Ode

An Imperfect Journey
A cold sea of tears in the eyes, There is a cold ash of kindness in the heart that never dies. I had settled the dream of this beautiful world in my eyes, never letting the dark shadow of deceit rise.
By Karan w. about a year ago in Poets
Wither and Fade
Don’t give me things that wither and fade Give me the grass that has strong blades Give me a song that draws me hither Don’t dither and doubt
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
washing machine repair
He comes home a crewless ship, beached on wood planks and rocks, boots dragging seaweed on sandy carpet. No shoes in the home! but it’s too late; waves have engulfed the ship; it is swaying and virtually gone back
By souhilaabout a year ago in Poets
Succinct
It started with a smile Sealed with a wink Oh, to be succinct How do you put all your love into one day When it’s as broad as a rainbow
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Why humanness in its virtue fails
Grieving through the breathing crevices of my mourning soul, I propelled through piercing glances of the ones who chose to score their goal.
By Hridya Sharmaabout a year ago in Poets
After the Conflict
The dust settles, a shaky ceasefire in the kitchen light, the air gritty with unspoken regrets, yesterday’s words like shrapnel
By souhilaabout a year ago in Poets
Second-Hand Clothes
Worn, and stitched to keep spare change in place. These are the remnants of another’s spirit– one’s story, yours. Where life existed, becomes memories exhausted, enough to let go. I receive them gladly because I know they are all you can give at this moment in time.
By H. J. Levonabout a year ago in Poets
Impactful Windows
First the room is tenebrous in twilight corners that seem etched with charcoal. I ponder what these gray stone walls
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
Prancing Lion Dream Poem
In the area of inventive expression and poetic movement, few pieces capture the creativeness quite just like the Prancing Lion. This masterful advent, which seamlessly blends the raw strength of nature with the sensitive artwork of dance, has turn out to be a symbol of grace and power in cutting-edge artistic circles. Today, we'll explore the depths of this fantastic piece and understand why it maintains to captivate audiences global.
By K. B. about a year ago in Poets
Your command is strange,
You look happy, Asking for help, that’s nothing new. Be ashamed. You ask for assistance with a hardened, intoxicated heart. You’ve killed peace, even the doves aren’t spared from you, And the actions of the vile have caught up with you. And blood spilled, it’s impossible, To ask for help when your heart isn’t in peace. Swear an oath, your actions are cowardly, You’ll see the result on a day of darkness, Black and foul, like your face, not in peace, Your actions are cowardly, The result is the death of peace, Children die, and boys are forced into sleep. Your actions are cowardly, Threats and killings every hour in revenge, You know exactly, look, your actions are those of the vile. Your command is strange, your actions unbelievable, Asking for help? Once upon a time, You had a soul, and now you are ashamed, your actions are cowardly, You are a being, a cancer, a demon, Wandering with hopes that spread, erasing peace, But my God sees perfectly, And He is peace, and never sleeps, And you will have your day, O oppressor, Wait for the day of revenge. Be ashamed. All the people are fighting for peace, They work and produce with respect for it. Your actions are unbelievable. All of humanity, east and west, are asking for a pact of peace, Be in your state and consider, in the course of time, There was oppression and chaos, and there was no stability. Why is there war and people dying, While you are happy and proud of the actions of the vile? You look happy, Killing here and striking there, even far away, He got betrayed by you after safety. You’ve done barbarity, you’ve planned it. And the circle must always keep turning, Breaking down foundations, Weak foundations from its injustice or even by the strength of time. Your actions are devilish. Your threads love you, and with your deceit, you burn in flames. My Lord is kind, with His wisdom, No matter how long it takes, the days will pass. Many things you think of, There were once mighty beasts with great importance, But in the end, their power faded, Their flame dimmed and extinguished, And they were lost in the grasp of time. A history is written with His wisdom, Without their own history, through His words and actions.
By Ali Sadeek Ahmedabout a year ago in Poets
Fatherhood is Never Just
Fatherhood is never just Fatherhood, it’s partner hood, and son hood And some good comes Sometimes we just need to see that fatherhood is never just
By Dan-O Vizziniabout a year ago in Poets
Choose: Die on My Chest or in My Poems
I have given you a choice, so choose between dying on my chest or atop the pages of my poems... Choose love or the absence of love, for cowardice is to not choose at all...
By Iron-Pen☑️ about a year ago in Poets