said.

    As I approached the house, I noticed my little red sports car in the driveway. I was confused but I just wanted to be inside, to take a hot shower and to call the police.

    As I quietly opened the front door, I heard my father's voice.

    "You did well, Maurice," he was saying. "No one will suspect that I was the one who plotted and planned this. The life insurance papers will be in the mail tomorrow morning; I can pay off those drug goons, and you, of course, and still have enough money left over to move to the Caymans." He chuckled easily; happily.

    "Oh, yes, no more paying for expensive cars, clothes or schools. I can spend my money on the one who counts the most. Me!"

    I listened as sadness filled my chest. Daddy? Daddy was behind this?

    I heard a long exasperated sigh. "Yes, trust me will you? I told you, I got away with it six years ago when I killed her mother Julie. No one's ever pointed a finger in my direction."

    I looked around the foyer for a weapon; anything. Emotions overwhelmed me. Shock, disgust, sadness, betrayal. I cannot begin to describe the depth of my heartache. How could I face this man? No, this monster!

    Atop a stack of car magazines on the side table sat my cell phone. Pink case, bling-bling up and down the sides. Forget cars, clothes, hair and bling. All I cared about now was justice.

    'Do or die, baby,' my Mother's spirit urged as I dialed 9-1-1.


  • tumaku 1w

    in the roles of a
    son - brother - father

    guards • shares • loves • cares
    fights • cries • smiles
    destroys • builds • survives
    • holds together •
    ° stays °
    till his last breath

  • aquinas 1w


    If she had loved him,
    If she had did something
    Impossible for him,
    If she had never gave him up,
    If she had missed him
    Even for minutes,
    I'd be proud for her....


  • nuraizz 1w


    Even though I'm not your dearest daughter, I'm grateful that I can have a share of your love and have been given the chance to repay it.

  • glyra30 1w


    She is altogether beautiful but not in a superficial way
    She has beautiful hands for she uses it to nurture, help and mend
    She has beautiful lips for she speaks in kindness, wisdom and grace
    She has beautiful feet for she goes to places of darkness and brings the light
    She has beautiful eyes for she sees the goodness and beauty in others
    She has a beautiful body for she bore four babies and mothered them
    She has a beautiful spirit for she never gives up no matter what life throws at her
    She has a beautiful heart for she loves recklessly and unconditionaly
    Her wrinkles, wounds and scars speak of her life battles,
    Her grey hair speak of her wisdom,
    She is a woman, a daughter, a wife, a friend, and most of all she is a mother

  • unknown_feelings_quotes 1w

    Women's day special

    The person who knows how to walk with everyone.
    The person who finds happiness in others happiness.
    The same person is a Mother, Daughter, Sister..
    Happy women's day


  • roshannay 1w


    In every form she takes,
    She brings the happiness home!
    When she is a daughter,
    She brings joy in that form...
    When she is a sister,
    Her mischiefs color up the dull life...
    She brings the peace and love,
    And many unspeakable emotions to your heart,
    When she becomes a wife...
    And when she carries a life inside her,
    And almost dies when she gives birth!
    That's when heaven is replaced beneath her feet,
    Instead of the earth...
    So when they ask you to define a woman,
    Just answer them and smile...
    She is a myriad of forms and emotions,
    Being phenomenal is her style...

  • falak_observation 1w

    You brought me here
    Nourished me with love and care
    Taught me every truth and dare
    Mother i found you always there
    Someone like you helped me again
    She just took away all my pain
    She taught me the lessons of life
    Yes she ... Who is my future wife
    Some day i will have a girl
    I will care her like a diamond pearl
    Will guide her for what is best
    Will give her company in all her worst
    O women you gave me life you made my life
    You made me shine brighter than bright
    Thanku for being always at my side


  • raghuvamsi 1w

    In the world full of predators,she becomes a prey but still she manages to fulfil the duties of being a mother to her son,wife to her husband,daughter to her parents,sister to her siblings,aunt to her nephew, every relationship she is given to do and she is 'WOMAN'
    Happy woman's day,stay strong don't let any predator try to make you it's prey,instead you make it your prey and become the predator cause you deserve it and own it

    @mirakeeworld @mirakee @instagram @writersnetwork @readwriteunite

    Read More

    More than 20 family
    relationships and one
    person carries them on
    her shoulders and she is
    a 'WOMAN'

    (Read the caption)



  • a_merciful_friend 1w

    With so many emotions in this kind of HUMAN,

    Sometimes for herself and sometimes for others, she lives her JEEVAN(life),

    For them there is no place like hell, there is only HEAVEN,

    Sometimes for them, sacrifice of dreams, love and even whole life don't bother EVEN,

    These 4 lines are anytime less to say about them, those are here GIVEN,

    To all mothers, daughters, sisters, and all the ladies of this world, a very happy day of WOMAN

    Written By: 'Dost(Friend)' urf Ankit Mehta


  • emyflorencemoses_ 1w

    Frailty and fear,
    A lot to make her scared,
    Wanting to disappear,
    Oh she was so not prepared!

    With a smile on His face,
    With arms so full of grace,
    With love so big and base,
    With power more than any ace,

    Here comes her hero,
    Her Father, His embrace,
    In Him she's more than a conqueror,
    No man can face!

  • iaminqualabi 1w

    Women's Day

    Women are like mystery, saturated with sweetness of rose fragrance and flowers nectar,
    Be, live and thrive, because without you, women, the beauty and wisdom of the world will fade.