Baskadia

DINNER TABLE

My old lover showed up out of nowhere unannounced Without an invite Without an apology My old lover showed up hoping to once more drink from my cup This wounded cub dragged it's self to my door hoping to be nursed back to health Because that is what I do I breath life into you at your lowest You came as a block of wood and I carved you into a marvel After my waters ran dry you left to chase waterfalls and when the drought hit you dragged yourself over to my table You have no business being here

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People are use social media

Icarus Reaching for Helios' Hands

013 With these wings, I fled, Escaping from the dark labyrinth. Flapping my hands to stay on the path, Like a tiny little bird who's finally free from its cage. With these wings, I saw Helios. Shinning like a billion embers of candles, Never flickering, forever warm. With amazement, I flapped harder, Feeling the euphoria of reaching you---maybe. Wax thawed, feathers fell, Father's voice echoed. Too late---I'm too late. Dazzled by Helios, trying to reach the unknown, Taking the risk, ended up wit

BEAUTIFUL MEMORIES

They are like dews, whetting the appetite of my heart, Making me smile and laugh, I am glad that I have them. They came in phases of my life a baby, a teenager, a young adult and as an adult. I remember Looking into my mother's eyes as she sings and gives me my bath, Running out of the room at the sound of 'Daddy is home' Running into his arms as he lifts me up, How I felt I could touch the sky. Watching mummy come home with other babies, And the house smelling of new born baby, Watching my fath

Love Story Poetry

Kabhi udaas ho jayo to btana mujhe fir se apna dil denge tumhe khelne k liye

Title: Embracing My Passions Poetry, Badminton, Books, Movies, and Music

the explore of passions that light up my life and inspiration.I have discovered a world of self-expression and comforts. poetry is to express depths of my emotions, thought. And I Enjoy of playing badminton. Books enhance my vocabulary, imagination and inspiration, learning and Movies are my comforters, providing solace teach me about life, I find solace in the embrace of music.transport me to a serene sea, where I can sit on the sand and let my imagination free, comforting me.

شام جو هي پهر

شام جو هي پهر Evening poetry in sindhi #sindhipoetry555

I'm just one (poetry)

They say I'm two, but I'm just one, A mystery to unravel, yet to be undone. I stand before them, flesh and bone, But they see two, a duality unknown. They question my existence, my very being, As if two souls within me are disagreeing. But I assure them, with every breath I take, That I am one, my heart and soul at stake. They point to my contradictions, my every flaw, As if two personas within me are at war. But I tell them, with every word I speak, That I am one, my identity not weak. For I am

Islamic

Achi batye sab tak pohnchye plz thanku

Tere bin season 2 Trending Pakistani drama

The Isolated Porcupine

A poem about little porcupine

By the river side.

By the river side, A peaceful retreat Where a gentle breeze blows And the sun's heat The birds chirping and singing, The trees blowing in the wind, The grass swayed in harmony, The water trickled in a gentle din. The sound of the river soothes my soul, The scent of the grass sweet and bold The sight of the river, so clear and blue, It's beauty like nothing I ever knew. The river side, A place of solace and peace, Where I can go to find A calming release

Poetry

Hard shell, thick skin Slow pace, leave a trail Thick trail, beautiful scenery Companionship of like mind Like wise carry each other through the thick bush Of unchattered, scary, dangerous, beautiful scenery Grow skin and hard shell on the road untraveled, slow leave a trail!

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.

Memories of the Past

The poem reflects on the joyous moments of the past, where life was simpler and people savored simple pleasures. The power of memory, music, and writing in capturing and expressing these experiences is evident in the poem's language and imagery. It's a testament to the way in which memories shape our perceptions and emotions, and how music and writing can be powerful mediums for conveying them.

Alone

The unfinished memories

ORIGIN

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