Baskadia

Words

Like an infectious disease at bodily opening floating inside like aromatic scent at nostrils, that is how the sound wave travels through ears processed and integrated in the brain and words manifest. Once altered cannot be retracted so they manifest. Like a virus in the system  emotions are corrupted. Leaving the permanent mark through the thoughts, doubt and worry are some of the output and proof, depending on magnitude in input reflects output. Like radiation harmful words are poisonous. To th

Hemotional

People who feel are drooping flowers. The tiny ones that the rain beats with it's fists. Anger comes with it's boiling rage. Then the mouth speaks: dropping eggs that are broken alongside many hearts. The sadness follows and then it covers you like a warm duvet. It is like a bodyguard that protects you and pushes everyone else away. When laughter comes, it comes with fear that the good feeling is your salary: it never lasts. What a price to pay for being so sensitive, bending like the plant in t

LOVE OR FEAR

Poetry

Marriage or Obligation

Often in Africa, or in many parts of the world People don't marry because they are actually prepared, But because the circumstances led them to do it as if it were something better in the world. Was it marriage or an obligation? Since people are already united! Getting married because the parents made it or because there are no conditions for survival, In an insecure environment, full of uncertainties about the future That forces someone to choose the path of marriage to stop the influence of in

Cry, it's never a Crime

Even if cry last for the night,joy cometh in the morning

Hell’s Angel

I fell like tears on a rainy day Down to my doom and awakening Enlightened with feelings afresh and motives anew I have now evolved into self discovery Broken and reformed into a masterpiece One Pablo would be proud of It is in this new form that I dare to challenge all boundaries and conformity for I have met with the bulls eyes I’ll indulge you once or twice But where were you before my rebirth

Sad-poetry

Her Name is Love

Short Poem about Love

mushroom cat / GPTJ-6B

A little cat with a tiny head crawled under the rug, But when the woman bent to pick it up, it had vanished. A dog and a cat in a mushroom and it makes a very good cake How do I get to the moon?😺🌒 generate by GPTJ-6B Generate Short Poem along with an Illustration

A sad poetry picture

RESPECT

Don't command respect but persuade respect. Don't disregard it but appreciate it. Don't take it for granted but rather take it as a privilege and value it . Cos they respect you doesn't mean they should be oppressed. Cos they respect you doesn't mean they should be taken as a fool. Cos they respect you doesn't mean they should be used as a slave. Cos they respect you doesn't mean they should be treated as trash. Respect they say is reciprocal ,believe and accept the fact. Don't always exact aggr

JOURNAL OF A WHORE

It was on a bright weekend early afternoon. As I remained there ringing the doorbell tenderly, somebody pulled my pants. "Mom, mom, convey me." Cried a minuscule sharp voice. I really wanted no heavenly messenger to let me know what its identity was. Obviously, it was the voice of my three years of age little girl. If by some stroke of good luck she knew how chaotic it was lifting her up as she had put on a ton of weight as of late. Perhaps more than her age mates however at that point, a mother's affection wouldn't allow me to overlook the little one, regardless of whether I needed to. "Great sky," I murmured, feigned exacerbation, and scooped her up in my arms.

LOVE IN RELATIONSHIP

it more of spoken words

THE THIRD WORLD POLITICIAN

Here he is, The big man. He flaunts his money, To show the masses His affluent and wealth. And the rumours spread, That the big man, Was not a businessman. "But what could he be". They wondered. Which occupation, Made you as rich as a businessman? It was not carpentry, Nor was it bricklaying, Or blacksmithing, Then suddenly we knew! The big man, Was nothing but a politician. An occupation of the privileged Who never got tired of their occupation, Who did more bad than good, Whose personal intere

OH MORNING!!!

Morning, a kind of fresh start reforming what seized to exist, peace. As for me I'll say my morning my peace.

Alone

The unfinished memories

ORIGIN

ORIGIN by Symply Raven. Appreciating African culture through poetry. Authenticity is our root

A Drifted Tale

002 Once upon a time, our love was blazing like the sun- warm, comforting, and suitable. Until the world played with spear and gun. We broke apart, we drifted along the brawl. We first met in front of your house's lawn, now, we end it tragically at that same place. Promises gone by, leaving feelings of affliction. All will be in memories, all those hugs and kisses. Time, distance, communication, and presence, we lose it all, and we slowly grew apart. In our promised place I felt your absence, re

Pain with pleasure

There are no clouds, there is no storm Will it rain? Inside of my heart, ratial riots? Oh my heart! Why are you beating for the love with the person who I don't know before? Which the broken relationship of the distant born, Will follow me beyond the birth? Birth is not true, I found it now because of you. What is your root? And, I fell in love with you, But I still don't know what is your name is! Only your thoughts are buried in my neurones, What can I do?

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Writing Poetry:MD Shajalal Hossain