Writeundertheinfluence - Tumblr Posts

Stood By The Window

She stood by the window

Breeze swaying the blinds to a rhythm

Waiting for an escape that never came

The labyrinth enervating her passion and light

The dull January evening that filtered everything to dreariness

She stood by the window, her life felt frozen in time

Stuck on a rock that wouldn’t let her move on

Weathered though she may be

She knew the rock couldn’t forever stay forever inviolable

For the thunder crashes the rock and wind blows the arenaceous grime away

Today marks a year since I've started this blog. I'm thrilled to express my appreciation to all the wonderful people I've met here.

Last Feb 1st, I had little idea where this poetry writing pursuit would lead to but then that's art. We do it because we love it, no matter where it leads us.

Over the year, so much has changed yet some things stayed the same like they always do. Through it all, there has been so much support from the community of poets, writers and artists. I hope we keep supporting each other this way.

This blog is open to prompts, collaborations and is a safe space ♡

Love,

The Creaky Writer

Run Down The Hill

Sweet tinge of petrichor from the freshly mown grass

Our shoes squelching the wet mud as we run

We run down the hill, not a care in the world

Wind whipping the face, a fresh cut feeling

Your laughter and my cloistered joy heavy in the air

In the moment, we get lost, lost like lights in the starry sky

We run down the hill, not a care in the world

Hearts beating fast like the beat to our music

Hyaline handcuffs melting away in the bright sun

Days spent like they’re halcyon in ages to come

We run down the hill, not a care in the world

Dreaming the wildest dreams, looking at the sky for limit

Anticipation

Days spent in a haze

With anticipation the hours glaze

Along with the hurrying wind

Racing and hurtling with adventure it brimmed

Nearing the nightfall and a thousand moments later

The midnight sea roars as it does with ardor

Sleepless nights and starless skies

A void showing the deepest possibilities that belie

-The Creaky Writer

Control

I had a dream

I was learning to drive

The steering in their hand

The accelerator under their foot

Only the illusion of driving under my control

“You try on your own”, I was told

So I gird up to master the wheel

When I see I’m not taking the road I want to at the speed I wish to,

I look down

The steering in their hand

The accelerator under their foot

Only the illusion of driving under my control

The deception goes on till what feels like ages

My mind starts to rot from disuse

My arms almost give up from pretending to steer

My mouth is tired from asking to let go

So I swerve

I swerve a dangerous left without a warning

Just to see if it breaks the monotony

-The Creaky Writer

Strum Of The Strings

There goes the melody

That tugs at the strings of hearts

Craves the companionship of nobody

A beckoning of the calm it imparts

With backs bent double over stress

And mind laden with worry

A note to elate from the distress

Disguised as melancholy’s place of bury

As the sweet tantalizing of the strum

Promises tunes soothing to the soul

No matter what tongue it comes from

So competent of making a part whole

An ocean of emotion you may feel

A thousand feelings to the forth it brings

To hear and to heal

There’s nothing you can’t express with the strum of the strings

Two Cloaked Figures

Two cloaked figures at the end of the street

Sneaking and lurking in the dark of the moonless night

Beware of their nimble hands, lest there be knives in their robes



How would we know they don’t possess knives but only scars?

Scars from their bondage and resistance, hollow trust enveloping like second nature

A path to choice they seek, to a free nowheresville and to life



Two cloaked figures at the end of the street

Sneaking and lurking in the dark of the moonless night

Beware of their fiery spirits and eager appetites



I would know that they’d steal your hearts and make you want to fly

Two cloaked figures at the end of the street

Two lives inspiring hundreds, if only we would see

-The Creaky Writer

A Melancholy Ache

This small corner of the world

Giving me a chance to step into an another

That's all I've ever wanted

And yet this melancholy ache I feel

All these friends have moved on

And I'm still behind trying to reach the cliff

Will the cliff be my flight or fall?

The questions keep me awake and fragile

And the expectations pull me into a slumber

Didn't see it coming, loved where it was going

Those doors I never had the key for were unlocked

How do I close them back now that you took away the key when you left?

I am a rock in most weathers, for me and everyone else

But there comes once in a season shift and I fall apart albeit for a moment

In that vulnerability lies what I wish to conquer

A chance to step into another world, for better or for worse

I want to find out

She's Not Your Enemy

I see through glistening eyes the way you look at her

Like she’s an unleashed monster setting fire to your treasure

I hear through the creaks in my door, what you say to her

The words she is used to, tear my heart asunder

The daggers of hatred shooting from your eyes in this battue

The poisonous spite you spit molding her waxy heart ever since she saw you

She’s not your enemy, yet in her tolerance is an expanse of battleground you find

She’s not your enemy, yet you purge her of the sins that exist in your mind

This is shattering my heart and soul as I ask your anger, “Where are you from?”

She’s not your enemy, yet your treatment of her weighs on my peace when I do anything to becalm

Meet Me In Every Universe

If I can't say it ever, I'll say it now in this verse

Please meet me in every other universe

Even if fate obstructs the path in its crowning

Take my hand, stop me from drowning

You said it feels like family when you spend long enough time

I knew it in my heart your song and mine rhyme

I send out my prayers into the cosmic thread

That unites us in a timeless pool of rearranging emotions unsaid

Our silences have the loudest nostalgia

We sit among words that spell so much that ease my dysphoria

If I can't say it ever, I'll say it now in this verse

Please meet me in every other universe

Winded Path

Walking down the winded path I am aware of the race I’m running, like a dog of its master's death My feet hoped to piroutte to the song of the ocean Now they trudge on rocks that do not bear my name

Speedsters pass by me, leaving me in dust I worry that I won't feel the pelagic melody again, then I go back to my ways I whelve away my poetic longing I'll hate myself for the disonnance and then rage at the world

Tell me not to go down that thought Then shove me further down that spiral I'll squander my youth dreaming of what could have been Then spend my last days resenting what was

This winded road has bartered me a mirage and for my passion Signposts mock my dull stride while I sigh at my nudnik troubles I'll squander my youth dreaming of what could have been Then spend my last days resenting what was

This is a great idea!!

reblog if you’re an active writeblr.

writersociety is a brand new blog that i’m dedicating to the writeblr community. i want writers on tumblr to connect with each other, to interact with each other, to lift each other up and inspire each other.

in short, i want to boost your blog.

from this account i’ll be reblogging author introductions, wip intros, creative writing, prose, poetry, fanfiction, short stories, writing prompts, etc., with one goal: to get you and your writeblr friends the recognition you deserve.

like this idea? follow this blog, reblog this post, and start tagging your work with #writersociety. dm me posts from your favorite blogs. send me an ask and gush about your friend’s wip. tag me under a writing resource post. get me out there, so i can return the favor.

this is for every single one of you. this is writersociety. this is just the beginning.

you don’t know how much you meant to me.

how the words that left your lips

pierced my heart,

lurking in my head for hours.

how the sweet texts you sent

are locked up in my gallery

after all these months.

i look at them sometimes,

the screenshots taking me back

to a time that may have existed,

to a version of us

that looks perfect

in the haze of nostalgia.

is that a smile or a grimace?

a bittersweet taste on my tongue.

you don’t know how much you meant to me.

that drunken voice note still haunts me.

“i love you”s whispered in the dead of the night.

hours before dawn broke;

days before your heart did too.

i'm not sorry though.

i was sick of us,

sick of running in circles,

of the loop we were stuck in,

of our never-ending endings,

one step forward, two steps back.

you were a habit I couldn’t break,

but it was time to stop.

like a wilted flower clinging to a branch,

it was time to let go.

old habits die hard,

but as the nostalgia fades,

reality slams into me in waves.

and I’m glad I never told you

just how much you meant to me.

i ignore you for months

barely sparing you a glance,

rarely acknowledging your presence.

you've been by my side for years

saying nothing

as i break parts of you,

replacing them soon enough.

And when i fall asleep on your side,

you silently let me.

allowing my fingers

to dance down your neck

playing out melodies;

tunes sung on my command.

and when i scratch at your surface

out of sheer boredom

there is not a single word of protest.

the callouses on my skin

are a small price to pay when

i leave you for months

fascinated by someone new.

you watch soundlessly

as i hold someone else in my arms;

a new temptation this week.

but you know I'll come back

and i know

that when i do,

you'll welcome me with open arms.

This is about my guitar lol

Hate your love

when you said you liked my curls,

i spent hours

straightening them out.

you complimented

the calm blue of my nails,

so i painted them a fiery red.

then the skirts left my knees bare,

unlike the denim that kept them warm

before you said i looked good in jeans.

and the day your fingers tied

the laces of my high tops,

i replaced them with stilettos,

the heels as sharp as my tongue

slipping poison onto yours.

i didn't mind when your hands

grazed the flesh of my cheek;

after all, i craved it.

i wanted your lips chasing mine,

needing to stain them

the shade of my new lipstick,

wanted the pads of your fingers leaving icy trails

down the heat of my skin.

i craved your touch,

but i resented your affection.

with every change i made,

i swore to never be

what you wanted me to.

entangled in my fabrications,

deceived by a false sense of control,

little did i know,

that you had me

exactly where you wanted me.

i couldn't recognize myself anymore

and you loved every part of me.

i want to know the answers.

the correct ones,

the perfect ones,

the ones that will stop me

from gazing up at my bedroom ceiling

as the night passes by.

i’m afraid, though.

fear crawls up my spine

soaking my skin.

i'm afraid the answer

simply doesn’t exist.

am i in the wrong place?

or an old puzzle piece

unable to fit in the right place

due to edges frayed by time.

in her cruel nature,

she snatches everything away.

like a forest fire,

unrelenting as it turns

lush green to ash grey,

nothing but mournful black land in its wake.

but we can’t blame time,

for cruelty is in her nature.

so we blame ourselves;

i blame myself

for not fitting in,

for not catching up,

for not growing and

shaping myself into the mould

of other’s expectations.

and all I can do is wait

and hope time will do it for me:

hope time will smoothen

my frayed ends

or tear them off entirely—

whatever it takes

to make this the right place;

whatever it takes

to find the perfect answer.

Colours

pink like the roses you gave me

like the blush tinting my cheeks

like my lips lifted into a smile

blue like the ribbon binding the flowers together

like the infinite sky above us

like the little birds chirping their tunes

green like the leaves of those flowers

like the soft grass beneath our feet

like that four-leaf clover;

handing you my luck

orange like the sun’s rays

streaming in through the window,

bathing everything in a warm glow.

silver like the ring encircling your finger,

like the one identical to mine

like the stars twinkling in the night sky,

when I fell asleep in your arms.

gold like the pendant glinting at my throat

unlike the promises

that you made to me,

and broke.

white like your t-shirt

before it was stained with your deceit

like the little lies you told me;

till I didn’t know what to believe

black like your wavy hair

silky to the touch

like the murky air

that’s suffocating the two of us

grey like the storm that’s been brewing

lightning striking in flashes,

like those pink roses,

the ones I burned to ashes.

Autumn

the soft pink painted sky

a backdrop

to the viridian mountains

lining the infinite horizon

behind the ochre autumn trees

whose golden leaves fly down

to kiss the solid earth

on which is perched a squirrel

shaped like the pillowy cloud

hiding the orange sun which glows

like your hazel eyes

fixed on mine

as your delicate fingers clasp

my hands gently

stroking my warm skin like

the frigid fingers of the october wind

stroke my hair

blowing around when

you reach out and

tuck the dancing strands

behind my ear and

the silky sound of your laughter

tickles my heart

causing my own to escape

past my lips against which

you press your own

to swallow the sounds

before they get lost in

the soft pink painted sky.

Let go

i want to let go

let go of everything

that's keeping me closed.

i want to untie the knot and unravel the rope

wrapped tight around my body

holding captive

everything that i am.

it tightens further,

squeezing my insides

until my feelings are stuffed into my organs

and my arteries threaten to burst

and bleed blue.

all the frustration tucked into

the nooks and crannies,

coerced out of my heart,

leaving the vessel hollow.

and now it just screams to be filled.

i want to let go and explode,

uncaring of the consequences.

i want to crush

under the soles of my shoes

the titles and expectations

like i did my dreams

for they were 'unrealistic'.

assurances of 'you're still young'

don't comfort me.

let me be young then.

let me be reckless like the rain

as i watch from the safety of my window.

let me live like a storm

that wreaks havoc in a few hours,

the aftermath echoing for years.

i want to be unpredictable

like the weeping clouds that turn

the clementine sky gunmetal grey.

i want to let go.

do i love him or his kisses?

butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

dusting my cheeks with a blush.

do i love him or his compliments?

words pouring over me like silky sweet honey.

cascading down in a delicate melody.

do i love him or his hugs?

warmth spreading through my chest

like a beam of sunshine.

wrapping me up in a cozy blanket.

do I love him or his whispered secrets?

smooth voice leaving a trail

of goosebumps along my skin.

trusting me;

a key securing a lock

do I love him or his hands

clasping mine tightly,

fingers entwined,

murmuring a promise.

do i love him?

or do i love the way he makes me feel?