The existential threat of living every day creates plaguing conditional thoughts of why; when parts of you, you once loved have passed away. To grieve the loss of parts of yourself holds no promises of perfect healing. People may tell you to wait out the dark because light is inevitable like the rising of the sun but what they fail to say or remind you is that grieving the loss parts of you is gone and that you should try to love the broken pieces of what’s left.
By Cadma2 years ago in Poets
1. Bananas are berries, but strawberries aren't. 2. A group of flamingos is called a "flamboyance." 3. The shortest war in history lasted only 38 minutes between Britain and Zanzibar in 1896.
By mohamed hassan2 years ago in Poets
You are my guitar before and after the soulful music since during the auditory poetry you become still I wish I could touch your strings as you move to any music
By Patrick M. Ohana2 years ago in Poets
Under the cover of the night, where the stars dance, And the moon, in its splendor, advances to the lovers. Two souls meet, in silence, in balance,
By Hendrik SancheZ2 years ago in Poets
Where is four Oh, it is locked in a drawer Waiting to be opened How long will it stay there We will just have to wait and see
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Licking at the facade Worshiping a nameless god Only to realize All efforts will be forgot Break your back all you want
Initially, names were called in the desert of words Names were offered points and after that they vanished. The very first point that was called was a word comprised by someone that had no concept what it suggested when he jotted down it.
By Lightbringer 2 years ago in Poets
The balance of the heart and mind. In the dance of light and dark, we find, A chance to mend, to keep on spinning. With every dawn, a new beginning,
By Pam Zee2 years ago in Poets
In the heart of darkness, secrets lie, Beyond the stars, where dreams defy. Whispers of ancient tales unfold, In shadows deep, where legends hold.
She is born with a spark in her eyes She grows up with curiosity and wonder She learns from her parents and teachers She dreams of her future and possibilities
By Just Phemi 2 years ago in Poets
I, Barnaby Bumblebear, once king of the stuffed, Now reside in this box, dusty, forgotten, and cuffed. My fur, once plush, now matted and thin,
By Buzu2 years ago in Poets
In the labyrinth of life, we sometimes stray, Where familiar paths fade to shades of gray. Lost in the whispers of the winding way,
By Ashiii2 years ago in Poets
