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scribblesonbrokenglass · 8 days

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Ivy

let’s catch sight of ourselves:

bones, brickwork and ivy

getting ever more tangled.

as green shoots descend,

clinging to the structure

of rising walls and rolling days,

then sometime in years,

when vines and stones

are one and the same,

when we both seem to shake

in the frosty breath of winter

and in summer’s dusty haze:

we will see ourselves,

in brickwork and ivy,

grown softer and much older.

#poem #poetry #spilled ink #writing #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #writer #writers #love #poet #writerscircle #writerscreed #writing the storm #write #writeblr

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scribblersobia · 10 months

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Today I was strolling in the lobby of my house when I stopped and stood in front of a mirror, and then I leaned a bit towards the mirror to see my eyes; I saw a whole new universe today, my almond-shaped eyes with long eyelashes, the sclera with tiny visible blood vessels, my iris with beautiful patterns, and pupils which looks like a black hole. More than that, I saw my hidden feelings that my soul was reflecting through my eyes; there was sorrow, pain, and a strong sense of how stupid I am, how stupid I was to trust people who never deserved my trust. I felt bad for myself for pouring my heart in front of those who were never worthy of the delicate side of my heart. I felt sad for loving those who never loved me back. Everything happens for a reason; I know that, and my broken heart has taught me so much about the world and the people. But what to do when that uncanny feeling comes back, or how to deal with those nightmares of failures and sadness that return and give you hugs like the monsters you imagine when you see a dark place? It is so uncomfortable to deal with this feeling. My Love and Trust was an expensive piece of art, and people broke it like, it was cheap glass.

Today I am feeling stupid!

@scribblersobia

#TRUST IS EXPENSIVE #people break it like it is a cheap glass #how someones deed leave you with a heart full of doubts #writerscircle #writerscreed #poeticstories #poeticstateofmind #writerscramp #writescreed #scribblersobia

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trustonlystars · 11 months

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There are stories hidden in the corners that remained there for too long, stories with music that's unheard of. Waiting at the gate refusing to leave, they want to sail through your pages.

So, when we part ways, I will turn to these stories, I will learn to tame them within me, and stay strong once again. At 25, I don't worry about the insecurities that bothered me at 22. For the first time in these years, I was able to look at you like a season. One that stays for a while before it leaves and You, felt like Christmas.

And I have crafted stories in solitude, looking at my older self. A part of her is what I carry, she grew out of grief with a tiara on her crown and softness in her palms. She is surprised to see how I didnt turn away, or cold. She says she could never imagine being where I am. "So, you go to poetry open mics to feel alive? You are so brave. I didnt know I had it in me."

- trustonlystars | of love and self love in phases

#spilled ink #writerscreed #excerpt from a book i'll never write #trustonlystars #quotes #excerpt from a story i'll never write #poetryportal #spilled thoughts #writtenconsiderations #spilled poetry #love story #love yourself #writers cafe #keep writing #female writers #writerscorner #writerscircle #writersconnection #writerscraft

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kiananicolecowger · 9 months

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coupons

you kept coupons

and i kept a ring

tokens of our past loves

stowed away

by the people

we thought

we could be

- k.c.

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myselfishworld · 12 days

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…and the life feels like spinning fast, sweeping emotions, granting new hopes, and cycle like an engine who never runs out of fuel. While somehow in the past, it feels like a clock refuse to tick, trap me into beautiful sadness, dig down very deep that hold every breath coming from my mouth.

H.K on Time Doesn’t Heal

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rocho-suave99 · 1 year

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Light-Hearted (2/15/2023)

Nobody decides when it starts;

The paths we follow at the mercy

Of our paper hearts.

Meticulously folded,

Bent, twisted,

Weaved, and pressed,

But not molded.

A precious gift,

One most worth sharing,

But when shared with the wrong person,

You can expect a rift.

Only the vile could stomach tearing

Something so delicate.

The soul controls the epitome of art;

Intricately crafted,

All the answers lie within,

The paper heart.

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therendingflame · 2 years

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Lust

Oh you exquisite thing! A dainty rose; petals so tender. Wandering every square inch of you, I pry open like a hungry thing. Tracing my lips over the length of your tongue, I hold you close. Feasting on you, my heart flutters and flutters. I relinquish with joy, to yell out your name over and over. Oh you fine little human, A goddess; shaped perfect.

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semjase · 2 years

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How many emotions

did I hold back

just to prove

everyone, anybody

that I'm alright.

Semjase Luo Yi: 07-11-22/10:29am

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fraiserire · 1 year

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Did you ever think that maybe I’m just different?

I don’t care what they look like,

who they love, what gender they choose to be or feel they are that day,

I care about their heart, their soul, their bright as the stars spirit, the way they treat others with kindness and respect that is often not shared with them.

They way the show grace and compassion, as you don’t even though it’s the very thing your church teaches that you cower behind thinking it’ll help your hypocritical point of view.

Race, gender, who we love, cultures, religion, why does it matter so much? Aren’t we all divine beings of light? Shouldn’t we treat each other as so?

Did you ever think maybe I just want to spread love and kindness? Despite our “differences?”

When did you stop loving with an open heart?

- A. Nicole. M

#fraiserire #poetry corner #poetic prose #inkstay #illustrans #poeticstories #writercreed #writerscircle #writers and poets #cultures #gender #loveislove #poetryportal #poetscollective #poetscreed #poetscity #poetsclub

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squishamellow · 1 year

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Will you tell me a story?

Tell me a story of twins.

The story of sisters, who were only connected by blood.

Tell me a story.

Will you tell me a story?

Tell me a story of anguish.

The story of tangled jealousy and crippling paranoia.

Of crossed emotions and venomous words.

Tell me a story.

Will you tell me a story?

Tell me a story of cruelty.

The story of searing heat and cold nights.

Of flippant cuts and fleeting comfort.

With harsh reality tugging at their veins.

Tell me a story.

Will you tell me a story?

Tell me a story of betrayal.

The story of split ends and burning bridges.

Of rolling tears and dirtied hands.

With fortune’s cruel fate taking the reigns,

And god’s unforgivable mercy

Tell me a story.

Will you tell me a story?

Tell me a story of realizations.

The story of malicious thoughts and whispered promises.

Of precarious plans and shaking bodies.

With time’s threads running short,

And death’s clicking clicking closer to midnight.

Tell me a story?

Will you tell me a story?

Tell me a story of Death.

The story of disturbed nights and deep graves.

Of grimy shovels and markless stones.

With blades hastily discarded,

And the Reaper walking among them.

Taking, taking a life to the end.

Tell me a story.

Tell me a story,

Tell me a story with a ending.

Will you? Will you tell me a story?

-8:53/April 19th

#writing #writers of tumblr #writingblr #poetry #prose #original content #creative writing #horror #writerscircle #writercommunity

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whytheheart · 2 years

Quote

Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on earth.

Muhammad Ali

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scribblersobia · 2 years

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It is strange to think how we all end up with ourselves at the end of life. Our friends, parents, spouse, children, everyone will leave us one day, or we will leave them one day. Life feels like a train journey, where everyone will get off at their stations, we wave them goodbye, and we never get to see them again, and this is life. We talk about ''forever'' when in reality, nothing stays forever. Forever is just an illusion; it is instant gratification we get from the thought that nothing will end till the end. We all know how life ends, but we all are not conscious of it; we try hard to live as per the conditions of the world, but who is the real world? When we all end up with ourselves, we try to fix the world; we try hard to win the race in society, but we forget to build a loving relationship with ourselves.

@scribblersobia

#writerscircle #writerscreed #poeticstateofmind #poeticstories #writeundertheinfluence #poetryportal #scribblersobia

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trustonlystars · 1 year

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I am drawing the curtains now, seated at the throne and my crown is well-settled. I unveil emotions that are raw, and sometimes uncomfortable. I swim through oceans of pain and watch people at the shore extend their arms that would never reach me.

Amidst the roaring noise, how do I whisper that the waves have accepted me? The shore in my sight seems to be drifting away but I am no longer afraid of drowning. In my dreams I have learned that no depths of drowning will really kill me. There's a warm home inside these deep waters now. I have learned how to be okay with others not being okay with me.

There is no end I can see, there is always a direction to turn to, but for a heartbeat it seems frivolous. And I hope you understand this too, that you can't be living your life without loving yourself.

- trustonlystars | Jannie F

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jojomills · 1 year

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Where’s my tight circle of legendary, revolutionary writer friends? I ordered it from the catalogue but it never came in the mail.

#monday thoughts #introvert problems #writerscircle

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softdreams-and-strawberries · 1 year

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And for the first time in my life, I started to grasp a certain sense of safety and stability; It was so alien that I felt as though I had just started to learn how to use a computer, as an adult, while everyone around me seemed proficient in technology. 27/02/2023 © Z.N. softdreams-and-strawberries

#spilled thoughts #my writing #writers and poets #writerscircle #daily thoughts #digital diary #diary entry #healing #self healing #self growth

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rocho-suave99 · 1 year

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Life Is A Labyrinth, Time Is A Prison (1/17/2023)

Lost in the turbulence of time,

Trapped by the walls

Of a labyrinth of passing minutes.

I can visualize the reward,

Wonderful, bright,

That awaits;

But despite every corner I turn,

There seems to be no end in sight.

Beasts and beauties

I encounter,

As I follow the path before me.

If I perish before I claim

My treasure,

Do not mourn me,

For this journey will at least

Be one captivating story.

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