Sestina

A poem about your first diary in which you wrote your first poem
Darkness was impaired in its transgression as hope seemed to find its way, A startling realisation, a sight to behold, one might deem to say.
By Hridya Sharma9 months ago in Poets
The End
It was the beginning of the end In a breath he said Make it so And thus it was The archon looked upon all creation And in the sweep of hand
By Atomic Historian9 months ago in Poets
You Don’t Like Me
You don’t like me You only like the fiction in your mind You don’t know me You only show me the likable version of you
By Atomic Historian9 months ago in Poets
The Project
It’s an effervescent antidepressant When you can’t pay your rent Money whores stripping us of everything As we cling to our last life line to reality
By Atomic Historian9 months ago in Poets
A poem on a word from your native language, the one that becomes a door to a forgotten home, a childhood smell, a buried grief or a lost revolution
Beckoning my existence Uss rab par vishwas rakh, har manzil me tera saathi ho vo khuda, Kyuki Jado usdi meher hove toh tenu vo bhi miljaye jo tera nahi ho sakda!
By Hridya Sharma9 months ago in Poets
Gilded Desires
A world set on fire By gilded desire A covetous breath You spent so much time taking away my freedom You forgot to live
By Atomic Historian9 months ago in Poets
Bitter Greens
Bitter greens Slithering unseen Through my dreams A strenuous subcutaneous existence Complaisance in a crime of the mind
By Atomic Historian9 months ago in Poets
4/5/2025
Herbicides glide on snide remarks As snakes slither in the dark Venom spit from the mouths of the unfit and witless As we witness our destruction
By Atomic Historian10 months ago in Poets
3/30/25
Heavy is the grass that bends All glass breaks in the end Water washes all away The plants return in the light of day As mycelia conquer the hidden depths
By Atomic Historian10 months ago in Poets
Coffee
Cold, black elixir trickling down my throat Some days it is warm as its cream fills my gut Its energy powers my life Without it
By Atomic Historian10 months ago in Poets
Embracing Vulnerability: My Journey as a Young Poet on World Poetry Day
In the abyss of finding a voice that glares through the roof and blinds the pain, Through the seeping crevices of forethought syllables, my stance I pledge to gain.
By Hridya Sharma10 months ago in Poets
Self-Loathing
suffering as though bereaved. knowing absence and loss as deep fissures –– fractures in my bones. it’s a sentiment in this body that feels laced
By kp10 months ago in Poets