I'm a poet and short story writer. I write haiku, free verse and lyrical poems too. Insta: @writer.moin
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What brought you to the world of poetry I wonder?
If I say that my curiosity for the English language brought me to the world of poetry, it wouldn't be wrong.
But what made me actually dive into this unknown world was a poem I read in my eleventh grade. I was reading a poem for leisure, and a thought came to my mind. "These poets are humans, like us. If they can write a poem, why can't I?" Then my journey began.
I transitioned from nature poems to love; love poems to hate; hate poems to experimental poems; experimental to structured poems; and finally back to love and nature poetry. I am still exploring.
Thank you for asking, @most-ment ! I am honoured.
My Taglist: @jordynhaiku @most-ment @littlemissjahi @sunlovemoon @selene-stories @yumiraaa @universetalkz @aaronawbra @somebodyssongbird @sweetwarmcookies16 @distilledmelancholies @fordothepoet @hauntedandwholesome @vixen1012
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The Wilted Love
My love, I do not love you.
Leave me! Let me lose my mind.
I am still and nothing new,
but all the pain, PAIN combined!
I will not be rude, love, twice.
Begone! This hour is not mine.
Have a say? Then be precise.
Be so quick before I whine.
(I know that winter reigns your heart.
But will there never be a sun?
Without you whither shall I dart?
Are...are you not my only hun?)
I am done with loving you.
This love you can not renew.
My Taglist: @most-ment @jordynhaiku @thecreakywriter @littlemissjahi @hauntedandwholesome @sunlovemoon @sweetwarmcookies16 @selene-stories @vixen1012 @fordothepoet @distilledmelancholies @aaronawbra @yumiraaa
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The Presence
Standing in the rain
with her beside me,
I smile the length of a rainbow.
The rain falls.
I feel alive!
I sense a circus of emotions,
juggling Joy, Anxiety and Bliss
and nothing falls apart.
A complete man I am!
The rain falls slowly.
Steaming cup in my hand,
the wafting smell is pleasing
to me;
she sits in front of me
with a dazzling smile,
she holds my hands and asks:
"Which warmth is your favourite:
the coffee's or mine?
I kiss her hand;
no words are needed
where actions are loud enough.
The rain descends.
We walk away
to our favourite place;
where we met and sat
and had a chat,
and we are glad...
We laugh at our silly days,
and I find myself pinching her cheeks.
She repays me with a nose pinch.
We both laugh and time
stops
to look at us.
The rain has stopped,
but a storm rises in my heart.
Suddenly!
She grabs my hand and leads me
somewhere where I had never been,
for she wants me to be a part of her
forever.
Note: This is a prequel to The Absence poem I posted yesterday.
My Taglist: @most-ment @jordynhaiku @thecreakywriter @littlemissjahi @hauntedandwholesome @sunlovemoon @sweetwarmcookies16 @selene-stories @vixen1012 @fordothepoet @distilledmelancholies @aaronawbra @yumiraaa
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The Absence
Standing in the rain,
I can not forget her smile,
nor can I see it again.
The rain falls.
Why did I hope to be alive?
when all I am
is
a carcass moving like a snail,
but liquifying with each trail
until I am no more.
The rain falls still.
Steaming cup in my hand,
the wafting smell is pleasing
to those who have a heart of joy;
not me, who has had his heart
loved—
shouldered by sorrow, slowly.
The imprints of my lips are cold,
exuding a forgotten warmth
yet, on the other side of the table,
a strange silhouette warms my ears—
ah! The coffee stings my tongue.
The rain falls heavily.
I walk away
somewhere;
where we met and sat
and had a chat,
and I was glad...
My hands are cold and cracked,
but a ghost of hand holds them
and I feel loved in this
depressing rain.
The rain stops.
Altogether.
The mood is worsening more,
and I must go somewhere;
where you are not
but I am.
My Taglist: @most-ment @jordynhaiku @thecreakywriter @littlemissjahi @hauntedandwholesome @sunlovemoon @sweetwarmcookies16 @selene-stories @vixen1012 @fordothepoet @distilledmelancholies @aaronawbra @yumiraaa
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Hating Hatred
Dread and terror will be rising
from the bottom of my heart,
hate, and hate will start devising;
all your schemes shall fall apart.
Not one inch of my hatred then
will fill the emptiness you feel,
and love will only count to ten
before your heart can wholely heal.
You stabbed me with a smile so bright
that all remorse was swallowed in.
But I will not give in to spite
and that shall teach you how to win.
My Taglist: @most-ment @jordynhaiku @hauntedandwholesome @distilledmelancholies @vixen1012 @littlemissjahi @sweetwarmcookies16 @sunlovemoon @selene-stories
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Love at Almost Midnight
I have set my heart on you;
it beats in joyous glee.
Feelings which I can't subdue
are running towards thee.
So hold me like you hold a string,
and mould my heart like clay;
careful be with what you sing,
for it won't beat and stay.
The night is also calling me
as moon and stars have come to see
the reason why I smile at thee,
for I have you and you have me.
My lovely taglist: @hauntedandwholesome @most-ment @jordynhaiku @vixen1012 @sunlovemoon @somebodyssongbird @sweetwarmcookies16 @fordothepoet @littlemissjahi @distilledmelancholies @selene-stories
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Hello there, what's your favourite type of poetry to write?
My favourite type of poetry is—most probably—quatrain, rhyming. If you were to ask me for flawless flow of thoughts with accuracy, it would be free-verse. I am still exploring other forms of poetry.
As for theme, it is better when I write story-poems, romance, nature and dejected poems.
What are your favourites, my friends?
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Looking Back At Her
Looking back at her, I smiled. It was a broken one—the one you give to your family in the evenings when the boss shouted at you all day. I knew I wouldn't want her to be troubled by the state of my bruised heart. Walking silently, my eyes laden with tears, I felt a lump in my throat. I looked back again, knowing she won't be there anymore. But there she was, standing few steps away holding an umbrella, "Take this with you! I won't need an umbrella because I like to get embraced by the rain when I see you teary-eyed."
"Just go..." I say pushing back the umbrella.
"Not until you tell me what troubles you."
"I am a complete mess. I can't handle rejection; I can't handle people; I can't be decisive; I can't be an overachiever; I can't be alone; I always fall; I always stumble and break my confidence; I always am vulnerable. I am nothing but dust, and I can't be anything more. I feel weightless."
"I know." she tapped my shoulder. "I know that it's you. I love you equally! You are a mess, but you are mine; the world can reject you, but I will not. If you can't be alone, let me through your heart. If you fall, let me pick you up. If you are dust, then I will be the wind. Let's travel together and be the reason for each other's existence. You are not alone, dear love! You are my loneliness, that's why I come to you every time I want to be comforted."
She wiped my tears, and we sat under the bus stand, listening to the orchestra of the rain. I held her hand firmly, and a warmth filled my heart and spirit. She smiled back at me, and I felt that her smile had brought back the sun and the rain left hurriedly, as if blessing us. I cried that day with a smile for the first time.
Ah, this is love!
My Taglist: @most-ment @jordynhaiku @sunlovemoon @sweetwarmcookies16 @somebodyssongbird @distilledmelancholies @littlemissjahi @yumiraaa @somebodyssongbird @selene-stories @vixen1012 @hauntedandwholesome
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Death
And then, I saw nothing
more comforting than the end
that ends all Ends;
it comes slowly, then
suddenly you-are-out-of-breath—
Calm.
Death awaits at the door.
There's no knocking,
but scratching;
growing sharper by the second—
silence then!
Fear whispers in my ear
that death is here.
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Have you ever seen a painted bunting?
I have never seen it in real life. But it does inspire the passion in me; the passion to free the bird in my poems. On that note, a short poem about the bird:
Painted Bunting
I saw a painted bunting in my dreams; a coat of rainbow on its feather sleeps and the eyes the canyon of passion while it dances in lively fashion.
It sings just like I write but with fondness of the heart; I witness his last flight as it perches on my heart.
My Fleeting Tag List: @annotated-catastrophe @most-ment @jordynhaiku @hauntedandwholesome @aaronawbra @somebodyssongbird @sweetwarmcookies16 @sunlovemoon @vixen1012 @yumiraaa @universetalkz
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What should I write about?
Thanks for the ask! Since you write poetry mostly, why not try a hand at prose, like essays, article, letter to self, etc ?
If you have run out of themes, try combining two (or more) themes and write a poem. For example, you can combine nature with machine: what can you think of? Try weird combos too, like, breakup and the possibility of ever falling in love again?
My personal request after reading your poems is that why not try come challenging poem forms like ballads, sonnet, villanelle, terza rima, etc. ?
You write amazing poems! Keep writing! I hope I got it answered. ^_^ @sweetwarmcookies16
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Flower Blooming
I fain would ask the earth for its love
that sprouts from soils in tender buds,
and sit beside and look above
and wait for them to spring from muds.
What ecstasy could rival this
than waiting for the bud in bliss!
Alert your eyes and do not miss
the flower blooms with morning kiss!
I wish to soak my heart in sorrow,
for flowers will wilt tomorrow;
surely, all my dreams will fade
and dissolve in that tree's shade.
A balance of life and death there is,
and truth resides in nature's law.
A life becomes 'was', another 'is'
Is not it beauty that I saw?
But I can see the petals peep
from their robes, and slowly keep
my heart and eyes laid upon
the yawning of the flowers born.
The sun too blooms from the sea,
altering its robes with time.
The beauty that we find is we,
for we see the truth sublime.
My Blooms: @most-ment @jordynhaiku @hauntedandwholesome @distilledmelancholies @somebodyssongbird @sweetwarmcookies16 @sunlovemoon @vixen1012 @yumiraaa @universetalkz @aaronawbra
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To Shakespeare:
Love's labour is not lost,
for there sprouts Amaryllis
on the graves of the parted ones
who dream of purple poppies.
And ravens frequent with lilies
in their beaks.
Much ado about nothing;
a string of cries from the grave
sting the hearts of the owls—
ah, that's why they are awake
even at night...
A midsummer night's dream
swept over the starless night—
horrific hauntings haunting haunts of
haunted ones;
nightmares turned to dust
only to rise from their ashes
to haunt the undaunted.
Love's labour did not win,
for there lies beside the lover
the remains of her beloved
beneath the corpses of the leaves—
leaving love lost in myriad mazes
of unrequited cries that would only
return the empty echoes:
another form of nightmare,
O Shakespeare!
Victorian Taglist: @most-ment @jordynhaiku @universetalkz @hauntedandwholesome @sunlovemoon @somebodyssongbird @sweetwarmcookies16 @darkacademiastuff @distilledmelancholies @vixen1012 @yumiraaa @fordothepoet @jaxwrites @littlemissjahi
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Thank you @annotated-catastrophe for the 500th reblog and everyone who got me to 500 reblogs!
Special Mentions: @friesnoketchup @jordynhaiku @hauntedandwholesome @distilledmelancholies @selene-stories @yumiraaa @distilledmelancholies @ghostly-prompts @hauntedandwholesome
Selling Stars
I sold a star today to the Star People
in exchange for a heartbeat that only
I
could listen.
I got greedy and sold 5 more,
and I heard your voice for 5 long seconds.
I offered another star,
but they warned me about
the consequences of selling any more stars;
that they needed it but not at the cost of
the universe I live in.
I tried selling the moon,
but they gave me the look you get
when you try to sell your soul.
It was the moon I offered
in exchange, I get to see—yes—see your
face—the countenance I wanted to see
more than anything.
I woke up next to you, your hands in mine;
how dreamy it was!
I pressed my ear against your chest,
a rise and fall of waves dance
in my other ear,
but there's no heartbeat from the other.
I felt my own heartbeat,
but—strangely, it wasn't there either.
Who has died? Me or you?
I'd rather that it was me,
for your death would kill me anyway.
Ah, I see, the selling of celestial bodies
was a dream and this is reality.
But then,
who are the two people I see
in the waters of this sea,
my dearie?
Starry Taglist: @most-ment @jordynhaiku @joysandroses @hauntedandwholesome @distilledmelancholies @sunlovemoon @somebodyssongbird @sweetwarmcookies16 @yumiraaa @universetalkz @twisted0limbs-deactivated202312
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Selling Stars
I sold a star today to the Star People
in exchange for a heartbeat that only
I
could listen.
I got greedy and sold 5 more,
and I heard your voice for 5 long seconds.
I offered another star,
but they warned me about
the consequences of selling any more stars;
that they needed it but not at the cost of
the universe I live in.
I tried selling the moon,
but they gave me the look you get
when you try to sell your soul.
It was the moon I offered
in exchange, I get to see—yes—see your
face—the countenance I wanted to see
more than anything.
I woke up next to you, your hands in mine;
how dreamy it was!
I pressed my ear against your chest,
a rise and fall of waves dance
in my other ear,
but there's no heartbeat from the other.
I felt my own heartbeat,
but—strangely, it wasn't there either.
Who has died? Me or you?
I'd rather that it was me,
for your death would kill me anyway.
Ah, I see, the selling of celestial bodies
was a dream and this is reality.
But then,
who are the two people I see
in the waters of this sea,
my dearie?
Starry Taglist: @most-ment @jordynhaiku @joysandroses @hauntedandwholesome @distilledmelancholies @sunlovemoon @somebodyssongbird @sweetwarmcookies16 @yumiraaa @universetalkz @twisted0limbs-deactivated202312
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Hopeful Misery
A bloated cloud of misery
hung over me,
dragging its weight—floating a metre away
The rain only darkened the cloud,
now only half-a-metre above me—
it burst over me by the thunder
of thoughts that howl in my head
forever.
Eyes sunken like molten lava,
the shoulders cracked like dry mud,
I tread outside my home—
every step an empty thump of hope.
As I ride my bicycle,
I paddle through a crowd of confusion
with the moving of the wheels;
my head clears upon the blowing of the wind,
and the breeze of nostalgia revives hope—a gleam in my eyes.
© Moin
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The Last Letter
Listen to me, you half-baked cookie!
Flip your fins until you can move no more.
Love,
listen...to
~ me
when I praise you,
remember you,
scold you,
call you a squashed onion,
think about you
between
^
my pages.
You can scold me,
smile at me,
pinch my nose,
be angry,
return to me,
love me
a
little...more than
I do.
I hope you
find
me
buried in
s ❄️ n ❄️ o ❄️ w ❄️!
Snowy Taglist: @most-ment @jordynhaiku @hauntedandwholesome @twisted0limbs @yumiraaa @vixen1012 @aaronawbra @universetalkz @distilledmelancholies @somebodyssongbird @sweetwarmcookies16 @sunlovemoon
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