Baskadia

The poor grape seller boy(poem)

In the scorching heat, a boy stands tall, Selling grapes, his dreams he recalls. A humble soul, with calloused hands, He weaves his way through life's vast lands. Each grape he holds, a story untold, Of resilience and hope, so bold. With every cluster, he shares a taste, Of perseverance and strength embraced. Beneath the sun, his spirit shines bright, A symbol of courage in the harshest plight. Through dust and toil, he perseveres, A silent poet amid life's tears. In his presence, a lesson we fi

Strength

Strength is not the ability to lift heavy weights, Or to run a marathon without stopping. Strength is not the absence of fear, Or the ability to always win. Strength is the ability to pick yourself up, When you've been knocked down. Strength is the ability to keep going, When you want to give up. Strength is the ability to face your fears, And to overcome them. Strength is the ability to be yourself, And to not let anyone else define you. So if you're feeling weak, Remember that you are strong.

No Goodbye

My head became buried deep in her neck, The odor of her hair delivered consolation To my as soon as-lonely heart...

Alone

In the silence that stretches in the darkest night, My solitude gently whispers to me. A melancholic atmosphere adorns my heart, Like a sorrowful melody that lingers. Within the profound stillness, I contemplate in eternal solitude. Like a lone star in the vast sky, I am trapped in an untouched world. In my solitude, I feel the vibrations of my heart, Flowing in an unheard rhythm. Darkness surrounds, yet I do not feel alone, For my solitude is a true companion. In solitude, I encounter my true s

Love sad poem

In the hush of a lonely heart, a melody plays, A bittersweet tune of love's bygone days. We built a castle, grand and tall, But the wind whispered secrets, and watch it fall. Your touch, a ghost, lingers on my skin, A haunting reminder of what has been. Laughter's echo mocks the silent room, Empty promises blooming in the gloom. Each whispered word, a piercing thorn, Memories like embers, forever worn. I close my eyes, a teardrop slips away, Lost in a love that could not stay. The moon, a witnes

Poem

Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.

POEM

Human Life is so Ephemeral,... Every man should live Life to the Fullest, doing the right thing.

Dreams Coming True

Dreams ain't meant for the shelf. They are to come to reality. Its coming true brings joy to the soul and fulfillment to the heart.

Hate's Painful Grasp

Shrouds of darkness blocking out the light An unrelenting scourge with a voracious appetite It's cobweb of hatred entangles our hearts Devouring us piece by piece, slowly tearing us apart. We see it in the streets and we feel it in our fears It is a feeling that brings pain and tears We can't ignore it, try as we might As its powerful grip keeps us in its sight No matter how hard our efforts, hatred won't be quashed It will continue looming large until our trembling hearts have crashed So may we

Never Fade Away

Did you lose the book That held my phrases Or carelessly change it for the moonlight?

Pretty girl

Pretty girl Why so much pain Why does she feel powerless Why is God not helping her Her relationship life is wreaking and life itself is the worst Pretty unlucky girl Sweet and gentle, yet luck is never on her side To make ends meet she goes through pain. Pain knows her Tears know her Pretty unlucky, so graceful and full of life, but life is never on her side Should she unlived herself Will it stop the pain and suffering So fucked and depressed she is wondering the world alone Don't know what an

A poem for the love of nature

Whispers of leaves, rustling in the breeze Sunbeams dance, through branches' gentle ease A brook's soft song, meandering to the sea Nature's symphony, wild and carefree In forest depths, secrets are revealed Ancient wisdom, in stones and trees concealed The wind's whispers, tales of days gone by Echoes of wonder, in the natural sky Let us wander, where wildflowers bloom And in nature's embrace, find our heart's room.

The haunting of are self

I write only of what ik and feel. So i pray that may oneday god will send an opportunity my way that will allow me to provide for my family befor i lose my self.

The Cost of War

The sky is filled with smoke and ash, The ground is stained with blood and tears, The cries of the wounded echo in the air, The screams of the dying fill our ears. The cost of war is too great to bear, The price of freedom can be so high, The lives of the brave are taken away, The families of the fallen left to cry. The heroes of our nation are gone, Their sacrifice will never be forgotten, Their courage and strength will live on, Their memory will remain in our hearts forever. The cost of war i

My first love dairy..

In days of old, our love did gleam, A whispered promise, like a dream. Though now we've parted, hearts once entwined, The memories linger, sweet and kind. A chapter closed, yet love remains, In hidden corners, it sustains. Though paths diverged, and tears were shed, You'll forever dwell in my heart's homestead.

Poetry

Poetry (derived from the Greek poiesis, "making"), also called verse,[note 1] is a form of literature that uses aesthetic and often rhythmic[1][2][3] qualities of language − such as phonaesthetics, sound symbolism, and metre − to evoke meanings in addition to, or in place of, a prosaic ostensible meaning. A poem is a literary composition, written by a poet, using this principle. The Parnassus (1511) by Raphael: famous poets recite alongside the nine Muses atop Mount Parnassus. Poetry has a long

Poem

Love

Morning Delight

How beautiful is every morning

Poem:feelings...

Poem: "Feelings " By (S. Shabeer) Feelings force me to cry, Makes me to joy, And also the feelings which compells Me to drop into the pool of affliction. My mind's notion is in motion, When realities smacking, Then heart and mind's combat begins, Which sundered me melancholy.

Blackbird

How sweet the harmonies of afternoon: The Blackbird sings along the sunny breeze His ancient song of leaves, and summer boon; Rich breath of hayfields streams through whispering trees; And birds of morning trim their bustling wings, And listen fondly, while the Blackbird sings. How soft the love light of the West reposes On this green valley's cheery solitude, On the trim cottage with its screen of roses, And murmuring mill-race, and the wheel Its bubbling freshness—while the Blackbird sings.