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Pretenders • O.E.W
Nostalgia is a Monster

I've stopped
looking back.

Nostalgia has
a funny way
of reappearing
as a beautiful
in all reality,
the past
is just a 
hiding under
translucent pink sheets.

And that
is when
I realized
that I don't
miss you;
I miss the
way I wish 
would have,
should have,
could have
loved me.

I loved
creating stories
that made you
being the heroine
and you loved
living lies
created by a
little girl.
And that is
I'm a writer,
creating stories
that I know
will come true
for someone,
you still
wash down 
your regrets
with whiskey 
and crocodile tears.

#poetrydaily #poetryisart  #poetsofig #poetryofinsta #poetryislife #poetryaccount 
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And they asked us
What use is the sunrise?
It's the same every day.

And we replied
What use is the darkness?
It's the same every day.


Photo taken approximately 6:15am, Sunday 25th August. Completely stillness and calm awaiting the first glimpse of the rising sun.

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#nature #naturephotos
“Inevitable Discomfort.” // 25.08.19 ❤️❤️ #GoWithHappyness
i exhausted my brain so much i forgot what it was like to lift a paintbrush
i’ve sold my soul to the process, and made the devil blush

i got so used to text books, i can't recall what a canvas looks like
they say that i'll be an engineer one day
they never say, "go out there and paint the skies today.
the adults are hypnotized,
they taunt me,
and tell me that i won't survive
And their words haunt me
they say that i'll end up lagging behind,
eventually resorting to begging and crying.
but they don't know
once this draft goes
it’ll be a best-selling book that can change minds,
that can influence the youth and bring out their colours
so beautiful that it puts the rainbows to shame
their emotions
so lively after using their rusty machines for the first time.

in this world
everyone is an artist
we will carve our journey into the stone
its rough texture shows the road
that we stumbled and fought on
to just breathe
to hold on to the hopes of
painting the world happy.
people will stop
and stare at the glow
on our face
no body would dare,
no body would have the heart
to even think of trying to destroy our art
that we gave our soul into making;
we gave our everything.

I will do as they ask
I know what they want of me
And I will honor this task
Becoming who my family wants me to be
But there will always be the reality
The one I keep inside
Plato’s Cave within
But flipped on its side
I wish they all knew
How much my mind’s world meant to me
But i’m accepting
That this way is what it has got to be

I am a scholar, an employee, an aspiring soldier,
But I am also the creative,
And my creativity is not my fault

If Jose Rizal neglected to write,
Where would my people be?
If Michelangelo never took flight
What would the pious in the Sistine see?
I could give up my love to write
To trade for mastery of numbers
Could gain in academia a height
And earn the begrudging respect of others
But to give up my heart, my soul
It’s doomed as Macbeth’s prophesy
To lose the right half of my whole
Would mean the certain death of me

i exhausted my brain so much i forgot what it was like to lift a paintbrush
But I rejected the Devil’s call, and made the world like Eden, so green, so lush.
When in Paris...
Tyro, one of our member from the United Kingdom shows us his awesome craft in this recent poem of his. To read the rest of this great poem visit:

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I was an estranger to 'Love' until you passed by.
My first love happened just like the romantic movie night,  but I tell you, there was no boy. Humans were too distant for me, to fall for back then but rain was too near. I fell for it when the clouds seemed darkening, taking over the light of my life, there came the sky, with little showers, falling with all its might. That was the moment, we were too close to each other, reading the eyes. We poured together, getting off of the heaviness but somehow it stayed. 
I cried, love leaves, I never knew.

When you came, I had a needle in my hand, to sew my heart, that was ripped apart. You assured me that this won't cause pain and there I handed you my heart, that still loved rain. You were the setting sun that nurtured hope and so grew my heart, blooming on its own. It wasn't months, that I began to believe, love stays. There you were, vanishing with the day.

I cried, once again. You know, love doesn't stay.

Gleaming beautifully, one fine day, no visitors on my way. I sat down to count the stars, but that night, you arrived, to fulfil the wish, I never asked. I was dumbstruck, to see you, glinting even with your half. Dear Moon, you had my heart. You were imperfections, just like me, a crazy mess, we together would be. I knelt down on my knees, to ask you to stay but you belonged to the sky, you had said.

Love doesn't happen thrice.I had known, it happens until you find your right. .RD

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Women did not become home makers because of their inability to do hard labour but purely because when nature blessed them with the power to give life, they also became the nurturer. That little human who is brought to life is made up their mother’s skin, bone and blood. The woman, now a mother is also the one source of food for the infant. Thus the woman turns from an equal bread earner to a burden on the man- totally brushing aside the fact that if she did not have this ability to birth, the world would not have been the same ever. My power to birth life, became my biggest deterrent and turned into an unfair society which blocked me and millions of others like me, from achieving my highest. There is nothing that a man can do but a woman can’t but there most definitely is what a woman can do that a man can’t. I wish people would treat motherhood with respect and pride and not as a chance to take away what is rightful for every human of any gender. #emisme #silencethatspoke #newpost #writing #writersofinsta #writersofinstagram #writerscommunity #writerspassion #writingonthewall #writers_den_ @globalpoetcult @poets #poetry #poems #poemsofinstagram #poemsoninstagram #poetrycommunity #poetsoftheworld #poetsofindia
(47/100) - Muse

She came out all guns blazing
A volley of words to describe her
Glazing, blazing, and amazing
Out there to get all the praising
But just only grazing
the limelight she was always chasing
Cause the poor girl didn't knew
it needed a lot of bracing
and breaking
to get where she wanted
to be
Not just this,
there are so many stories of her,
just as much fascinating.