228 posts
  • pacifierpunch 1d

    Not every morning is brimming with sunshine
    Not every night is overwhelmed with moonshine.

    The perception and perspective often changes, as situations turnaround.

    Indeed, the day and night too are mere interpretations of what eye chooses to see, but heart sometimes disagrees to comply with.


  • tanejasupriya 4d



  • souravbose1990 5d


    No matter however strong
    You pretend you are
    You’re very vulnerable inside

  • aseyah 1w

    Sometimes you just need to let the darkness in.

    There is much talk about fighting depression, but few speak of what the pits of darkness can benefit.

    It is often said, 'to be a good writer you need to be able to ever the darkest places of the soul'. When you are constantly fighting against the darkness you are not allowing yourself the benefit of exploring this often hidden world.

    Next time your soul is crying stop and listen to it. You may find a world of alternate perspectives.

    ©aseyah Shipman

  • ct_and_skylines 1w

    The Morning after (all)

    Those black smudgy smears beneath the curve of her eyelashes, along those gentle fine lines. They accent her gaze whenever she locks me within hers; my enchantress.

    It was the morning after.
    She reels me in her deliciously scented wake of eqyptian cotton comfort; ill never understand how she's managed that night after night.

    I think she does that shit on purpose.

    I love her, I always will.
    Its harder to be here; to watch her affection
    dissipate and be present at once.

    Help her heal,
    while I'm tearing apart.


  • ct_and_skylines 1w

    The Morning after (all)

    Black smudgy smears beneath the curve of eyelashes, along those fine lines.
    They accent her gaze when locked on my eyes.

    It was the morning, after all.
    She reels me in her bundle of eqyptian cotton sheets that she takes during our sleep.

    I loved her, I always did.
    Its harder to be here; to lose her and be present at once.

    Help her heal, while I'm tearing apart.


  • sl1m_sh8dy 2w

    No one will ever see the world through your eyes

  • creative_logophile 2w

    Both the characters belong to the wonderful writer Jo, am just a fan using 'em as an example to prove my point.
    @another_logophile how z'it?
    #perspective #perspectivematters #harry_potter #harrypotter #potterhead #writersnetwork #hogwarts #pod

    Read More

    Perspective Matters!

    Once their was a boy living in an orphanage away from his parents and never got any sort of affection.
    Another time, their was another boy who lived away from parents and he also never got any affection from anyone.
    At the age of eleven, both escaped from their hell-like residents and found home in their boarding school.
    Boy1 was charming, handsome and a favourite of his professors. Everyone wanted to be friends with him.
    Boy2 wasn't so good-looking, but he was very famous and everyone wanted to be friends with him.
    Both the boys were wizards, and boy2 was raised by non-magical people who had mistreated him all his life.
    Boy1's father was non-magical and because his father had abandoned his mother, he grew up in an orphanage.
    Boy1 grew up to hate non-magical people and those wizards whose both parents weren't magic. He destroyed them and was always hungry for power and immortality. Also, he never had any friends and treated everyone as an inferior. The only person he loved was himself.
    Boy2 realised not all non-magic people are bad. He had the responsibility of saving the world and he gave his best. He was ready to walk to his death if that could save the world.

    Boy1 was Voldemort and Boy2 was Harry Potter.
    Rightly said, perspective matters!


  • redocrejoker 2w

    Butterflies cannot float,
    They're blown around.
    & If a bee stings,
    They die on the ground.
    Don't get knocked out,
    In the first round.


  • hellhound_poetry 2w

    #poem #poerty #dark #perspective #writersnetwork #readwriteunite
    Another collaboration with the wonderful @comical_error;
    Your encouragement has been amazing!! I've never seen you in the flesh but you truly are a great friend of mine!! Thank you!! ������

    Read More

    Dark Perspective

    I walk with monsters behind me the weight of the universe on my back.
    Suffocation as I'm spinning into a hole of black.
    They hold me like a mut in chains of ghosts and horrors.
    A day with these is like eternity they don't believe in tomorrows.

    Walking with my demons they granted me one wish.
    Before they threw my carcass into the pits of Tartarus.
    with chains around the wrist I've been through this before.
    But my scars still bleed, damaged at the core..

    My eyes see nothing but the darkness of the abyss.
    Shreds of skin being peeled away I don't deserve this.
    I am now demoniacal just a human frame. Now the monsters have caught me I have to play their game.

    I found a girl on the outter edge of darkness.
    Playing with her monsters I wondered, who was this.
    So I walked on by and I made my final wish.
    I wanted to see her grow, from what she knows, the abyss..

    She was confused and perhaps relieved as she felt a wish fly her way.
    Without a blink her green eyes stare as she said "these are my friends would you like to play?"
    She didn't need saving she was an Angel that had fell.
    She chose this life she chose to stay with her demons in hell.

    I heard an echo of a voice asking if I'd like to play.
    To which in responce, well, I didnt know what to say.
    So with remorse I hung my head and a made a vow of which to hell.
    I will not vacate.
    Because there will be days the darkness will be to heavy to be worn, as a cape..

  • simplyademola 2w

    Half full, half empty,
    Optimist, realist.
    Like the different faces of the talking drum,
    So are our perception about life.

    The selfish and the selfless,
    The faithful and the faithless,
    Perceptions influence choices,
    Your choices define you.

    What's your perspective?...


  • magic_in_words 3w


    It was midnight.
    She knew.
    The clock struck twelve
    Undoing the spell.

    All night she danced and danced
    With that handsome man
    Prince. Rich. Gentleman.
    She had not come for romance
    Just a day off that is all.

    All she wanted was a break.
    But time was up
    The clock hand said so
    She liked that evening

    Her blue silk dress
    A pool of soft, tight around her body
    A pretty woman. In a pretty gown
    Her hair, usually a tangle of blonde unkept
    Now a bun with pretty fringes dangling down
    A new pair of earrings, sparkle and shimmer as she twirls
    A new set of shoes. She saw glass ones but liked the blue ballet ones better.

    She liked it.
    At home she swirled and twirled
    And saw difference.
    Difference from usual, tight jeans, baggy t-shirts and sneakers.

    It was a transformation.
    But of course she loved the original much much more.
    So she ran.
    The clock struck twelve.
    The dress got too tight for comfort.
    The handsome man checking out her cleavage
    The almost tripping on too much skirt incidents
    The earrings too sparkly
    The sneakers being missed.

    So she left, the man wanting more.
    Wanting not only dance but to make love
    Chased her.
    But she did not turn back.
    The beads of sweat dropped like snow from forehead melting on her breasts.
    She ran till she reached home.

    Ripped off the now drenched dress from her near suffocated body
    Intricate lace brassiere tossed out
    Red marks on feet massaged
    Make up removed
    Earrings returned to velvet cushion

    She in panties and slip
    Comfort. Finally.
    Me. Finally.
    Took out a book from the over flowing magic filled book shelf.
    It was Cinderella.
    Her assignment due tomorrow.
    So night lamp on. Laptop open.
    She began to read. And ripped the pages apart in her words.


  • magic_in_words 3w


    Hello there.
    My name is Julius.
    Yes. Yes it is Julius,
    And yes, yes I am aware of the 'girlish' tone it contains.
    And the reference to the Roman King.
    To be honest, I quite like my name, and the references it pulls up in people's minds.

    But that is not the issue today.
    I would like to present a case.
    Or rather, narrate an incident.

    We live together.
    Cassius, Brutus, Mark and I.
    Two reporters, one lecturer and one painter.
    Odd pair we are.
    But we lived and shared and lived together.

    It was quite a peaceful life.
    Except when that happened.
    One wonderful day, on the way from work.
    Discovered a new brand of chocolate pudding I.
    Relished it. Bought more. Ate more.
    It became my favorite dessert.
    I stocked the fridge with that delicious piece of heaven.

    All was well.
    Till they started to disappear.
    Oh, the horror.
    One by one. My little angles of delight
    Small small cups of gooey bliss
    Began to disappear.
    Yes, that is right.
    There was a thief amongst us.

    I was a sad mess.
    The loss affecting me all the while.
    Mark tried to lighten the mood.
    Went into his famous speech mode
    'Friends, Romans, Country men..'
    He started. I never heard him finish.

    But it gave me hope. New hope.
    I was determined to know.
    So trap I set.
    Camera I bought.
    Middle of the night, like thief to catch a thief.
    Waited in silence and darkness.

    I knew the camera would do the work for me.
    But I had to know the traitor.
    See him in action.
    Dark figure came.
    Illuminated by fridge light I saw.
    That rat Cassius!
    I knew a man who writes restaurant reviews would be up to no good!

    Confrontation happened.
    Ah ha! I said.
    Oh no! He said.
    Joy at saving my beautiful boxes of pudding
    Rendered me almost blind to the other dark figure approaching.

    Revelation came.
    And all I could utter was a gasp and,
    'Et, Tu Brutus?'


  • magic_in_words 3w

    The Relationship

    Blog post 10#

    It has been a week.
    My eyes chase him everywhere.
    Cute boy. Dark skin. Black eyes that reflect flecks of sun.
    He was the only African-American on campus.
    Attracts a lot of attention that one.

    We met by accident. Then by chance. Then thanks to fate.
    We went on date after date.
    It was fun. He was fun.
    There were kisses. Light touches. Friendly brushes.

    Laughter. Jealousy. Fights. Make ups.
    It was love.
    Till he started to act strange.
    He would get angry when another male near.
    He would get annoyed at ringtones and texts I receive
    Whether he present or not.

    He would have secret talks with this new friend of his.
    This boy that looks at us with disgust.
    I do not understand why my black prince is oblivious to this.
    He has trust written all over his face in front of this boy.
    And suspicion exchange when he gazes at me.

    It is tiring.
    I am not his wife or mother.
    I need not tolerate this. Or put up with this.
    I am my own woman. I can have my own opinions. My own life apart from him.

    He fought with me today.
    Jealous rage he was.
    I did not understand what had happened.
    He said 'handkerchief' 'Cassio' 'cheating'
    I do not understand this man.

    Where did the conversations, jokes, opinions, comfort go?
    Did all that affection, care, concern and fun
    Melt under some mere words of that strange boy?

    Anger boiled. Defense I put up.
    His rage seen. Slap I got.
    Lost control. I kicked him. Kicked him in his fuckin jewels. And ran.

    I ran.
    Tears dripped.
    I liked this one.
    But too much. Too much.

    Locked my room. Took a shower. Picked up the book for tomorrow's class.
    It was Othello.
    All I could think was,
    'Now, ain't she a tragic heroine?'


  • choisya 3w

    "The universe doesn't owe you anything." - a friend

  • redocrejoker 3w

    Tortured is the man who cries,
    Bound & held by shackles.
    Damned is the man who hears,
    Yet only shrugs & cackles.


  • afterthoughts_lagan 4w

    Of that which exists
    what truly persists
    and through whose lips
    do we hear true wisdom

    upon which interpretation
    do we base our foundation
    for what's true to me
    to you, may be filled with fallacy
    for who are we to define
    that which transcends both space and time

    those things we may never know
    yet to wonder means only to grow
    to expand the borders of the mind
    to learn the lessons of human kind
    and in the end, simply to live
    and our lack of insight forgive...


  • lukejr 4w

    Her Silence In The Night

    I'd look outside my own shell to find a purpose for existing. Amongst my friends, She has the diamond pearl earings. Her quiet nature crept up on me in the night. Her eyes being the main feature that captivated my vision. Her long hair betraying the motion of the living. All I now see are stars, a sacred moon with a night sky watching over us as the lights shut off. Our souls now connected with a slow yet steady rythm between each other.


  • lukejr 4w

    Our Subtlety Countdown

    His eyes glued together no longer the form of a species. Little hands held out for something to grasp. Our heart starts beating from the very moment we develop. Its not until we reach teenage years to find out the sad truth. We are all dying, How does that make you feel?

  • lukejr 4w

    Death Is Our Second Chance

    Whether its Life itself that feels fake or just the Reality we believe exists; Death is our system shutting down as everything is deleted. Our memories fade almost like we are born again with no memory. Death is our Second Chance to live in a fucked up world.