Baskadia

The Empty Man

The poem is about me, and how I feel about myself at the moment. It’s about how people can have an expectation of a man, and how he feels when he fails it miserably.

A LETTER TO ALLEN

A poem from a lad.

Serene Calmness

Amidst the chaos of life's demands, A quiet calmness gently lands, A soothing balm to ease the mind, And leave the clutter far behind. The stillness of a tranquil lake, The rustling of leaves in a gentle shake, The hush of morning's early light, All bring a sense of peace so right. In moments of stress and strife, The gift of calm can save a life, A steady hand to guide the way, And lead to brighter, peaceful days. So let us cherish this serene calmness, And revel in its pure, sweet essence, For

Atheism : Truth is like poetry, and most people hates poetry

Atheism is a belief system that holds that there is no deity or deities. It is often contrasted with theism, which is the belief in the existence of a deity or deities. While atheism is not a religion, it is a worldview that many people hold and it has a long history. Atheism can be traced back to ancient Greece, where philosophers such as Democritus and Epicurus rejected the idea of gods and instead advocated for natural explanations for the universe and human existence. In the modern era, athe

Death on the Seas - Contemporary Nigerian Poetry

The world is seen by some as a sea (of efforts, hope, rewards) and everyone is seen as a sailor. Some sail through while some fall. This is a tribute to all those that fell.

Surrender.

Lights were out, she curled up in bed Against her will, her mind flooded with memories In the quiet night, she could hear her silent cries She shivered and her heart ached The sky was as black as soot, not a ray of sunlight Mixed feelings in an endless loop, like the figure of eight It took bravery to say goodbyes when feelings died. With the passing of time, she was pacified Time was all it took to mend the heart-or what was left of it Muscular yet fragile, like a poorly wired circuit So it was

"I" a poetry by Khwaab.

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What is Nature?

Nature, in the broadest sense, is the physical world or universe. "Nature" can refer to the phenomena of the physical world, and also to life in general. The study of nature is a large, if not the only, part of science.

Nature's Beauty

A new poem from an anonymous poet...

Almost lover

To my almost lover I lost all sleep Thinking of you You denied me just a second To get my mind off you My heart beats for you My ears crave for your voice My body wishes to be embedded on yours For eternity I want to be intertwined on you To get lost in you Till forever falls apart irrespective of What people think of me thinking of you this way I want you by my side To ever be the muse of my poetry The protagonist of my stories And perhaps the air that I breath I know am imperfect But I now wan

"Reflections of Inner Peace"

In the stillness of morn, as the sun first awakes, I find solace within, where tranquility takes. Reflections of inner peace begin to unfold, A sanctuary of serenity, like stories untold. In the depth of my soul, I find a sacred space, Where worries and struggles gently erase. A mirror of peace, reflecting inner light, I bathe in its glory, surrendering to its might. The chaos outside seems to fade away, As I immerse in this haven, day after day. Each breath a whisper, embracing my core, A gentl

Selenophile

Look at how the moon shines on a dark night Giving it her all--all her light Giving the humans light for a safe path Knowing real well that it was a borrowed light Oh poor Mr. Sun giving his all Giving all the light needed for us all As luna takes fame; for the light sol gave She became the hero for all human race Loved by every creature--every soul As if there aren't any cosmic god named sol

Prayer

O Power whose presence is our soul's delight, From whom alone our being and our life Flow forth, and unto whom at last they drift, Accept our prayer to-night. For we are weak, and bowed with many a care, Oppressed with grief, and troubled with the sin That doth defile our souls and make us bare Of all that makes us kin. We pray for those we love, who are to us More dear than life itself, and for the rest Of all Thy children, whom Thou dost not thus Forsake and desolate. We pray for peace on eart

The Splendor of the Sea | Poem

What do you think about this poem? An amazing one written by an anonymous poet. Read here...

Spittle at Dawn

There is a little bird Sited on the flower Sipping the pollens, Singing without ceasing: All flowers all over the world Are nothing but bushes Domesticated like animals To adorn compounds As if they aren't bushes. Blossoming only at dawn Anytime our father refuses To drop his spittle They all withal All over the world.

Would that, I wouldn't be, what I am.

Would that, I Wouldn't be , What I am. A tiny creature, a form I desire, Unnoticed, Unknown An oyster in a shell, deep in the sea, Eternal peace, away from abyss Would that I wouldn't be, What I am, A little child, a form I desire, Careless, Reckless, Would laugh out loud, Innocent desires. To be cared, to be loved, Some things I aspire. Would that I wouldn't be, What I am, An elderly person, a form I desire, At peace, No worldly desire. Seen my time, Lived enough, Seen enough, understood the pl

Beautiful Beyond Compare

A page from Superstar's Rhymes from The Songs of Lexicon about Belinda's true form.

A Friendship Like No Other; A Birthday Like None Other

A birthday wish from Lexicon to his best friend. Taken from Birthday Wishes of The Songs of Lexicon

Disobedience, a Rebel's Path

Treading the path of disobedience, A rebel's heart beats with defiance, Against the rules, the norms, the status quo, Their spirit unbroken, their passion aglow. They challenge authority with fervor, Their voice ringing out, bold and clear, For they refuse to be silenced or hushed, Their dissent, a fire that cannot be crushed. They question the laws that bind them, Seeking truth in a world of lies and mayhem, Their eyes see beyond the veil of conformity, As they carve their own path with audacit

He would be the Satan

New poem. Rate it...