Un demonio te tira y te humilla y un ángel te recoge y te cura las heridas, como es la vida...
The pitter, patter of cherished feet,
angels returned before their time,
shadows that no longer cast a light,
beneath the feet,
of loved ones left behind.
Worshippers sat amongst worshipped lovers,
each hymn and verse,
an eternal struggle,
nothing good is allowed to last forever,
it withers like a rose unearthed.
‘Gone too soon’ - James McInerney
Instagram / Twitter @millsmc07
Dear Drew Bartkiewicz,
I appreciate so much your words.
Lettrs has been the door for meeting interesting people.
I hope this app can reach more people every day.
Thank you for allowing me to be part of the lettrs' family.
Happy Monday everyone!
Today I pose a quick question for all the Lettrs users out there - What made you choose Lettrs?
Please leave your answers in the comment section, I look forward to reading them!
‘THE ROSE THAT BLED’
...that time of the year for us to be strangers. And what are strangers but souls with elusive degrees of forbearance and love. Lonesome as a mote, defeated by rainy spectrum. Running away from connections, strange existence of ours swims in the copious, embracing the life within.
No doubt, I see people residing on the deranged feet of the despicable and hate, dejected and smiling. The course of vanity masking faces, mocked and bedazzled by fools who never knew love. Pressing a flawed meaning in the purple crevices of bitten palms and toxic throats, look how the fallen gloats.
Be it a sin to puncture love, all its name and all its nerve. Interpolate decadent holes in ...
Freedom is what happens when we don’t think about scarcity but about abundance - not of material things but of timeless pleasures like the present day.
What would you give to live in a free state? Even if freedom meant carrying a few less things on your back...
Agar lagatar log aapse dur jaa rahay hai aur aap naye logo ko jod jod kay pareshan hai to apnay aapme badlaaw laaye kya pata galti unnme nahi aapkay anndar he hai kahi na kahi mere dost ..!!
‘To Love, With Love. (To that idea, that notion, that feeling, that persuasion, the tender and the unseen.)’
Dear Love, wherever you are, don’t approach me when I am at my healthiest. When my feet are tasting the gravels of the primrose path. When the strands of hair on my head are waving goodbye to the windy tides behind this vivacious body. When these eyes are swelling up by the blushing of the cheeks. Don’t carry me forth when you see me prancing across the prairies of cherubic and befitting friends; the dissecting roads, the sleepy buds waiting to be jolted awake on a winter morning, the voices of primordial birds with their lively cries, the blissful architectural wonders and establishm...
The essence of women is the origin of life, the elegance of love and the energy of passion. The power of women is mysterious and involved, inviting and defined.
Women possess a 6th sense to know what we are thinking, without ever showing they are listening. What strong man has never fallen for the wonder of a woman?
It is that wonder - that depth of mystery - that makes life so much more...
‘3 A.M. EPIPHANY’
His body had come in contact with the cold floor of the stage but the mind, oh the mind, it was still dancing. He could see and feel the lightning mockery of the ceiling above trying to stifle him with those weary and blinding curtains, those red, velvety and scornfully thick dejections at the seams with fleeting breaks and folds. The audience had migrated to somewhere else, to a faraway land much more better, promising and of incantation. The stage was indeed blind. Disheartened. Dispirited. What was left of it were the flimsy and particularly minute grains of cold dust and bouts of despair. Something that mustn’t have been present boisterously on the floor. Or more precis...
It's good to be back here on lettrs, after they fixed my problem! I've missed it a lot... It's time to start all over again!
The idea that women are inferior to men is absurd. When a man is born of a woman, how can he be superior and she inferior?
Being afraid of my own mother, she has a darkened mind.
Being afriad she'll hurt me,
More afraid she's going to hurt herself.
Being afraid of her mind all it that it can do, her reality it doesn't fit mine.
Theres a stranger inside.
To see the hatred in her eye's, their dark and mean.
They can look at me with pride.
Being afraid of her voice, the vicious words she spits.
She can use words of wisdom.
Being afraid of the day the darkness will settle like a mist over our house,
when will it come?
How long will it last?
Will this time be the time my mother doesn't make out of her darken mind?
-MOTHER, DARKENED MIND.
In a world full of lights and sounds and flashes, you are a part of something that makes people slow down, consider, tap into their own genius and create.
The frailty of geniuses and artists, however, is that they need an audience to be seen and understood. Lettrs is a hidden gem; a haven to those bold and tortured souls who long to be heard and seen.
It is a canvas for the hearts of those whose lips have faltered and failed at their task of expression and whose lives have left them longings unfulfilled. It is a place where truth is wrapped up in the tapestry of prose; even pain is redressed for the occasion and becomes beautiful.
Thank you for fostering a meeting of the minds ...
Day three in a row of writing on here to you lovely people with limited interactions, barring that of the lettrs staff... thank you guys though, this is an incredible platform. But I have no given up hope to interact with you guys.
On another note, I wrote a poem in my poetry journal yesterday abd realized it had been nine years since I had last written a poem. It was interesting to see how I have changed and evolved my style of writing in those years!
I love all of you very much and hope you are all doing well!
I ended a friendship yesterday..
It feels as if I shattered my own reflection by looking Into his.
A mirror works both ways but only mine bears the cracks 😪..:
I’ve always had your back
Even though you never
Days gone by
To The Person I’ve Considered My Life,
The day you came into my life, I told myself I would love you for the rest of my life, never gonna hurt and never ever leave you. You were my best friend, my brother and my everything. I was so deeply in love with you. It feels like it was a never ending happiness for me.
Until one day, you said, “I don’t want to hurt you but I need to tell you this. We need to break up, I still love her.”
I refuse to believe at first, I never thought that you would do that to me, but when I heard your voice telling your sorry, tears fell down my cheeks. I was begging you to stay and never leave me, but you said it would be better if I let go of you.
I was to...
‘I FEEL ALIVE AND I LOVE IT THAT WAY’
Someone loves me, and that’s me
Through endless days and teenage nights
That is all I want, that is what I see.
Deep down a voice speaks
But can I hear it?
No. From cherry silence it leaks.
As these cold stars shoulder my heart.
There is a voice I hear while I dream,
it speaks of nothing
let alone scream.
Embracing a silent vanity.
It walks and waddles, through the boulevard of endlessness.
Rest, dear voice, for you have to work on that speechlessness.
These fingers wish to conquer smoke and perdition,
Galloping along serene liveliness.
Thrust some love, thrust some love,
Or watch agony shower from above.
But oh dear life, I’ve got you,
Motivational bate bas padhnay me aachi lagti hai...!!
Asliyat jab khud par padti hai to fatt kay 4 hojati hai..!!
Every other day in life, is a chance
Make the best out of it
It is not to regret the choices you’ve made
The path you’ve not taken, is the experience you’ve gained
The choice you did make, is the experiment you’ve understood
Now, jus make the next move
Every day is a chance for new experiences & new experiments
After everything, only the journey is in your hands, not the destination
Make the journey beautiful..