The Ink Spilling From My Pen ✔
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The ink that spilled out of my pen formed these poetry.
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A random poetry collection that spilled out of my pen. My ink is dark, black and simple, but my poetry is of a lighter shade.
*All Rights Reserved.
*Cover by @Hamna20
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My Poetry Escape
I may just be a girl. No one special. Nothing compared to others. In the eyes of the universe, I am just a little speck of dust. My light may not shine very bright, and it may not be of any use, but I am me. Writing is my only escape out of this world. I cry rivers of ink and climb mountains of words. I may not write as well as others, but my writing is just a different style. They're my feelings. I really do hope you can connect to some of the work in here. Please, do not copy any of this work without informing me first. Thank you! "My Escape" I have a supply, In the closet near my bed, Of past memories, Hanging by a thread. A thread, Connected to my mind, That thread, Just follows me around. I have a hole, In the middle of my heart, That hole fills up, When someone's torn apart. I have a tear, Accompanying my lonely eye, Knowing, whenever I'm alone, I can sit in a corner and cry. Even though, These things are there, I still have ink, a notebook, and a pen, To care. I write and write, To my heart's desire, New feelings erupt, By the hour. Writing is, My one escape, In this cruel and careless world, I have the power, to awake. "A Story Without Words" A story told, In a little tune, A golden smile, And a shining tear, Rolling down my cheek. A little breeze, The nice sun, A marvelous day, Turned into a wet one. The memories dripped, Down on my cotton white shirt, Leaving stains, On my malicious heart. Your smile, Worth a thousand words, Can't cheer up This depressive mind. A storm bewildered, Your indecisive mind, Drowning me, In my reckless thoughts. A rainy day, A gleaming lie, A story not told, With words Nor sounds. This story is, But a mere thought, In this universe We share, Every night. This story is, A withering storm, Drifting off, In this careless soul. This story is, Not told with sounds, But a never ending blow, Of swirling emotions, Bottled up inside.Abgeschlossene Geschichte
Thoughts of a Juvenile
Words are sharper than knife they say. Yes it is true. Some perfectly moulded good words can both make and break a heart easily. A poem is a group of such perfectly moulded words given wings to fly. They fly through the mind and heart easily. A hobby is an activity we do to express ourselves, our beliefs and our thinking. For example through drawing, dancing, singing, etcetera. Writing a poem is one of such hobbies. Here words are used. These words and messages are far more twisted. A poem hits the mind, a good poem hits the heart. Thoughts Of A Juvenile is just a collection of my poems.I started writing poems when I was 8. I may not be a great writer. But yeah I write to express. There have been times for me like many other teenagers where I thought I was lost and helpless. There have been good times too. I'm standing on the edge of teenage now, telling you that you can survive this. You can survive everything. All you need is to find your strengths. There are sad nights and then there are mornings full of opportunities. Don't give up. I'm here and I'll always be here. Whenever you feel down just remind yourself "Be stupid". Go out in public and the eat the food you like alone, ask out your crush, flirt like there's no one watching, dance like a ghost has possessed your body, prank people, have a little chat with the nerds you know. Surviving is an art not many can master. Be a Master. There are mistakes in this book and I tried my best to correct them. But couldn't correct them all. I would really love to receive reviews and criticism. Vote if you like it. Comment your views. And follow for more poems. Add it to your reading list or library.Abgeschlossene Geschichte![[kodachrome]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/353007492-256-k353702.jpg)
[kodachrome]
Life is as intense as you allow it to be. Some people bring overwhelming joy; others leave wounds that never fully close. [kodachrome] is a journal born from that intensity, where healing through words becomes the only way to survive what cannot be forgotten. Rather than blurring pain into shades of gray, this collection paints it in color: memories, almost-loves, resentment, longing, and the quiet aftermath of heartbreak. Like a kodachrome photograph, each piece is vivid and emotional, preserving moments that shaped a soul in an era filled with sadness. This book contains poetry, short stories, and intimate reflections, written as an act of release, a way of forgiving without forgetting, of remembering without losing oneself. * Mostly fictional, inspired by real emotions and past experiences. 📌 Pinterest board: https://pin.it/397dQqEff
The Words I couldn't Say
This is a place for me to put all the things I wish I said but I just couldn't. These are a way for me to "say" these things without actually saying them to the person I want to. I probably won't ever go back or read any of these because it's like revisiting a bad memory so don't expect much in terms of editing. Also I wouldn't consider this poetry but it is laid out that way. WARNING Talk of depression, suicide, anxiety, and self harm. Don't read if you don't like things like that and may get triggered. I don't mean to cause anyone problems of any sort, but these are the things I feel and can't help. Please keep negativity away as this is a sensitive subject for a lot of people. Thank you. Highest rankings: 99 in sadpoems Highest rankings: 118 in iwannadieAbgeschlossene Geschichte
NOW YOU SEE," THE REAL ME" UNDER MAJOR EDITING
NOW YOU SEE "THE REAL ME" #1 IN THE SERIES OF POETRY BOOKS //SAD POETRY EDITION (under major editing) "My heart was taken by you, broken by you, and now it's in pieces because of you" My poems aren't the best. The first few poems may not seem worthy of being read but... later down in the book they get better. To some, my poems are beautiful; to some, my poems are shitty and they are rubbish💀. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! I can't promise that your time won't be wasted reading this book. I'm not a professional poet so expect the worst. This book isn't for everyone. It's sad, a little motivating and dark. If you aren't into sad poems don't read this book, it isn't for you. This book contains some of my thoughts,mostly about me or the people around me or just society in general. If you are feeling sad or depressed, please seek help. I know how much it hurts but it isn't too late to heal. Cover made on postermywall ♥*♡∞:｡.｡♥*♡∞:｡.｡♥*♡∞:｡.｡♥*♡∞:｡.｡♥*♡∞:｡.｡♥*♡∞:｡.｡♥*♡∞:｡.｡♥*♡∞:｡.｡♥*♡∞:｡.｡♥*♡∞:｡.｡♥*♡∞:｡ Rankings: #1 in sad poet out of 23 07/25/2021 #2 in deep thought out of 4. 8 K stories 07/25/2021 #2 in thoughts out of 73. 4 K stories 07/25/2021 #3 in sad poems out of 10.1 K stories 07/25/2021 #3 in thoughts and feelings out of 10.1 K stories 07/25/2021 #6 in poet out of 14.3 K stories 07/25/2021 #40 in deep out of 26.6 K stories 07/25/2021 #48 in depressing out of 18. 3 K stories 07/25/2021Abgeschlossene Geschichte
A Diary of Soul (Unedited Version)
Know Thyself - Socrates Have you ever felt like a stranger to yourself? Like you're here, but lost? Just another performing mask in a sea of faces? Another wandering being made of dust? • Finding yourself and healing amidst dark moments of life isn't the easiest experience. This journey from unfamiliarity to reconnecting with authentic self expression is what Onarietta documents in her début poetry book, A Diary of Soul. In each entry, she records new discoveries, old pains, hidden fears, joys, and hope that keeps her going, through poems and poetic prose. A Diary of Soul is a companion book for anyone that seeks to learn how to confront and comfort the dark and hurt parts of themselves. It is a guide to finding yourself and creating an identity beyond negative personal expressions and experiences. • Each part (Being, Reawakening, Refining, and Becoming) represents the ever-reoccurring cycles of growth you experience as a person, even as you learn to accept who you are, discover your potential, and grow into more authentic expressions of Self. || Original Description: A collection of poems and poetic prose. This is somewhat of a memoir. I have written these notes and poems to make you feel hope and dread, seen and heard. I have also written them to make you dream, for I shall not dream alone. I don't have nightmares...but I'm rather good at writing them. I also rant once in a while...or maybe that's what this whole book is about. I hope to sift through your head as you walk through mine. Thanks for stopping by. And please vote as you read :) - Ovokive ♡ • Started: 27.08.22 Completed: 08.03.23 • PUBLISHED!!! • Best Rankings 💗💙 #1 Poet ------------------ 01/01/23 #1 writing ---------------- 01/01/23 #1 poetrycollection -------- 03/01/23 #1 poembook -------------- 03/01/23 #2 poetry ------------------ 01/01/23 #2 thoughts --------------- 01/01/23 #2 relate -------------------- 03/01/23 #3 poems ---------------Abgeschlossene Geschichte
Journey to the Depth of my Soul ✓
❝you've been broken for long, come, let me heal you again❞ the darkest valleys of soul have been broken for long. let's burn our inner flames again, soaring so high, it makes the stars smile again. let the journey begin. bon voyage. ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ a guide for general titles: ♥ → poetry ♣ → short story/one shot ✦ → letter/notes ➤ → shorter quotes/collection of quotes ➷ → ai-generated poetries [serves as a memoir, please skip] content warning for dark themes (most of them are implied and clearly mentioned beforehand) | Featured in "Poetry Collection" of @WattpadAnthologies | ❮ cover credits: a friend made it for me long ago back in 2018 ❯ ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ highest ranking: #1 in microtale #3 in wordporn Thanks for stopping by, SaramitraAbgeschlossene Geschichte
When There Was Me And You | Part 1
You were my First Love; toxic, unhealthy for my state. But i learned Love from you; you taught me what it meant to spend nights crying at the edge of my bed and how it felt to really smile. ************************* This is a collection of poetry for one series- love, pain, toxicity, heartbreak and memory. This is the first experience at love I had. I share with you my experiences, my thoughts, my recollections, my struggle and everything I felt. If you grew up having been deprived of love and then suddenly found yourself carrying what seems like the world's amount of love for someone else- I don't doubt you won't be able to relate, at one point in this poetry book you'll find yourself in me. ******* #1 in heartstrings/43 (6th september) #3 in nostalgia (20th march) #15 in poems/5.7k (11th september) #4 in experience (30th November) #5 in journal (june 2019) #2 in deep (june 2019)Abgeschlossene Geschichte
Deadly Rhymes and Laughing Times VOL I
Short stories turned into poems for the "best of both worlds" experience. I don't relate to most of them but A LOT of people from all around do. Since we can't physically see what people are going through; at least these words are there to comfort them❤️❤️ This blog is dedicated to all of you✨ ACHIEVEMENTS:❤️❤️❤️ 1st Place winner of Poetry Category in Freedom Awards✨✨✨✨ 1st Place Winner of Poetry Category in Blue Rose Awards✨✨✨✨ 2nd Place Winner of Random Category in Wicked Awards✨✨✨✨ Winner of Best Cover in Wicked Awards 3rd Place winner of Poetry Category in Chaos Awards✨✨✨✨ 3rd Place winner of Poetry Category in The Rose Awards✨✨✨✨ A Winner in Poetry Category of EYHO Awards✨✨✨✨ Highest Ranking: #976 in Poetry #524 - 21/8 #338 - 23/8 #243 - 26/8 #220 - 7/9 #104 - 10/9 #98. - 6/11 #81. - 7/11 #68. - 12/11 #57. - 19/11 #46. - 04/12 #FrenchFriesandPopsicleSkiesAbgeschlossene Geschichte
Madness
Mind is a wonderful thing.. it's something that makes us-humans, different from one another. We all have a nose,a mouth, two hands, two feet, two eyes, one head-it's the mind inside that head that makes a difference. It's the mind that decides our character, it decides our actions, it defines our life,it's our mind that makes us love or hate something or someone. People aren't all bad or all good.. they have a touch of both but it's the mind that tricks us into loving or hating a person. Most of the times we don't actually love a person, we love the image of the person that our mind creates based on our memories with that person & same goes for the hate as well, we have bad memories with a person, we have a bad image of the person which leads to us hating that particular individual. We don't see people for who they actually are, we don't see the world for what it actually is, we merely see the image of it that our mind has created, the world for us is nothing more than an illusion. Our own personal illusion.. What's funny is that no one's ever going to know your illusion-your world as it is for you.. Despite all of the brilliant illusions that our mind creates, mind itself is the greatest creation of the mother nature. Without mind-this great tool, there would've been no cell phones, no television, no books, no music, no love, no hate, no life. nothing! But in reality, the mind is but a twisted yarn of madness. Yet every mind is great in itself. And didn't they say..? "No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness" -with love, Harika
I may just be a girl. No one special. Nothing compared to others. In the eyes of the universe, I am just a little speck of dust. My light may not shine very bright, and it may not be of any use, but I am me. Writing is my only escape out of this world. I cry rivers of ink and climb mountains of words. I may not write as well as others, but my writing is just a different style. They're my feelings. I really do hope you can connect to some of the work in here. Please, do not copy any of this work without informing me first. Thank you! "My Escape" I have a supply, In the closet near my bed, Of past memories, Hanging by a thread. A thread, Connected to my mind, That thread, Just follows me around. I have a hole, In the middle of my heart, That hole fills up, When someone's torn apart. I have a tear, Accompanying my lonely eye, Knowing, whenever I'm alone, I can sit in a corner and cry. Even though, These things are there, I still have ink, a notebook, and a pen, To care. I write and write, To my heart's desire, New feelings erupt, By the hour. Writing is, My one escape, In this cruel and careless world, I have the power, to awake. "A Story Without Words" A story told, In a little tune, A golden smile, And a shining tear, Rolling down my cheek. A little breeze, The nice sun, A marvelous day, Turned into a wet one. The memories dripped, Down on my cotton white shirt, Leaving stains, On my malicious heart. Your smile, Worth a thousand words, Can't cheer up This depressive mind. A storm bewildered, Your indecisive mind, Drowning me, In my reckless thoughts. A rainy day, A gleaming lie, A story not told, With words Nor sounds. This story is, But a mere thought, In this universe We share, Every night. This story is, A withering storm, Drifting off, In this careless soul. This story is, Not told with sounds, But a never ending blow, Of swirling emotions, Bottled up inside.
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