Wattpadpoetry cerita

Dear Diary, Today, I remembered that crowns are not made of gold. They are made of survival. They are forged from girls who were told to be quiet but learned to speak. From women who were told to be less but became more. From hearts that broke, healed, and found the courage to beat louder than before. They called her dramatic when she spoke. Difficult when she questioned. Rebellious when she refused to bow. So she picked up a pen. the Queen Diaries is not a story of princesses waiting to be saved like damsel in distress. It is a collection of poetic diary entries written by queens - queens who were never given thrones, only battles. Queens who have been silenced, underestimated, broken, healed, and reborn. Through intimate confessions, silent battles, fierce rebellions, and quiet moments of hope, these pages explore feminism, womanhood, identity, resilience, self-love, and the lifelong journey of becoming. These are not merely poems. They are confessions. They are revolutions. They are crowns woven from words. Each entry is a fragment of a kingdom built from courage. Some pages carry heartbreak. Some burn with rage. Others bloom with healing and hope. Together, they tell the story of women refusing to shrink themselves for the comfort of others and discovering that their power was never something the world could give - or take away. This is not a diary of fairy tales. It is a diary of survival. Of resistance. Of becoming. So, turn the page. You may find pieces of yourself between the lines. Because every scar is a chapter. Every voice is a revolution. Every woman is a queen. Welcome to the Queen Diaries. A queen is waiting to tell her story. Perhaps, she is you. ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: If you are reading this story on any other platform other than Wattpad you are very likely to be at risk of a malware attack. If you wish to read this story in its original, safe, form, please go to @moonlightxmysteries on Wattpad. Thank you. ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

Melancholia in Bloom For so long, I have tried to decipher what Melancholia in Bloom truly means to me. But it's a name that keeps awakening things I have long buried beneath so much that I don't know how to unlayer it. Maybe writing about it might give it more meaning and help me understand what I am holding back. But for today, that's enough. Tomorrow, words might come pouring out in stanzas and metaphors that might make better sense.

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. ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: If you are reading this story on any other platform other than Wattpad you are very likely to be at risk of a malware attack. If you wish to read this story in its original, safe, form, please go to @moonlightxmysteries on Wattpad. Thank you. ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

Pouring my life and feelings into poetry Will be releasing Sep

It's all about the poems written by me Most impressive rankings, Wattpad poetry #1 Soulsurfer. #1 Cryoatic #2

My second Edition of a variety of Poetry feelings. For all the support and encouragements you all share with me - I do humbly appreciate all that you say and do. The feeling I get when another writer comments, or votes is imperial to how I interrupt that my work has some actual capabilities of reaching out and affecting someone's day or even their own life. So, please, if you like the poetry that I've consciously poured my heart, soul and thoughts out, please, leave a comment, or vote for how much this piece or any other of my poetry has helped. If it has given you hope, acknowledgement, or just an awareness that someone, like me, knows exactly what you can go through first hand, let me see how much it affects you. Even the 'poet' needs some love shown. :) Copyright © 2016-2026 By T. A. Hinson All Rights Reserved All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Chart Achievements ____________________ New Peak: #1 🏆 [WordArt] ** New Peak: #1 🏆CrazedPoet14 New Peak: #1 🏆TAHinson New Peak: #2 🏆[Mywords] ** New Peak: #3 🏆[poetsofwattpad] New Peak: #10 [ madman]

You've spent a lifetime staring at the Forbidden Rung. I am a bit late, but let me show you what it looks like from the other side.

Life may be a complex labyrinth, but every step brings us closer to finding our true path and achieving our dreams.

this is a collection of poems and stories that wear their warning colors proudly. In nature aposematism is a signal, bright, beautiful, and toxic. Approach with caution. These poems do the same. This series of poems moves through grief like smoke and love like something you were never supposed to survive. It speaks from the soft underbelly of mental illness, spiritual awakening, obsession, dissociation, devotion, and the aching need to be understood without being consumed. Here, healing is not sanitized. The self fractures, reforms, and fractures again. Each poem is both an offering and boundary, an altar built from confession, myth, neuroscience, and soul deep intuition. This is not a guidebook. It is not a cure. It is a signal flare for anyone who has ever been told they were too much, too intense, too sensitive, or too strange. Read gently. Read honestly. Do not consume what is meant to be witnessed. DISCLAIMER: I have uploaded AI generated images as placeholders until i create some original art to go with my pieces, thank you 🖤🤍

I, Lavanya Y. Rao, have just started writing, and this poem is something very close to me. It is inspired by what I have seen from my own window-the workers I watched every morning, their quiet lives, and the thoughts that stayed with me as I watched them work. Sometimes we see people every day without ever knowing their stories. This poem is my small attempt to turn that experience into words. I hope you will read it, and if you like it, please vote and leave a comment. Your support would mean a lot to me as I begin my journey as a writer. ❤️

The Planes Above Hauz Khas is a nostalgic poem about a young girl who once believed that every airplane flying over her home carried her wishes into the sky. As she grows older, she learns the truth about where planes are going, but she never completely loses the magic of her childhood belief. It is a gentle reflection on dreams, hope, and the little things we carry with us as we grow. About the Author I, Lavanya Y. Rao, am a new and aspiring writer. I find inspiration in the simple moments and little experiences of everyday life. I wrote The Planes Above Hauz Khas after watching a plane fly above my house and imagining the wishes and dreams it might carry away with it. Through this poem, I wanted to bring back the innocence of childhood and the beautiful belief that our wishes can somehow find their way to the places where they can come true. If you enjoyed my poem, please do vote and leave a comment. I truly need and appreciate your support as a new writer. Your encouragement means a lot to me and inspires me to continue writing. ❤️

Limericks. Copyright © 2017-2024 By T. A. Hinson All Rights Reserved All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. * Achievements: *New Peak: #2 CrazedPoet14 Peak: #3 [limericks] Peak: #4 [Wordart] *New Peak: #10 TAHinson *New Peak: #15 poetsofwattpad

Sometimes, letting go of a book feels like letting go of a little piece of yourself. 📚🤍 Sana had read these books countless times. They carried memories, emotions, and little pieces of different versions of her. Giving them away wasn't easy-but she knew that making room for new stories also meant allowing these old ones to find a new home. A small poem about books, memories, and learning when to let go. 🌸📖 I'm **Lavanya Y. Rao**, a new writer who has recently started sharing my writing. ✍️❤️ If you enjoyed this poem, please do **vote and leave a comment**. Your support, encouragement, and feedback truly mean everything to me. 🥹🤍 Thank you for reading and being a part of my little writing journey. 🌷

Some things don't arrive fully formed. Some thoughts stop mid-sentence. Some feelings refuse to be named. Some hours pass without ever quite becoming anything and yet they leave a mark anyway. The Unfinished Hours is a collection of poems and scattered thoughts written in the margins of ordinary days. About the things that happen between the big moments. The quiet aches. The half-realizations. The 2am clarity that disappears by morning. No particular order. No grand conclusion. Just what was true when it was written. For the ones who think too much and feel even more.

A collection of poems, writing, music-inspired thoughts, and late-night feelings poured straight from the heart. Some pieces are soft. Some are sad. Some are about love, healing, heartbreak, memories, and the words we never got to say. This is a little corner for emotions, honesty, and the kind of thoughts that come alive when the world gets quiet. ❤️

He walked away, leaving behind nothing but memories and unanswered questions. And all she could whisper was, "Please... don't go."

Sometimes, a stranger's life touches our heart without us even realizing it. ❤️‍🩹 On a simple cab ride from Vasant Kunj to Jor Bagh, Kiara notices something small-a pair of broken glasses hanging beside the driver. What begins as an ordinary journey slowly makes her wonder about the sacrifices people quietly make for their families. She may never know where her small gesture went, but sometimes kindness isn't about knowing what happens next. Sometimes, it's simply about noticing someone who is always putting themselves last. 🌸🤍 A short poem about kindness, dignity, sacrifice, and the little things that can stay with us long after a journey ends. About the Author I'm Lavanya Y. Rao, and I've just started writing poems and stories. ❤️ Writing is something I'm slowly discovering and learning to express through, and every little bit of support means so much to me. If this poem touched your heart, please do vote and leave a comment. 🥹❤️ Your support, encouragement, and feedback truly mean everything to me. 🌸✨

I fell for the warmth that knew it wouldn't last.

Hindi poetry

The city of thorns glowed with electric sorrow.