Poems Stories

Just a bunch of random poems. I'm no poet so it's just gonna be random emotional shit and like...the way I'll be writing them is the way I actually tend to think. Kinda doing this cuz writing a poem is faster done than writing a whole ass chap so idk y'all have something to read while waiting on new chaps for one of my book.

Poems I decided to compose purely out of boredom (and also to enhance my skills in writing lowkey) Oh, and disclaimer, do not go around stealing my work and feed it to AI. I don't want that stuff happening to one of the pieces I've made and meticulously thought of. Most of these poems are based off my favorite characters, quotes, and songs, just letting ya know. Tip: Set the theme to dark mode and the fonts to times new roman for better reading experience and for da aesthetics :P (or js visually pleasing to look at) Remember, I'm still a beginner when it comes to writing, so expect some grammatical errors, typos, or mistakes along the way. None of my works may be exactly perfect (well i mean, no one is..), but I try writing it with certainty as much as possible. Cover: Mizuki Akiyama from Project Sekai by @haliya* on x/twit

🥀#1 IN FAE RISE SAGA🥀 "I need to ask you honestly. Who are you? What are you?" "......All that matters is that I am here now." Shy, homeschooled teenage girl Lisa Corothy, prefers to live a quiet life surrounded by books and cats. But when she attends a weekly homeschool co-op, her plans go astray. Because of another attendee named Puck. Puck is the walking biohazard of charisma and danger Lisa never wanted. Until she discovers he is what she has been looking for. As Lisa digs deeper into Puck's background, she begins to put herself in danger for reasons only Puck knows. And he becomes the only one that can protect her. Because he is 'one of them'. And by them, I mean the Faeries. Meanwhile, Lisa's older sister Alexandra tries to recover from a painful breakup, and is determined to let God write her love story. Could a socially awkward Romanian boy be the answer to her prayers?

This is for everyone who's healing from love. If you find yourself suffering from heartbreak, loss of a loved one, grief, a situationship or trying to get over someone, this is for you. I hope you can find a little bit of peace in these poems . <3

──────── ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ──────── Some feelings are never meant to be spoken out loud. They simply sit inside you and make a home in the corners of your heart. 𝗗𝐢𝐥 - 𝐞 - 𝐑𝐚𝐚𝐳 was written in that quiet corner. This poetry collection contains eight poetic Urdu verses written in the hope of being written to. It encaptured the feeling of unrequited feelings, passionate denial and irreversible limerence. Urdu is my mother tongue. And when there were poetries inside me that the English couldn't truly hold, my heart decided to bleed words in Urdu. However, I have included the English Translation of each poem for my non-Urdu speaking readers. I have tried to imitate the effect of each poem in English too. A section is dedicated to the vocabulary used in every poem for clarity. I hope you enjoy reading this work as much as I enjoyed bringing it to life. And I hope you fall in love with how different languages can encapture multitudes of similar emotions in just a few words. ──────── ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ────────

(Age of Replacement Book I) In an ancient world taken over and partitioned by an intelligent civilization of monsters, a young boy in Baghdad soughs to take revenge for his family from Parvazira , The civilization's "Reverend One" , who has genocidal ambitions of her own in the name of religion.

Poetry. It does not wash away my grief, but it understands it. It does not bounce on my ideas; it enriches them with its beautiful words. Poetry: I have lived in it more than I have lived in Life itself. But Life is beautiful, and I have time. ___________________________________________________________________ A collection of poems. Inspired by many famous books, thoughts of my own, and things that are unspoken for.

🌸❯────「🌸」────❮🌸 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬. 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬. What began as a chessboard became a garden-of grief and laughter, faith and forgetting. Of fathers who never sat on thrones. Of men holding the wrong flowers on blind dates. Of a lab explosion and a Marble Queen shaking her head. Across eleven poetic forms-𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚, 𝐤𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞, 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐮, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞-𝟑❃ 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 is not one story but thirty windows into the same human heart. Some open onto darkness. Some onto dawn. Some onto beauty you didn't know you were allowed to name. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬. For readers who recognize themselves in the specific, the restrained, and the resolutely alive. 𝐕𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐕𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐨 🌸2026🌸 🌸❯────「🌸」────❮🌸

Volume four of 2026. Poetry and Inner turmoil. My way of giving the voices inside my head a chance to speak for themselves. No AI. No AI assisted. Pure human brain pain.

Poems that come to me randomly when I am not writing stories

When i am alone and my lips are quiet but mind speaking every second like my heartbeats beating to live then their are some unsaid words within.If you have something within that feels like longing for unknown,hope for understanding and finding for common,how about trying to free some caged butterflies to make your words of within fly?

Poems from the mind of a teenager, written from 2022-Present. -------------- Best Rankings: #6 in "Depressing" - 12/16/2025 #1 in "Breaking Point" - 12/16/2025 #8 in "Poems" - 4/30/2026

Ever wondered what it is like to ponder on impossible thoughts almost no one gets? That's a blessing and a curse. Something you possess can only be your weakness until you weaponize it. An empty brain is not the Devil's abode, for Devil was once the smartest angel. It takes brain to play tactful. Not an empty skull. "Everything has a meaning. But not everyone is sharp enough to see it." This is a poetry collection fueled by my unique thoughts on things most poeple miss. I'm not extraordinary. Just an individual who harbours and nurtures her somewhat different perception. If you enjoy cracking codes, or giving theories, then, this is the place for you. All theories are welcome as long as they are respectful. I'll post poetry with hints or clues towards the end. You guys can play detectives. The ones to crack the code, recieve a shoutout along with my loyal readers. Polite or constructive criticism is welcome as long as it's valid. I love improving. Hope you enjoy this journey of intellectual engagement. ♡♡♡

"The truth is mine, but I bear none to speak, To keep my mouth in shambles, my sanity to keep. Because they started rambling through the walls, they speak; They want to rot the house, to make my body meek. Hinges rust, the moths crawl through my skin, The floorboards choke on everything I've been. Father is absent, but he is quick to swear; Mother is present, but it is nothing there. Their words cut me open-they carve me precise, Alcohol's the sinner; sinning is the vice. The mold in the corners-it has learned my name, It breathes when I breathe, it thinks I'm the same. The mold takes my breath; the walls start to bend, While the judge, my Father, tells me to repent."

just a bunch of letters i'd never send-

just the continuation of the first poem book

poems posted when emotions are too much for my body. Wether you like it or not is up to you. i was told to post them one day , so that's what i'm doing. they are pretty dark most of the time. if you're still reading , i hope you know there is always someone out there that's here for you. And we may not know each other , but i'm proud of you, for opening your eyes today and keeping on going. you'll find your spark again one day. You are unique, make your life at your image. disclaimer : i'm french, so there may be french poems or mistakes in my poems, please forgive me for that

shed thoughts, shitty metaphors.

What happens when the world goes quiet, but your mind doesn't? 𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄 isn't a story. It's a series of moments, the kind you don't talk about in daylight. The kind that sit with you when the room is dark, when the clock is too loud, when sleep refuses to be kind. These poems don't ask to be understood. They ask to be felt. From fragile beauty hidden in unexpected places, to silent battles no one sees, to thoughts that linger somewhere between breaking and becoming, this collection moves like the night itself-soft, restless, and a little unforgiving. Some poems will feel like comfort. Some will feel like confrontation. And some will feel like they were written from a place you've been trying to avoid. Read it slowly. Or don't. The night doesn't rush. And neither do the truths waiting inside it.

english poetry collection. ⋆˚☾˖° ©yvilique