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
Beneath a golden veil of dusk’s embrace, Two hearts converge where fleeting shadows meet, Their cadence bound, as if by sacred trace,
By Printique Studiosabout a year ago in Poets
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.
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.
He doesn’t desire pearls in his tears, Nor does he crave the soothing breeze of heaven. He doesn’t long for a heart of gold, Nor for skin sculpted from moonlight.
By Karan w. about a year ago in Poets
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.
Deck the Norway Spruce with frosted baubles, as they catch the lights; Our minds fixed on festivity when the carols sing low;
By Caitlin Charltonabout a year ago in Poets
Introduction I do this quite often. I enjoy potatoes in moderation but some people don't like them. They are discussed here:
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Poets
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
Introduction This morning I went outside in the dark, looked up and saw the Morning Star (possibly Mercury or Venus, Ishtar is associated with Venus) and it made me think of someone special.
The road is lonely when night falls deep, An endless stretch where shadows creep. Each step I take feels hollow and cold, A path of stories long untold.
By Melanieabout a year ago in Poets
Contentment is the blessing we seek, The joy in knowing that we are complete. It's the peace in what we have now, The quiet acceptance of life somehow.
By LASZLO SLEZAKabout a year ago in Poets
