Jus' Poetic Thoughts

hope, spent in silence—  reclaiming expectations quiet place untouched — a poet 24 June 2025 Photography Credits © Supnroawip Karmakar  🇮🇳 Source : INSTAGRAM @s upnroawip_karmakar [THOUGHTS of PROSE] Disappointment doesn’t just sting; it bankrupts the soul. It’s what’s left when you’ve wagered everything on hope, spent your last emotional coin on a dream, and come up empty. You gave your heart to the light, trusted the promise, believed in the maybe… and now, all that remains is a cold silence and the echo of what could’ve been. Expectations are costly. Each one leaves a mark. And when enough of them collapse, they don’t just bruise you; they hollow you. Sometimes, I want to vanish. Not forever, just far enough. To some quiet place untouched by people and their promises. A place where I can finally breathe. Where I can gather the scattered pieces of my hope. And reclaim what expectations almost stole from me: Myself ! [INSPIRATION] "Disappointment is a so...

Cries without a name— Painful silence that threatens raw release of truths — a poet 18 June 2025 Artist Credits © JNM 🇺🇸 ` a poet ` Digital Art W/ Painterly Effect Textured Background Source : ™a Mind's Eye Year: 2025 [THOUGHTS of PROSE] Before the world asked me to be anything, before it tried to press names upon my chest or drape me in titles like they were earned through repetition, I was a poet. Not in the polished sense, not with laurels or applause, but with the quiet violence of someone who bleeds into the page.  I have scrawled my gratitude, my grievances, my ghosts across paper as if they were scripture —the raw release of my truths. There’s no glory in it. No applause when your hands shake from remembering. But there’s a hollowing, searing euphoria that hits the moment ink scars paper and something inside you unknots. That moment when silence breaks into language, when pain finds a shape, even if the shape is jagged. That’s the quiet, feral burn I speak o...

A silence thickens — time erodes without purpose nothingness lingers — a poet 10 June 2025 Artist Credits © Kris Gebhardt United States 🇺🇸 "Wherever Life Takes You" Painting, Acrylic on Wood Year: 2022 Source : SAATCHI ART [THOUGHTS of PROSE] As a silence thickens , meanings dissolve into the routine of time that passes without calling. Where there was once something, but now, only remnants,  shadows without emotions occupy that space of well intentions. The mind lingers, but without intent. It does not seek, does not question, only watches as the silence thickens, as endings fold into themselves.  No chaos, no renewal, only the slow, indifferent decay  of what no longer matters, o nly the slow, careful surrender of meaning. A drift into apathy, as if the soul has learned to exhale and then forgotten to breathe again. [INSPIRATION] "Apathy doesn't scream. It just waits - in silence." — @ before22aday      TikTok This piece was ...

A silent murmur — echos from within, reveals cries of reckoning — a poet 3 June 2025 Artist Credits © Darcy Saxton United States 🇺🇸 "Disjointed Thoughts" Painting, Acrylic on Canvas Year: 2016 Source : SAATCHI ART [THOUGHTS of PROSE] A storm does not ask for permission before it eclipses the sky. It rises, swells, and writhes , with an unrelenting pulse of chaos. So it is with the mind, when unspoken truths collides with ghost of yesteryear . A soul in insurrection is not easily quieted. It smothers the spirit, demanding a reckoning, breaking against the silent reach of a mind's lingering pull .  This tempest from within will always be waged in the suffocating dark, within the mind, as a reckoning of indecision, where light flickers but does not yet blaze. Ignorance, not for lack of knowledge, but for lack of clarity, for the unwillingness to turn inward and face what has long been stirring.  The echoing void, then, is not merely noise but motion, the...

I am but a fractured spirit, a warrior amidst the ruins of a life once vivid and whole. Lately, my  ponderance reveals a world that I once knew has now drifted into a distant isolation. The year of anew has summoned a different awakened fatigue, a drain with an unseen weight that now erodes the bonds with all that once mattered. Within this shadowed isolation, I find my sanity quietly devouring, with fragments scattered by illusions of my own making. In those unguarded moments of insecurity, the apparition of my own end ascends with a cruel uncertainty, disturbing the way I yearn to be. I crave nothing more than to resurrect the man I once knew, a warrior of unyielding strength,  passion and resilience. Somewhere, in the endless tides of time, that self worth was been faulted, leaving behind a weakened soul and a tired old man. This m erciless aging thing, has been far from a graceful progression, it's just been a bitter reminder of a lost youth, the c ontradictory refra...

Spilled Ink unbridled—  fractured chaos shapes a void unfiltered symbols — a poet 27 May 2025 Artist Credits © Mersolis Schöne Austria 🇦🇹 "When the poem said, I write myself through the sound of the world" Year: 2023 Drawing: Charcoal, Ink, Graphite, Crayon and Stamp on Paper Source : SAATCHI ART [THOUGHTS of PROSE] Each line, an artistic impression is more than just a mark, it's a conversation between thought and form, a silent translation of the mind's depths. Each stroke free of restraint, not following a preordained path but instead emerging in raw, instinctive gestures, revealing fragments of emotion, memory, and a fleeting contemplation. There is no confinement here, no need for clarity, only the unfiltered essence of introspection; fluid, bold, and undefined. Breathing with intention yet remaining open to interpretation, an evolving mirror of thought taking shape without unfiltered symbols, simply a canvas of fractured chaos, shaping a void...