Blackout
The Haunted Night
The storm came out of nowhere. What had been a calm evening turned into a chaotic downpour, forcing Rajib to pull over his motorbike. The rain blurred the winding road, and the distant flicker of a village light was his only hope. Soaked and shivering, he pushed his bike through the muddy path toward the settlement.
By Israt Jahan Anikaabout a year ago in Poets
If It Were in My Power…
If It Were in My Power… If it were in my power, I’d build a city, a magical tower. Where the flutter of doves in their gentle flight Would turn life’s song into endless delight. Where jingling breaths, like anklets, sing, And senses soak in the hues of spring. Where the moon would never fade or wane, And moonlight’s fabric would gently sustain The barren souls of a thirsty earth, Clothing their hearts with endless worth.
By Muhammad Waseem about a year ago in Poets
If sculpting is your art, O craftsman, Shape my face, my body, and my soul with your hand.
If sculpting is your art, O craftsman, Shape my face, my body, and my soul with your hand. Turn water into glass for me, if you can, Or cleanse this mirror of its rust and sand.
By Muhammad Waseem about a year ago in Poets
