someone_alive

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See y'all after exams, tata! @manasaa we love you❤️

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  • someone_alive 1w

    21st February.
    3 p.m.

    Dear Dairy,

    On this Sun-day connoted with last brisk February winds, I again wonder my ancient wonders.

    When I was 9, my father for the first time recited me poems of Robert Frost, and my mother made me discover paintings of Vincent Van Gogh. Since then, I always thought:
    Don't the words hold secret colours, which when read daub paintings in void minds? A painter's hands are filled with hues which create a different abstract on their own prevailed by none but a painter, and so are the words, when written leave scribbles of unwritten lost words in minds which when crooned together, are a muse on their own, that a writer knows, none else. Both Writings and Paintings are blended in depth of graces and ingenuity, sometimes even remaining unfathomed. They don't differentiate much, do they? And this question stretched till forever— unheard, unanswered.
    At the age of 10,
    As I grew with both pen marks splintered from metaphors admiring the g(old)en lyrics of radios, and watching colours dribbling from brushes since a very young age, I lately started answering reasons the terms 'painter' and 'writer' are split for. Writers roar in diaries through words, and painters cry dripping colours in sketchbooks, but maybe if Van Gogh would behold a flower, he would compare it with tranquility, when Frost compared it to leaves. A painter's shades thrive in brushes when a writer's greys hide behind the words. Maybe a writer dreams moon in days, when a painter idolizes the dawns that are at the moment? Brushes and Pens both sway, but brushes perhaps praising the sky miles away when pens crying to clutch it? Again, my 10th year ended with questions.
    At the age of 11,
    I ended these thoughts with a consequence of lost words. But now, yearning them to become a muse for someone, and not a memory listed in "I used to wonder" what I still wonder— Being 13, remembering hypothesis and colossal of words now untethered, I unlock again the old chamber of collapsed observations, untold and unseen. And eventually, my heart answers— "The writers capture lies picturing realities when painters showcase realities which reminisce lores, and maybe Almighty does both?" And again, this wonder lasts with a question.

    @writersnetwork thanks for the like❤️

    —Anjali


    #diaryentry #wod

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    ©someone_alive

  • someone_alive 1w

    ����...

    Thank you, you are love @writersnetwork
    8th��
    #observation #wod #wnisalive

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    ©someone_alive

  • someone_alive 3w

    A S H E S

    Agonies dark caged for
    Ardour of envious
    Alliterating crimes
    Amble through words of past
    Agile rulers kill the
    Ascending souls with the
    Adieus unbidden

    B A T T L E S

    Beloveds burnt alive leave
    Bloodshed we never see
    Broken hearts with dark grieves
    Blasphemies woven from
    Bruised faiths creating the
    Ballads more profound than
    Burnt's epithets on grave

    C R O W N

    Cradle of the loved crown
    Catharsis for others
    Chaos for one at sail
    Crystal clear blessing
    Creating eulogies
    Capturing unique reigns
    Callous on the gallants

    D E M O N S

    Draped as the warriors
    Dragons past had once lost
    Dag own posts for which had
    Died who were gifted with
    Dauntlessness immortal
    Drenched as divine ones are
    Demons from delusions

    E T E R N I T Y

    Endless repulse of braves
    Escorting to todays
    Emperors holding the
    Eloquence of stretching
    Ethereal souls with
    Entities of real
    Embellishing laters

    F A T E S

    Fortunate tales of some
    Fables named by lost ones
    Faint lines drawn in hands hold
    Fleeting fates of beliefs
    From inhaling birth till
    Frozen breaths during death
    Faith seeming fictional

    G R A C E

    Gaudy walls staring the
    Glimpses of immense grace
    Glories of elegance
    Glistening from power
    Gaiety race with poise when
    Gloom is beneath unseen
    Galore of tears hid

    H A T R E D

    Hollers echo always
    Heartbreaks still fresh noising
    Hereditary rules
    Hurting piercing through
    Hearts with Godly wills who
    Hearken to change not reign
    Hating kingship of fates.

    I D O L S

    Illusionary eyes
    Iota of fiction
    In everliving stone
    Inspirations too strong
    Ideals for youths now
    Indulged their lives to be
    Immortals never gone

    J O U R N E Y S

    Jammed in fortunes while some
    Jostled with agonies
    Jiggling of invaders
    Jagging their lives hard by
    Jarring dynasties that
    Juggle soaring for their
    Journeys to meet an end

    K I N G S H I P S

    Kismet destines to whom
    Keys of kingdom trails to
    Kings, some too fearless
    Knife stabbers while are some
    Knight's screams echo in thrones
    Kindling braveries carved
    Killing personal woes

    L A M E N T S

    Lethal tragedies come
    Letting one long to die
    Lambent lights leave with blues
    Lost in monotonous
    Laments to leap steps and
    Last no longer now as
    Love and life have withered

    M O M E N T S

    Musings captured from birth
    Mazes of teenage the
    Marital life of Prince
    Merry times of here to
    Murderous moments and
    Maleficent things and
    Mending rages are seen

    N A I V E T Y

    Nightmares befell as
    Naivety comes when they
    Needed wisdom and strength
    Nobles defeated by
    Numerous of mistakes
    Natal king's place burned and
    Nurtured courage of foes

    O B L I V I O N

    Oracles narrating
    Obscure situations
    Opportunities to
    Over the fights and wars
    Oozed from the hourglass soon
    Obstinate faults that had
    Ordered darkness to come

    P A S T

    Poets bleeding words of
    Precise nostalgia
    Praising and condemning
    Past with wistful and great
    Pleasing and glooming things
    Passing since the walls stood
    Pumping ancient times

    Q U E E N S

    Quenching thirsts with too much
    Quintessence of belles
    Queens never stolen with
    Quotations of beauty
    Quivering lips while some
    Quick blend in royalty
    Quitting too when kings die

    R O Y A L T Y

    Reigning million kings
    Relying some on their
    Rivals withstanding them
    Returning with failure
    Royalty falling down
    Rivers with their doles or
    Raiding other kingdoms

    S A C R I F I C E S

    Splotches of sacrifice
    Sombre sounding some but
    Selfless service for else
    Serenely chaotic
    Shedding blood and tears which
    Shepherded joy and the
    Stories unforgotten

    T A L E S

    Tragedies creating
    Times eternal with the
    Treasures a great tale holds
    Trailing to forevers
    Telling grace of each one
    Traces of merited
    Tales of blithesome and gloom

    U N I T Y

    Uttering about self
    Undefeated kings lost
    Unities and entwined
    Utopian rules with
    Unhappiness and who
    United lived happy
    Unexpectedly here

    V A L O U R

    Vehemence to fight for
    Victories was great and
    Valour of emperors
    Via wills to ascend
    Vivid posts on thrones and
    Vigor told in page are
    Vague descriptions to walls

    W A R R I O R S

    Wonder stories of great
    Warriors who were then
    Woven with powers and
    Wisdom bestowed never
    Woed for being killed as their
    Wills had more importance
    Were deprived of being mean

    X E N I A

    Xeric around with wars
    Xenial fill it then
    Xians being mortals and
    Xenagogue of kindness
    Xoanon of their essence
    Xesturgy of goodness
    Xenodochial gods

    Y E A R N I N G S

    Yonder from nowadays
    Yards of greatness lived there
    Yelling screams of immense
    Yearnings and cravings of
    Youth that they push own souls
    Yes, because of their much
    Yearnings to ascend posts

    Z I L L I O N S

    Zillions of people
    Zealed to watch the immense
    Zestful ancients and
    Zoom the cameras to
    Zoom the works of greats and
    Zannies who were born for
    Zapping the graces here

    #building #sequinsequences #wod #pod #wnisalive @mirakee
    @writersnetwork Thank you, 7th��❤️
    And Editor's Choice too? Wow

    Inspired by uuuu @the_frozenn_heart
    Aaj meri ichha hui��

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    WHAT A CASTLE BE(HOLDS)

    ©someone_alive

  • someone_alive 3w

    #raindrops #wod #similie #lame ok no temp xD
    @writersnetwork Thanks a lot for like <3

    Raindrops mosey dripping down
    My pa(ne/in) to drench poetries
    When the summers bleed away
    And forevers of happiness fall
    Singing tributes to promises broken
    In blues to hearken woes around.

    When I don't wish to
    Wipe out the captured sunshine
    But also unwanting the blues to
    Be digged deeper and get lost
    As the mayhem basks under pleasure
    The Rainbow blooms within the sky.

    Memories sown under with dry depths
    Dampened by drops to wet again
    And spread the petrichors of past
    Synchronized with giggles and tears
    Like the peacocks dancing on ditties
    Which are sung by the tears of Nature.

    The summers had melted hearts
    With yellow Suns and Sunflowers
    And blurred eyes with lambent lights
    But the rain now depicts blue truths
    How the hues when draped under hopes
    Then become agonies in skies.

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    Rainy musings

    ©someone_alive

  • someone_alive 4w

    I rot in monologues of dirt
    And traverse with hardships
    On corroding roads, for what I am.
    But when I kiss Grandma's roses
    But instead they die under
    And leave a souvenir of aroma
    I hide eulogies beneath my so(le/ul)

    I swamp in cats and dogs—
    Falling from sky, for the poet
    To walk in rain and dampen
    Some of dried metaphors, rhymes
    One for me perhaps, for what I am.
    But I ain't even in moments so I
    Spot blues of drops better than him.

    Him barefooted would bleed all
    Of his allegories already and so
    I gawk the seasons amble by as
    The writer won't if I don't
    Though I don't like withering like flowers
    But I don't mind cause my journey
    Is destined, for what I am

    I am now aged and weakened
    One muddy step and I drowse
    Not too strong to be tucked or tugged
    Teased by brisk weathers when
    Once went untrodden by robust storms
    I expected the writer to behold me
    But I knew I was a sojourner, for what I were.

    #shoe #wod #pod #wnisalive
    Thanks, 6th one @writersnetwork

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    Unwritten Shoe

    ©someone_alive

  • someone_alive 5w

    Ugh.. level of stupidity�� I am gud at titles but suck at penning
    #high
    My temps always get a repost or Editor's Choice xd

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    Wall Crafts of a Wallflower

    Silent corners enwreathed with verdant musings around
    Where was sitting bystander named 'wallflower'

    Sound of his breaths filling vacancy of corners
    He hung heaps of soothing thoughts in walls of anxiety
    He blew bubbles of metaphors in air of tranquility
    Blooming hues of solitude splashed on frames of chaos
    Forgotten grieves dripped down walls of gaiety
    Dullness of gaudy noises was stitched by real shining stars

    When folks called him decent, little did they know,
    He wasn't a flower to wilt chafed in tumults
    But, was drunk and high in his own world.
    ©someone_alive

  • someone_alive 5w

    Sorry Didu, couldn't give Charlie's letter,
    My projects aren't letting me do so ;___;;;
    But Happy Birthday Diduuuu!!!
    Me lobes uu a lot, you are the best person, and also one of the firsts to support me :').
    Never go from here, and keep posting your masterpieces @tengoku

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    Didu

    She scribbles unfathomed depth of words,
    With connotation of heartfelt beauty.
    Unadored iota of words bleed,
    Glistening peculiarities unheard in her diary.

    She paints shining stars,
    In dull grey skies draped with mists.
    Her heart utters bitterly sweet truths,
    With mysterious soul of poetry.

    She shapes her allegories in shallow,
    Which steal gasps of astonishment.
    Like moon's white shimmers in,
    Black folded waves of ocean.

    She inks one liners which are enough,
    To fill the blank page with profundity.
    The same manner as depth of blackness,
    Is poured in emptiness of open space.
    ©someone_alive

  • someone_alive 5w

    Too long. U can also only read ur favourite month and skip rest :)

    @u_star here's ur tag <3
    @marmoris no temp! Thank you so much��

    #pod #wnisalive #sequinsequences
    @writersnetwork thanks a lot for everything. Corrections, suggestions, and at last, the 5th repost! Means a lot��

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    A Writer's Year

    January~

    Beginning from where the numbness and cold falls a bit from it's highest notch to coziness— A fine shimmering night when the silky sapphire moonlight beams and stars bestow clear scintillas of shine to ocean water. Wisps of freezing winds make tranquil chaos. I trap the shivery musings from around in my heart, watching still trees with arms spread in the bleak sky. These musings are then exhaled in my diary pages, coherent with little of mist, and trust me, the warmth wafts around as I pen my words. I consider it as a writer's way of exhaling numbness away.

    ~February~

    The sole winter month for a stroll is here, when the fog sits aside and lucidity eventually touches Mother Nature. I walk around wrapped up in a warm muffler and a cap. The cold sighs now melt as the gloom of Nature gets away. Trees finally bowing as their stiffness is moving. Seems as wind whispers them secrets which I overhear, and then apprise my diaries too. They tell the health of nature, as it's recovery ambles, and trees keep releasing the coldness with relief.

    ~March~

    Melancholy paving it's way to next year, finally drifts away with winter. Blissful air has replaced freezing winds scattering laments allwhere. The freshness blossoms again and Mother Earth dances with ladybugs, beetles and butterflies. Nature splashes it's all colours and moods in the sky and brings lores and fantasies in reality. As the environment gleams with happiness, flowers show in my pages too. They sway like all hues of the world are bulged in one binding.

    ~April~

    Cherry Blossoms are filling the open sky. A clear weather slightly tilted to summer. Days have aged night slumbers lately. Smooth zephyrs blow, but April showers are too on their ways making the surroundings a pleasant musing. The chilling words and phrases content the thirst of empty diaries like the showers cool down the slight of summer. And April too is then comparable with my secret pages.

    ~May~

    Days have began to wake up early and dark sleeps a lot these days. Nature craves to paint yellow in the skies and send the blackness away with chills. Yet the pleasant fresh springtime is still healing the numbness of winters... It will still cost a month to make the feelings yellow. I plant some irises on my barren page, collecting the weather from around. Irises holding depth of hues and moods in petals, which when wither, fall on my pages.

    ~June~

    Shades of yellow now spread across the clear skies, aubades are sung early by birds. Dawns touch the dullness before time. And jolly summer is now scattering fun and cheerful colours— Orange tinges piercing through Yellow. The blushing Sun, melts late in the coves and hours of dusks decrease. My mood has swung to happy rhymes which I cage in diaries. When released in winters, smell as summer warm zephyrs.

    ~July~

    Raging monsoon after burning summer arrives. Light showers of Mother drench the Earth with daubs of summer hues. The Sun blazes from behind the clouds which thunder, like Nature hollering miseries to Earth. And a beautiful rainbow after shrieks and a little warmth blossoms in the sky. I catch the vibgyor to bestrew the seven sheets of rainbow and paint my diaries with paradox of light drops trapped in sunshine.

    ~August~

    The Summer is now to pass away with it's last month, which will reborn, after euphoria will again strike Nature's Heart and darkness will be small, as warmth cannot bear numbness of their Mother, and watch her suffer with stiffness and stillness. Rain and anguish of Nature thrives and Earth is drenched more in blue tears. As the happiness is bidding an adieu till the next year, I weave eulogies with beads of words mourning for warm vibes, echoing in pages bound in hard cover.

    ~September~

    The sky turns blue muffled with dark clouds which groan at the ground and burst out with tears. The mellow yellowness has bled as Mother breathes the blue agony. The falling raindrops sing gloomy ditties and folks enjoy it's petrichors. The brevity of my poems becomes blurry and hazy as the Mother Earth's heart does, and I write vague quotes to hold the broken pieces of Nature.

    ~October~

    Fall has started to show more than before. Mother's ringlets of calm zephyrs tangle in braids with leaves and their rustling echoes. Reminiscence of tears have risen and season of writers is here. Autumn, the smell of memories wafts in the Nature with bit of stiffness, a little Winter fog with Autumn is here. My diary sniffs that aroma of memories and secures it secretly in cage of pages, with a little sadness and bass of winds.

    ~November~

    After tears of Nature had frozen, the laments are getting dense day by day, month by month. The zephyrs have tangled stronger and now robust and brisk winds blow, and coldness of sighs is allwhere. Maples and Hickories fall with contemporary moves and shivers of winter. I take these Autumn leaves as a souvenir of Autumn and gift it to my diaries, with cold epitaphs of fallen leaves. Leaves which now serve as a bookmark.

    ~December~

    Raw December bestows hoar frosts of stillness, to leaves which were viridescent, but now living in ados as the Nature does. And as the Sun with it's light mosey under the crown of dusk, dreariness of darkness rules for hours. I sit in quilts with metaphors beside, when "Frost" is the only Warmth, with my saved one of summer. My pen scribbles stiffness of outside, stuffed with snow flowers and flakes. And I don't wait till the Mother's heart thaws from cold moon to scorching Sun again, for the embers of December have their own sole warmth.


    A Writer breathes every moment and his musings for around don't age. We know, our Mother's secrets, even though she never apprises, we hath hearkened her heart.
    ©someone_alive

  • someone_alive 6w

    #melody #wod #pod @mirakee
    @writersnetwork first time Editor's Choice, thank u <3, and for like too

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    Catchy Song

    You are like a song,
    Winging with high vibes as
    Sopranos of bellowing crows and
    Your heart throbbing as
    Rippling beat of pounding waves.
    You are like a song,
    Tranquil as bass of ringlets
    Of zephyrs making palmettos
    Like me to bow with the flow.
    You are like a song,
    Born everyday with clarity
    Of aubades with dawns and
    Ending as souvenir of beloved
    With serenades of dusks,
    Who defines entity of true love.
    You are like a song,
    Gloomed with doom,
    Mentioned even on parched lips,
    Of ones on whom abyss of
    Tragedies have befallen.
    You are like a song,
    With lyrics of divine hymns,
    One day vanished with cremation,
    Of your own coffin.
    You WERE like a song,
    When others are two.
    ©someone_alive

  • someone_alive 6w

    #wnisalive #dropc #alivenights
    Thank you♡︎♡︎ fourth one @writersnetwork

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    Crying is NOT Dying

    Ever they apprised?
    Ether isn't for evermore the sky's epithet
    For the woes cloak it's luster too
    As clouds for dribbling drops of blues.

    Ever they apprised?
    The Earth's not always tough to endure
    And cracks to show crevices too
    During raging quakes like you do.

    Ever they apprised?
    Scintillating gloom in eyes
    And veiling cheeks with wetness,
    Won't leave splotches in hopes.

    Ever they apprised?
    Tears don't worn-out,
    Neither in oozing out hollers
    Or laughing about lame jests.

    Ever they apprised?
    Laments age too
    And grow more to be hidden
    In plumes of smoke or little sighs.
    ©someone_alive