Ballad

A Dialogue Between Poetry and the Pen
A Dialogue Between Poetry and the Pen The poem sighed, tired of the pen, Complaining, "Why this coldness and pain?
By Ali Sadeek Ahmedabout a year ago in Poets
Verses in the FROST
Dear frost, you arrive in the quiet of night, Draping the world in your shimmering white. But it’s not just the cold that you bring to the air, It’s a whisper of beauty, fragile and rare.
By Melanieabout a year ago in Poets
Jack's Happy Cookies
Let me tell you a tale of an evening not that long ago When Jack Frost came over for a winter’s jaunt To party with me under the Beaver moon’s glow
By Mother Combsabout a year ago in Poets
Whispers of Frost.
Beneath a veil of silvered light, Winter whispers in the quiet night. The moon, a lantern, hangs so low, Casting shadows on the fields below.
By Jeanetteabout a year ago in Poets
Butter in the Bush
Christmas comes but once a week When the chopper brings the grub. The cooks ordered five sticks of butter. The gaffer heard five tubs.
By Chris Yandaabout a year ago in Poets
I am a human
Who am I, And who shall I be? It is said of me, as I am named in the heavens, that I am the human being. I am the human being, the one whose creation was perfected by the Merciful.
By Ali Sadeek Ahmedabout a year ago in Poets
Whispers of Beauty
"Whispers of Beauty" I fell in love with beauty, From the cradle, it shone upon me truly. I saw it around, in my white attire, In my reflection, and my heart's desire.
By Ali Sadeek Ahmedabout a year ago in Poets
chasity
my darling, my darling don’t fall for their charms wait out three years before you fall into their arms . the one who is worthy
By Kayleigh Fraser ✨about a year ago in Poets
Different
I’m sorry I’m not who I was then If you’ve known me long enough You’ll know you’ve never met the same person twice Is it a virtue or a vice
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
PLEASE DONT FORGET ME
Please Don’t Forget Me Please, don’t forget me, For you always used to remember me, And call me your horse. I’m the free stallion, the king of the road, The conqueror of bondage, the supporter of freedom, And the dream of chivalry.
By Ali Sadeek Ahmedabout a year ago in Poets
Poetry is a whisper
My feelings flew away and illusion is a branch Imagination does not accompany feelings I write poetry, and my imagination has departed
By Kisama Riyo about a year ago in Poets
Blood Crow
Look upon us See our scars From battles past Yet, we are the ones that last No false platitudes Told we have bad attitudes
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets