histórias de Metaphors

Some stories don't end - they linger, like April rain on quiet days. 𝑨𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒂 is a collection of moments that exist in the in-between - where beginnings feel uncertain, endings arrive softly, and emotions refuse to fade completely. Each poem captures fragments of connection, loss, growth, and quiet realization, unfolding like petals that never fully close. This is not a book of perfect endings. It is a book of almosts, echoes, and afterglow - of feelings that stay long after they should have left. Step gently into 𝑨𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒂, where every page holds a piece of something once felt, and never entirely forgotten. This collection contains poems written for Versification by Wattpad Poetry Ambassadors profile @Poetry.

A collection of poems about everything and nothing:)

"You don't build a future in a town you're passing through, Harry," she replied, her voice barely steady. "I'm not passing through." "You always are." Harry Styles was a man defined by the exit sign. Between the sold-out stadiums, the hazy recording studios, and a life lived through a tour bus window and private jet, he was a ghost in motion. He was the man who left; she was the one who stayed behind, rooted in the hills of Arezzo like the perennials in her garden, blooming in a cycle he never stayed long enough to see. . Exhausted by the glare of fame, Harry retreats to a quiet town on the outskirts of Arezzo, seeking refuge from the expectations that have defined his life. In a modest house with a serene, vibrant garden, he rediscovers stillness and simplicity, finding comfort in small routines and the quiet rhythm of daily life. But even in this hidden corner of Tuscany, human connection finds a way in, stirring curiosity, trust, and the gentle possibility of something more.

Every flower has a meaning. Some represent love. Some represent healing. Some represent remembrance. But in a small nursery called Valley Bloom, three flowers carry something deeper - the stories of those who survived dragons, storms, and war. And sometimes... the people who need those flowers most walk through the door. Three strangers. Three battles survived. A valley of fire, a storming sea, and a field of forgotten grief. Years later, fate brings them to the same quiet place... a small nursery where flowers carry stories of survival. Some blooms are more than just flowers. Sometimes, they are memories.

A mortal spends hours pouring over parchment by candlelight in rickety taverns across the land while his companions rest. While cheering from downstairs and snoring from beside him closes in on Arthur, he pens letters to his beloved patron. A shame he'll never receive them.

It started with something simple. A swipe, a match. A notification lighting up the screen at midnight. Two strangers who knew nothing about each other yet somehow stayed awake until 3 a.m. talking about everything. But one day... their last message is the only thing left. Not knowing what life has written for them.

Welcome to Poetry Roughbook. Not every poem begins as a masterpiece, and this one was never meant to be. Poetry Roughbook isn't a collection of perfect poems. Instead, it's a notebook of crossed-out lines, midnight thoughts, coffee stains, and messy drafts where ideas bloom, metaphors wander, and words slowly learn how to breathe. Every poem in these pages is based on prompts shared by Wattpad's Poetry Ambassadors. Each prompt is an invitation to experiment, challenge my creativity, and discover new ways to tell a story through verse. Some poems are polished. Others remain beautifully unfinished. Together, they capture a journey of learning, growing, and finding beauty in imperfection - one prompt, one page, and one poem at a time. This is a place for first attempts, quiet victories, imperfect metaphors, and poems that simply wanted to exist. So, if you don't mind a little mess, a little magic, and a lot of ink... Turn the page. I hope these pages feel a little like home. All poems are original unless stated otherwise. Prompt credits belong to their respective creators.

*FEATURED by _ShortStory_, dystopianapocalypse, Fright, and 4 others (all honors inside)* An enthusiastic fetus, a rebellious hound, an android child for sale, 'rain' that brings Happiness, a game that claims to be the key to world peace... the connection? Cavemen. Perhaps, humans have never left their Cave. Perhaps, Humanity is doomed to witness the same woes, the same horrors, not in a world of stones and bone spears but of androids and artificial rain. Deeply metaphorical, this story collection explores the immutability of human nature. Through cross-section story pairs, it draws parallels between snapshots of the Past and Present ("Cavemen" section) and of the Future ("Androids" section). Start date: February 23rd, 2019 End date: May 14th, 2019 Unpublished due to evolving creative interests then republished for personal reasons in 2026

Who would've guessed that Death preferred Gucci over Louis Vuitton? Who would've guessed that heaven and hell isn't what you think it is? Well . . . no one did. But when Death gets bored, he shops; be it clothes or souls. [Welcome to Rinverse, we have Death and more deaths!] •Will be updated frequently because short novel •English

Where the flower blooms, the butterfly follows. She blooms quietly, like a flower waiting for sunlight. He drifts through life like a butterfly-drawn to beauty, terrified to land. When their paths cross, something shifts: her kindness becomes pollen he can't help but carry, and his silence becomes the wind that stirs her petals. But even the softest connection can change everything.

Long night longs for my mind. ~stream of consciousness~

The story involves 2 kids, once as kids in the same neighborhood, who liked to play with each other. But...will it stay that way forever?

Hi! Considering you're here, it means you've been wandering around the "Unwanted" section, right? Har har, kidding. Basically what this is a collection of all the practices from the Writer's Workshop by Pineapple2141. Just a bunch of 5-lines stories together, or part thereof, lol. Hope ya'll like it - the idea, I mean. But if you dont, well.... Bye.

short and feelings

❝ they were like stars carved in her skin. ❞ © o w e n all rights reserved. 2016 [10.31.16 - #223 short story]

04.04.2017

Ever since Konan had been diagnosed with ptsd, along with a form of mutism as the result, he had become mentally isolated from the world. To him time wasn't precious at all, just something he couldn't get rid of. Then finally he is about to enter high school, and what awaits there can only be described as komorebi.

A poem written some time ago.

Reflection of yourself

i bleed without slitting my wrists and turn the blood into loops of my handwriting i pour without opening my mouth i cry without tears flowing from my eyes so, i will seal my lips and close eyes letting the words escape from the cage of my heart through writing credits to the owner of the picture