Filthy

How can I tell you of my pain?
How can I tell you of my pain? It’s not a story, not so plain. Not a word I can simply write, Not a tale to recite tonight.
By Muhammad Waseem about a year ago in Poets
Frost Magic
Dream Books Sanjeevi Frozen verse Touching the tip of the season The moment the snowdrop is scattered, That first night was cold
By Sanjeevi Kandasamyabout a year ago in Poets
The Love
The Love One day, I met a lover on the roadside, And then a long conversation began, side by side. I asked him, "Why is your attire pale green? Why do your desolate eyes hold a watery sheen?"
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
Strawberry
How strange it feels, the weight of sweetness heavy on my tongue, a hint of strawberry, ripe and dark, lingering like a whisper meant just for you.
By Eva A. Schellingerabout a year ago in Poets
Mariah Carey
The beast slumbers for now When she rises no one is sure how There are always signs of her coming Leaves fall, the air grows cold
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Ice Cream
Your love is like ice cream on my tongue, melting slow, rich with every spoonful, a dance of sweetness and chill, soft and giving, yet daring in taste,
By Eva A. Schellingerabout a year ago in Poets
On the socioeconomics of being humane
The socioeconomics of humanness lies in the beauty of balancing the aspects of togetherness and isolation. In a world where life coincides with the duality of forces, oscillating between the forces of light and dark, beauty and hate, love and hatred, birth and death, humans are the most endearing and detrimental beings ever to exist. The prowess of intellect and communication, with the stellar mind that created the strides of evolution and lapses of civilization, is undeniably the most striking aspect of what makes humans the most resilient beings of them all.
By Hridya Sharmaabout a year ago in Poets
Slow, love, slow
“Not yet, my love, not yet”— but my hands ache to trace the lines where your pulse runs hot, to know the places only the night can find.
By Eva A. Schellingerabout a year ago in Poets
t.h.e. deliberations. Content Warning.
you tell me i am alive see monkey me see monkey you i listen, i be, i speak different things ask me why i will not live right
By ⸘jason alan‽about a year ago in Poets
Unread
I write poems that go unread Sometimes because I forget them before they escape my head Other times I write them But hide them instead
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Hard Times
Here come the hard times Here comes the return of the archons The harkening of our death Not the death of people But the death of our nation
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets