Baskadia

"Verse's Embrace: A Journey Through Poetic Wonderland"

"Explore a world of poetic beauty, where words dance and emotions come alive. Discover love, solace, and understanding as you wander through this enchanting realm of verse."

My Mother Has A Photo Album In Heaven

My mother doesn't read books, she reads people who read books. like she read my cousin who was pregnant at 16 because she tasted lemon dewdrops in early sunrise and the bittersweet experience of motherhood never left her palm like a written note. my mother could read fever just by placing hands on the forehead of her child, you could say she was the MOM in therMOMeter because my mom never kept us in a room temperature... to say, she didn't want us to get spoilt, she tightened up every corner tha

America

This is a poem about America, past, present, and where the author wonders about the countries future as impacted by the proliferation of TV. (and now, by extension, social media) Written by my father in 1990, posting with permission after his passing.

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

Give Your Black Boy A Flower

Your black boy Is a garden of stumps, his heart is rooted out of a fertile ground for you to plant a dream on his Humus skin. he Is a machine Void of human language. He understands solely, his breath on your skin and the sweet nectar of your pineapple lips. Again, he is an illustrative painting of your dad. He watches you grow Into his arms like sweet alyssums sprouting in early winter as he lays on your flower bed nurturing his lovelessness into something. And of all that he deserves... the ros

Mysterious memories

It's an original script written by me. In this poetry, the writer references to the power of memories and compares the drops of raining with memories and the fear of losing his beloved concerns the writer. In the end, As raining comes to an end and memories disappear. Then the mind becomes colourless.

Overwhelmed

i wrote this poem a while ago

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

The New Modernism Fate

This poem is written by Jennifer Dowson from United States of America. Poet's photo is attached with the poem. 🔥

Summer breeze

The winter comes, In the disguise of a rainy day. I felt so cold, I can't make you stay. You gave me, a short-time warmth. a love I thought, would stay in my arms.

The points accounts only when, millions others, follow now and then

Let me spit these rhymes first, before I get, to the points, and topic worst, Then the pick, of your crimes, sicking artist, to rehearse, From the core, sweating pore, swearing shore, with the daily chore, To study, with a buddy, for a lady, to be daddy, and be quite shady, With the quiet passion, tearing nights, with compassion, wearing whites, onto mansion, Gearing diet, with a pension, while hearing, me right from, the pension, Cheating the bloody, diddy tension, to beat the Jade e-invasion,

The Echo Of Me

Is the person reflected in the mirror truly a version of yourself? Or are they merely a figment of your imagination? This piece touches on the subject of finding the best version of one's self in a world filled with doubt and dreams.

Love

U don't have any clue, How much I love you!! To me u just sound like a cuckoo!! With you love always feels true !! Your face is my most favourite view!! I still feel bad that our first kiss is due!! Now for the rest of our life promise me together we will grew!! Into the most perfect duo!!

THE MOON'S REFLECTION

022 The mood above is as calm as always, the exact opposite of my heart's beatings. Its reflections on the clear waters make me feel closer to its bench, so close and just within my reach. And yet, it was far and beyond me, too far and impossible to hold his regime. I loved the moon, the calm and serene moon. But it was too much, too deep for me to atone. It would always belong somewhere, somewhere only the likes of it can enter. And I would just continue to look up at its supremity, ignoring th

When I Close My Eyes

A poem written from the depth of my heart in hopes of reaching the bottom of yours.

G O N E

If one day I come to die, don't hold back your laughter. Don't cry my wounded soul. With a smile on my lips I would have left. Tell mommy that her baby is far in heaven but I would still like her. I am an officer trained as a leader. The example, I gave, I inspired them. It's not beautiful to see the war, it marked me. But my beloved never abandoned me. Still by my side she even gave me a baby. Even if I didn't have time to educate him. I'm counting on you to take care of our Baby boy. I didn't

Exploration

Wild dreams Busting bubbles Mind filled with movie fantasies Opening doors towards the impossible I called her insane Yet she said deep within lies a fairy Who still believes in miracles Wants to explore the galaxy Marvel at the blue sunset of mars Visit the most serene gardens on Earth And wander a little further beyond the milky way Go a little bit too close to a black hole horizon Crashland into an alien planet Find a star shining brighter than sirius And maybe one day travel through parallel

IF HEAVEN HAD VISITING HOURS

If heaven had visiting hours, I would talk to God like I talk to myself, I want to see him shrug when I tell him I'm losing faith. I want to watch him stay quiet for a while, and say, God? What's on your mind? If heaven had visiting hours, I would take a stroll with Jesus when I feel depressed, I want his hands on my shoulder when I pour out my heart so I can look up in his eyes and say, you feel me right? cause friends are supposed to feel each other. If heaven had visiting hours, I wish we cou

What Lies In Advance?

New poetic prose. Rate it...

Poetry

A compilation of the poems I wrote throughout the years