價格：免費
更新日期：2019-07-01
檔案大小：5.9M
目前版本：2.4
版本需求：Android 4.0.3 以上版本
官方網站：mailto:support@eshaladnan.com
Email：https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ADj7OBX-VT2AHKIw7HCymlnWHFCS8I6bQSe4t6BD62w/
meraki /μεράκι/
(n.)
When you leave a piece of yourself (your soul, creativity, or love) in your work. When you love doing something, anything, so much that you put something of yourself into it.
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begun: April, 2019.
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Romeo's mind was in limerence with his friable fate but he stole the warmth of his name leaving each of it's syllable cold like the blue lips of a beggar, the same coldness accompanied him to his grave for he tried to give his name a purpose when your name gives you a purpose. That's the plethora of power each one of names hold for they reek the pain our ancestors have reaped and pinned on their clothes like gold medals.
My name Eshal, a brick of the blue mosque, stands today for it resembles a flower of lissome heaven. For you this might just seem as a part of bizarre light imagery but it makes me spill poetry on long nights to attract birds to carry away my pollen so I have new flowers to bloom on the soil of my somber loneliness.
My loneliness which replaces my heartbeat when I fall into everlasting evanescence in a crowd of familiar faces where I cannot communicate. I try but I cannot for something sticky and poignant like honey clogs my throat, but it never jams the ink of my pen, for my pen is full of my thoughts to the brim and my pen is a passageway. A passageway which doesn't succor sickeningly sweet wonders to choke the snakes hissing inside my heart, but a passageway through which my thoughts are exhaled onto paper amongst stains of caffeine.
A few verses by Slyvia Plath make me ponder about what is right and wrong until the lovely mirage I run after disappears before I gave into my aching knees and fall into a state of oblivion. It makes me ponder over things as little as the sugary kiss of a honeybee, the sound of a sad windflower, the bliss inside glistening tangerines, and so many other things which make me feel.
I begun writing poetry when I was eight because I loved the sound of mellifluous rhymes rolling off my tongue like soap. As a child, I used to write about love, roses, my family for poetry was a way to express my gratitude but as I become time's pawn, I become my aunt who never liked the way I dressed and then killed all the girls who belittled me, and after I burnt down my house I killed myself thrice, in my poems. I was driven purely by my emotions which change as suddenly as the arrival of unexpected guests.
My poetry was only for myself but slowly inspired by other poets I decided to share it on social media platforms and received positive reviews, which weren't that many but meant a lot to me, for if my voice is unheard now, it won't be forever, I will live forever in my poems like Vangogh lives forever in his paintings and Slyvia still appears on one of the leaves of my fig tree.
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Features:
✵ Regular Poems
✵ The poems are categorized under the titles:
⋆ Short Poems
⋆ Regret
⋆ Love
⋆ Lollipop- an anecdote
⋆ Random
⋆ Faith
⋆ Hatred
⋆ Sadness
⋆ Confusion
⋆ Wonder
⋆ Happiness
✵ Registered users can comment on anything at all unless they try to spread negativity
✵ Each poem will be find with a picture which mostly are my own drawings but some, including the ones used for categories are taken from Pinterest or Tumblr.
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If you want to interact with me, contact me through:
✵ instagram: eshaladnan_
✵ gmail: supporteshaladnan.com
✵ Wattpad: POLAROIDPXNCIES-
