Ballad
Between the Lines of Rain —
Rain has always carried a language of its own. For some, it is music, a lullaby for weary souls. For others, it is grief, the sky weeping when words are too heavy to speak. For me, rain has always been a mirror—reflecting not only the world outside but also the storms within.
By Nadeem Shah 5 months ago in Poets
The Language of Falling Leaves
Introduction: When the Trees Begin to Speak Every autumn, when the air turns crisp and the trees begin to shed their leaves, the world transforms into a living poem. Golden, crimson, and amber leaves dance through the air before resting gently on the ground. To many, it’s just a seasonal shift. But if you listen closely, you’ll hear something deeper — the language of falling leaves.
By Nadeem Shah 5 months ago in Poets
Echoes of a Silent Heart
Introduction: The Sound of What We Never Say Silence has its own language. It lingers in the spaces between words, in the pauses where our hearts ache but our voices fail. A silent heart does not mean an empty one—it means a heart that carries longing so heavy it cannot always be spoken aloud.
By Nadeem Shah 5 months ago in Poets
The Hour of a Poet's Heart
The Hour of a Poet’s Heart It was 6:00 a.m. when the first golden thread of sunlight slipped through the windowpane, curling like smoke onto the old wooden desk. The poet sat alone, wrapped in the silence of morning, a mug of steaming tea warming his hand, and a fresh page before him. Outside, the world was still rubbing the sleep from its eyes. A sparrow fluttered to the windowsill, tilting its head as if curious about the words that might fill the paper. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a kettle whistling, a dog barking, a door opening—all faint echoes of a waking world. But here, in this quiet room, time seemed to slow down. He looked around the space—the familiar desk, smooth with years of use; the clock ticking gently on the wall; the bookshelf heavy with poems, letters, and musings of those who came before. A soft breeze nudged a few amber leaves onto the floor through the slightly open window. This hour belonged to him—an hour where the mind softened and the heart spoke clearly. He dipped his pen into ink and began to write. Not about sorrow or loss, not about people or faces or fleeting love. Today, he wrote of presence. Of light. --- “Let morning not be a routine, But a ritual. Let the sun not simply rise, But return with purpose. May silence not be empty, But full of listening.” --- He paused, letting the words settle into the paper. He watched as the steam from his tea danced gently upward, fading into nothing. A candle flickered beside the notebook, casting a warm circle of gold over his hand. This was the kind of peace that couldn’t be chased. It arrived when you stopped running. His thoughts wandered, not far, but wide. He thought of trees—how they stood patiently, rooted and quiet, teaching something without ever saying a word. He thought of rivers—always moving, yet never rushing. He thought of language itself, how it curved like the hills, how a single line of poetry could open a sky inside a person. He smiled. This wasn’t a day for fame or applause. This wasn’t a day for plans or performances. It was a day for breathing, for noticing, for writing not what others expected but what the soul whispered. The poet turned the page. --- “May we learn from the leaf, How to fall with grace. From the stone, How to stay strong without shouting. And from the dawn, How to begin again— Quietly, gently, every day.” --- The sparrow chirped once and flew away. The clock ticked on. He sipped his tea and let the warmth fill him. He thought of all the people out there—rushing, scrolling, searching. He wished he could send them this hour, wrap it in paper and tie it with light. A gift of stillness, of small wonders. He looked around again, this time with a deeper gratitude. The cracked mug, the ink stains on the desk, the gentle creak of the old chair—each detail a poem in itself. Nothing perfect. Everything beautiful. By 6:45, the light had shifted. The sun now painted golden rectangles on the floor. He could hear footsteps outside, the day beginning in earnest. But still, the hour wasn’t over. He turned to the last page in his notebook and, with a steady hand, wrote a final verse. --- “Do not rush the moment. Do not race the dawn. The poet’s heart beats quietly, But it echoes long after The pen is laid down.” --- The candle flickered once more before going out. At exactly 7:00 a.m., he closed the notebook and stood. The room now brimmed with soft morning light. The world was calling, as it always did—but this time, he was ready. Because in that one hour, without noise, without crowds, without anything but a desk, a window, and the open sky, he had remembered something important: That peace is not found. It is made. Word by word. Hour by hour. Heart by heart.
By Muhammad Saad 5 months ago in Poets
Whispers of the Heart: The Timeless Beauty of Love Poetry
From ancient stone tablets to modern Instagram posts, love poetry has always found a way to speak to the human heart. In every culture and every language, people have written verses to express the most profound of all human emotions—love. But why does love poetry endure, even in an age of quick texts and fast connections? Love, after all, is both universal and deeply personal. It’s one emotion that can bring together strangers across time and space. When someone reads a love poem written centuries ago and still feels moved, that’s the magic of poetry—its power to transcend time, to preserve emotions, and to whisper truth from one heart to another. A Journey Through Time Some of the earliest love poems come from ancient Sumeria, carved into clay tablets more than 4,000 years ago. Even then, people were trying to capture that fluttering feeling in words. In Egypt, lovers composed verses filled with longing and admiration, comparing their beloveds to stars and flowers. In ancient India, the “Gita Govinda” celebrated divine love with sensual and spiritual poetry, while in China, the “Book of Songs” collected folk poems filled with tenderness and yearning. Across the world, cultures independently turned to poetry as a way to say what couldn’t be said any other way. Then came the great romantics of the world: Rumi with his spiritual longing, Shakespeare with his sonnets, Pablo Neruda with his passionate declarations. They gave voice to love in all its forms—joyful, aching, patient, and wild. Why Poetry Speaks So Deeply Unlike ordinary speech, poetry distills feeling into rhythm, metaphor, and music. A simple line like “I love you” becomes, in Neruda’s words, “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” That’s what makes love poetry so powerful. It says the same things we all feel—but in a way that’s beautiful, timeless, and unforgettable. Reading or writing love poetry can be healing. It helps people express emotions they may not fully understand. It allows lovers to communicate deeper feelings than a simple “I miss you” or “You’re special.” And for those who’ve lost love or are waiting for it, poetry can bring hope and peace. Modern Love, Eternal Words Today, love poetry is still alive—and thriving. You can find it on greeting cards, in wedding vows, on social media, and in bestselling books. Poets like Rupi Kaur, Lang Leav, and Atticus have made poetry popular again, especially among young people. But what’s beautiful is that anyone can write love poetry. You don’t need to be Shakespeare. You just need to be honest. One woman, Maya, started writing poems for her husband when they were dating. Years later, she compiled them into a small book as an anniversary gift. Her poems weren’t famous, but they captured their love story—and that made them priceless. Teaching Us How to Love More than just expressing love, poetry teaches us how to love better. It reminds us to slow down, to notice the details, to cherish the small moments. When you read a poem about someone watching their partner sleep, or walking hand in hand through the rain, it encourages you to do the same. To notice. To feel. To be present. Love poetry celebrates tenderness in a world that often rushes past it. It reminds us that love isn’t always loud or dramatic—it can be soft, patient, and enduring. A Poem for Every Heart Whether you’re deeply in love, healing from heartbreak, or dreaming of someone you’ve yet to meet, there’s a love poem out there that speaks for you. Try reading Rumi when you feel a spiritual longing. Neruda, when you want passion. Emily Dickinson, when you’re exploring quiet affection. Or write your own—just a few lines from your heart can become a lifelong treasure. In a world filled with noise, love poetry offers quiet beauty. In a time of distraction, it offers presence. And in moments of doubt, it offers hope. Because love, like poetry, never goes out of style. And the heart will always find a way to speak—sometimes, through a whisper in verse.
By Muhammad Saad 5 months ago in Poets
