Limerick

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
The Desolate Evening
The Desolate Evening A sorrowful evening, a grieving heart, and endless solitude, Everywhere stretches the boundless emptiness of loneliness.
By Muhammad Waseem about a year ago in Poets
What Became Of You ?
What became of you, with your wisdom of life? Why are you silent now? Tell me, what became of you? You parted ways, chasing new destinations, I lost my path after losing you; what became of you?
By Muhammad Waseem about a year ago in Poets
Create a portrait where I smile while I weep
A Portrait of Tears and Smiles Create a portrait where I smile while I weep, Let sorrow be expressed, but not as a spectacle to keep.
By Muhammad Waseem about a year ago in Poets
You’ll never return, I had to say
You’ll never return, I had to say, You went far away, as I searched each day. For centuries, in valleys, I waited for you, You came for a moment, smiled, then I searched anew.
By Muhammad Waseem about a year ago in Poets
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
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
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
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
The Bag of Various Bones
There once was a martyr named Jones, Lost in a forest filled with pinecones. His release would suffice, With a few, small, sacrifice,
By Amos Gladeabout a year ago in Poets
A Veteran's Day Limerick
“The Veterans Day National Ceremony is held each year on November 11th at Arlington National Cemetery. The ceremony commences with a wreath laying at the Tomb of the Unknowns and continues inside the Memorial Amphitheater with a parade of colors by Veterans’ organizations and remarks from dignitaries. The ceremony is intended to honor and thank all who served in the United States Armed Forces.” – VA.gov
By Joel Kravitz The Limerick Guyabout a year ago in Poets