Quotes and poetry by writesnetwork

I remember how you noticed my heart screams,

I remember when I broke down completely, you brought me back as a whole,

I remember that you haven't promised but yet stayed with me and held my hand,

I remember how you collected hopes and filled my soul,

I remember and will always remember how I found my existence in your presence.

©inked_selenophile

asphodel_ 8w

My words are the hollow bones where no haversian canal house the emotions soaked in blood.
Lonliness and anxiety completes me as a family where agony lives in me.

©asphodel_

thegreymetaphor 10w

I do not know
if love arrived when it should have
but it definitely went away
leaving me with poetry.
But, there are only so many words
you can contain a poem within.
And only so many poems
you can fill the void with.

I hadn't given it much thought
but I had always imagined
that love, for me,
would come clad in a lab coat
since that is how I had been
made to envision it.
But instead, it came
sputtering out the words
of Albus Dumbledore.
It came wrapped in
that's-what-she-said jokes
which always earned eyerolls.
It came carrying art
I didn't even know existed
and songs that I never
thought I could like.
It came with a cheeky smile
that had by-hearted
every quote it had ever known.
It came with such a thrill
that I almost pushed it away
before it held onto my hands
and pulled itself back in.
And then love stayed.
It stuck around till I didn't
fear it anymore.
It stuck around till I trusted
it enough to tell it to not
let me go even if I want to.
Till the air around us
remained familiar enough
for it to not fear the changes
that were incapable of
being restored to before.
Till it wasn't aware of the
adamance of it's shortcomings.
Till it wasn't scared that
it will have to love too much.
And then, love left.
Stranger seasons came
and love gave up
saying that it's for the best
because it doesn't know
how to love someone
with it's everything,
making me feel foolish
for not knowing how to not.
And I could do nothing but envy
love's ability to take and take
all it could when it wanted to.
It's boldness to drown
all that was fragile enough to sink.

Years later, I wonder
if love would ever realise
that when it's shelter
turned into a battlefield,
it won only because
I couldn't see it losing.
I wonder if love
would ever know that
there was a girl who
couldn't stop writing about it
because she didn't know how to.

©Srishti

________________________________________________________________

The idea of this personification is inspired by Sarah Kay's "when love arrives."

Time for an intervention!!!
Someone please tell me not to write the cliché anymore. It's been long and I might strangle myself with my own poems now. ಠ_ಠ

Souvenirs

They say love is pain, well darling, let's hurt tonight.
If this love is pain, then honey let's love tonight.

- One Republic, Let's hurt tonight.

thousand_splendid_thoughts 10w

The last time I met you I walked towards you knowing that this maybe is my last walk towards you and the last time you welcome me with a shine in your eyes and locked away 'i love you's' trying to find a way to leak through your smiling lips. My shivering hands and quivering lips were whispering about the effect you had on me, to your pinky finger which was silently finding it's way to link with mine.

I kissed the lyrics of 'Aaj jaane ki zid na karo' on your neck and you reciprocated by lingering 'kash vo pal paida hi na ho jiss pal m nazar tu na aye' on my forehead. We both knew how these lyrics always redefined the meaning of contradiction with fate whenever two yearning souls tried to scratch away the lines engraved on their hands which preached poetries of separation.

We walked on the lines of fate since the day I whispered
"walk with me till the point, fate wants us to walk"

Time went away in measuring my hand with yours. I held on your hand tightly and clung to it till your nails left poetry marks on my fingers. You tucked withered mogra in my hair after saying "come back to me the day they would bloom again". I shifted close to you till you could feel my breath and then said "Call me the day you kiss someone else and find universe melting on your tongue"

Two days back you called me and said nothing. Silence again slept between us.

"Buy her some fresh mogra and never let them wither"

With that, I ended the call and hugged the mogra which was blooming again under the sunlight of my poetries.

#genuine_readers #writersnetwork

"I always feel stars melting on my tongue
when you seal your lips on mine"
You said while stroking my hairs.

"You know when you would finally meet 'her',
you would find a universe melting on your
tongue." I said

You silently looked at me, said nothing and
held me closely. I could feel you whisper

"There are a thousand universes in your stars"

©thousand_splendid_thoughts

zohiii 10w

It was a cold and blue October dayspring, countless Shiuli flowers were on the cusp of blooming. A songbird perched on the window with snow-white curtains. Her symphonies enticed a chilly breeze that slipped into the room, and slept inside his jet-black hair. And for the first time in five long years, he came out of his darkness.

The smell of heavy medication filled his nose, from the injections scattered on the table beside the bed. His joints were rusty. But he managed to pull his hand up, shielding his eyes from the piercing light. After gently ridding off the syringe in his arm, he gaped at his hands without batting an eyelid. One by one, he felt every fraction of his skin. At last, he exhaled a sigh so cold that winter seemed closer.

He cried the monsoons he couldn't feel, with his fingers pressed hard on his back. His pillow was drenched in the tears of triumph, in a battle that he had nearly lost. Sliding into the flip-flops that someone kept there, with hopeless hope of having his feet ever fit in them, he took short steps towards the window to gaze outside. It felt strange. He gaped at the children playing, the orange leaves, the shedding trees, the blue sky, the cobblestones, and walked back. He had to address the soft pandemonium behind the closed door, but before he could, a fragrance tickled his insides. He dragged the drawer of the stinky furniture, and found out dozens of fresh night-flowering jasmines. He soaked in their wintry perfume and felt alive.

"I-I don't think there's any scope left," Aster glimpsed at his mother with a love-longing gaze. She sat sobbing on her couch of sorrow on a call with her friend.

"I'll see you at work, yeah, take care," she rose with much labour and turned around to keep the receiver back.

Her feet froze and she was stunned on catching the sight of a tall figure standing by the door of her lifeless son's room from the corner of her eye.

"ASTER!" she screamed her agony and ran towards him with eyes flooding with tears of happiness. Collapsing to the floor with her arms wrapped around him she cried as she did on all the nights he drifted farther and farther from home. And then both of them sat silently on the table. She covered him in a warm blanket and brewed a hot drink.

"Today is the happiest day of my life," she smiled and occasionally wiped her tears and Aster nodded back with a numb face. He was still processing. He had lost much, he had yet to figure out what was left.

"Mom, where are my friends? I think I should call them," he spoke faintly and softly.

"Your drink is getting cold, c'mon gulp it before it's water," she tried to sway away with nervousness.

"What's wrong?"

After sighing and pondering for a short while, she sat in disappointed colours in front of him.

"To hold onto the very hope that I'd see you again, wasn't easy. It's a miracle. Later, when the doctors said that you were comatose, they felt sad too. Most of them came with flowers. Most of them sad, a few indifferent."

She paused to see his face a bit.

"Sadly. Tragically. But then, they continued to live on. Until one year, you had visitors but they reduced each day. And I haven't heard about 'em in the last two to three years at all. I know it's hard. But five years. Five years!"

He was feeling sedated and sleepy. And he was still processing; his senses weren't awakened yet to their full functionality.

"So, they forgot me,"

"It's not like that. I'm darn sure—"

"The show must go on, eh?" he interrupted her, feigning a bright tone.

"Haha, yeah, that's my queen!" she played in the reference joke and went on to do the dishes in the sink.

"The flowers smelt sweet, what are they?"

"Oh, those in the drawer? I guess they are night jasmines. Alaska keeps them there every day."

"Alaska?" he wore innocent confusion on his face.

"Yeah, since you were gone, she visits you every morning and keeps them there," she had almost finished with washing the crockery and dishes and Aster too got up and went back into his room.

He ransacked every inch of his closet and conjured up a dusty photo album. With every polaroid that passed, myriad emotions came and went on Aster's face. A lot had gone by, a lot more than he could imagine. In all the photographs that he saw, Alaska stood at a distance, there was someone between them always.

Having rummaged through stacks and stacks of photos, he finally found the one he was looking for. A picture of him and Alaska. It was a happy picture. She had blonde hair and her ocean-blue eyes stared at him and he whispered to himself, "Why, Alaska?"

He had to slide the picture inside the album, but before that, he would have to wipe it dry and clean off the brine that settled on it— from his eyes on hers.

Next morning, a bright blue and silent October morning, Alaska came. She grinned at Aster's mother and wished her a pleasant day as she had been doing for the past five years, and trudged towards his room.

Aster was sitting on his bed upright, with a Shiuli flower resting in his palm. She entered into the room without knocking. The songbird was singing, there was a gentle zephyr in the room, and there was him and there was her.

She didn't believe what she saw. But sans wild and irresistible emotions taking over her, she slowly reached him and sat beside with their shoulders touching. She emptied the deep chambers of her trench coat and handed all the night-flowering jasmines with a brilliant smile to Aster.

"Thanks. For all the flowers, Alaska."

He looked into her beautiful eyes that implored not to be thanked, and conveyed all that Alaska was willing to do for Aster.

They sat silently, listening to each other breathe, shrouded by the fragrance of the Shiuli flowers.

It was October, and winter was around the corner, but none of them had ever felt warmer before.

©zohiii

• Heavily inspired from Shoojit Sircar's October.

#winterc

If you remember me, then I don't care if everyone else forgets.
—Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

felix__anima 10w

.

veloc1ty_ 10w

Thank you for the help @meru_mukh ❤

Written from the perspective of a girl in her teens.

#lettersbyvelo

To the boy who thinks I don't notice him noticing me

To start it off, you have some of the most beautiful eyes I've seen on human faces, and although I haven't been through more than a couple thousand faces, I can surely vouch for yours to be among the top hundreds of those magnanimous pearls. I can say this with utter certainty because I've had the glorious opportunity of savouring them in their purest form everytime I've caught you sneaking glances at me, during lectures when they should've been fixated on the board and not at the side of my face. I've always adored the look of embarrassment on your face coupled with your abrupt turning of head over to the ceiling, in panic and chaos after getting caught. But has it ever stopped you from looking again? We both know the answer.

I admire the incessant amount of efforts you put in daily, in making me feel at home, even though the only place we come across each other is a classroom of 30 others like you. But you make sure to stand out when you help me clear my endless doubts and queries about math, when you help me perfect my knowledge about ancient history and modern civics, when you so easily break down the complex formulas that govern the pages of science, but I always fail to understand how someone as bright as you could fall for a dimwit like me.

I'm sorry about the day you handed me your pen when my stupid butt forgot to carry mine, and you had to sit through the entire lecture staring at your book since you didn't have a spare one. I sat through the lecture, tracing circles on the last page of my notebook, feeling bad about it.

You never fail to bring a smile on my face. Even though the jokes you crack are always the lamest ones, I can't help myself but crack a smile. Your laugh is something that reminds me of my dad trying his best to cure my grumpiness with everything he can find in the moment's rush.

The other day, walking towards home, my gaze fell upon a flock of seagulls migrating towards a place opposite to the horizon, enacting a structure of your very initials, and the sky never looked more beautiful. And last week when I was at my maternal grandmother's place helping her bake cookies, the faces of those soon to be crunchy monsters slightly resembled yours, and I didn't munch on any of those. It's not like I always search for you in everything, it's just that everything I find happy reminds me only of you.

I don't know what you see me in me, I really don't but I see a lot in you. I see a heart that soars with love it's yet to give, a mind that shelters positivity in its every nook and cranny, a soul that breathes innocence and a smile that has my heart, mind and soul hooked to it. I'd really be the luckiest girl alive if you are reserved under my name, somewhere in a future that I'm so sure of to be nothing but bountiful if it has to coincide with yours. I really hope you never change and neither do I, and we grow graciously with time but never apart. I hope we don't slowly steer into an unfamiliarity that is uncalled for, at the current moment and for others to come because I'd hate to be that person who lost everything before she even had it in her palms and by the look on your face, I'm sure you would too.
©veloc1ty_

amsterdam 10w

You chew on memories like
They are orange happy pills
In blue and grey packets
That tasted like winter dreams,
And you choke on a lump
Of frozen teardrops,
Flakes of nostalgia
Burn your throat
Stab your chest
And you bleed in silence.

Rummaging through
Polaroids from 1960
You ask yourself again
Where time has gone by?

You still sport the same haircut
Wear your favorite stonewashed jeans
Listen and enjoy the same playlist
Yet, you feel like someone else
Trapped in the wrong body
Suspended in an odd time zone
And you're like a stranger
In the city where you were born.

Your name doesn't ring a bell anymore
No one asks who lives in 501 Daffodil Street,
Even the mailman and newspaper guy
Have forgotten their way to your doorstep
And you wonder what happened,
You ask yourself for the 9th time
Where time has gone by?

But no one is left to
Answer your questions, only
The antique time machine
The war-torn calendars
The empty chair and
The forgotten cobwebs

Are left behind.

©amsterdam
11.06.20 #pod
Lesson: Live life to the fullest.
Thank you @writersnetwork ! ❤��

Solitary

rumanrulesneverend 12w

He planted a rose garden on our first anniversary may be he was planting roses to put on my cemetery, maybe. when I asked him to sow a lily and jasmine in our garden he react that the smell of jasmine make him intolerable and lilies smells makes him to take a hyperventilate, so I cease to pin lilies in my hair.

after an era barely he gets a quality time to lay out, with me. he started coming home at midnight and before I woke up, he was ready to leave for the office. how hapless a wife can be, that she can't start her day, by seeing his consort face. does a marriage holds a sign of living relationship that the couple has no covenant of living together till last breath.

when I was separating the clothes for the laundry, I smelled the jasmine essence in his coat, which gives a raw, deep cut to my soul. that night was sleepless, he lay next to me. he didn't give me a chance to ask. how was the day. and an order in a heavy voice to not interact, was making me more unbearable to sleep beside him.

the next morning before he leaves for the office, I asked him to come home soon and I get to hear again, those lies with a forehead kiss, which makes me unbearable, I said darling! before I die lets have a dinner tonight and that weird smile on his face hits home. when I asked him can I tie a zipper tie, he has gone off as an excuse, like he was no more mine.

I waited for him not with the exhilaration, but with the query. a red rose in his hand looks like a death warrant and an exotic bloom smells like poison. before having a meal I asked him for a hug and he kissed on my hands. he smells like jasmine more than a rose in my garden, that love bite on his neck and hair strikes on his coat left many query behind me.

when I asked him where is your betrothal ring and that platinum chain which I present you on your nuptial night. he takes a leave without uttering a single word.

we shared a bed not love we lay beside weren't cuddled since ago we have been married still alone, but the only me; he found a jasmine girl maybe the aroma of jasmine with a lily makes him more of her than mine.

stop planting roses it's beautiful but not blissful.
©rumanrulesneverend

veloc1ty_ 12w

@raika ��
@writersnetwork @mirakee

breathing wearily in a field of hatred,
im a wild orchid, i grow restless
devoid of water and sunlight
i wilt at every sigh and breathe at every kind gesture
i dont hold envy inside my tender stems
but my values are deeply rooted inside apprehension.
hatred sure does spread like a wildfire,
but i find grace only inside a fireplace.
i lie dormant there, an illegitimate progeny
of brazen thoughts and foolish choices,
but i am a proud parent
of ferocious dreams and fortunate decisions
i don't nurture regrets inside my heart
coz i outlived every mistake i faltered.
i learned life more through my questionable decisions
than through my perfect choices
and like a blunt shard of hope,
on the verge of losing its edge
every time i sliced through your bad faith,
i lost half of my sharpness
and in an attempt of teaching you humanity
i lost all of my kindness
the aftermath i suffered was bleak and grim
i fell flat on my face and broke two of my teeth
i tried hard to get up, but "no" shouted my feet
it forgot the function of walking, and my mind forgot peace
©veloc1ty_

writesnetwork

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