Baskadia

Kilio Changu Mwajiriwa

Kwa kweli nina hasira, kwa yale unayotenda Wewe ulo na ajira, mesahau ya kalenda Wanipa chache mshara, uso fika siku kenda Nimechoka na kuimba, nilipe na nitaenda Mwezi umekamilika, hadi lini tasubiri? Mwajiri waajibika, waniumiza kisiri Hu ni ukweli hakika, moyoni waniathiri Nimechoka na kuimba, nilipe na nitaenda Nazivunja zangu sera, nizokuwa nimetenga Nipe wangu mshahara, labda jumba tajenga Nikuwapo na subira, waniona mi mjinga Nimechoka na kuimba, nilipe na nitaenda Wewe wacha zako pupa!,

Poem

Pitter-patter rain drops come to the ground Washing all the sins Pitter-patter rain drops Come to the ground Giving his bounties Pitter-patter rain drops Come to the ground Taking away all the sorrows Pitter-patter rain drops Come to the ground Spreading the happiness Pitter-patter rain drops Come to the ground

Speak to me

Speak to me, my love, with words that flow Like a gentle stream, soft and slow Tell me of your hopes and dreams, Of all the things that make you gleam Speak to me, my love, and pour out your heart Let the words you say be a work of art Let them be a beacon of light, Guiding us through the darkest night So speak to me, my love, and let your voice be clear For it is the sound that I hold dear It is the sound that brings me peace, The sound that brings me to my knees Speak to me, my love, and let y

The Tiny Stranger At George

One day at a pet shop, I met a man selling socks, For money he wanted to swap, But I really wanted some white fox. "Got any white fox?" asked I. "For that's how I'll spend my money." "No white fox here!" said the guy. He seemed to find it quite funny. "We've got some lovely crisps, I'll give you a very fine price." "I'd rather have some wisps." The man blinked rapidly thrice. The man seemed exceptionally energetic, And his manner was strangely amused. He wasn't what I would call electromagnetic,

You Are My Home

Home is not a place but the one we cherish.

Nature's Tapestry: A Love Poem

On this resplendent day so bright and fair, The azure sky a canvas for all to share. The sun, a blazing orb, doth bless and bestow, Its warmth and light on all below. The gentle breeze, a zephyr soft and mild, Doth bear the scents of blossoms undefiled. The flora, with colors bright and grand, A tribute to Nature's bounteous hand. The clouds that course and drift above, A tapestry woven by the hand of Love. The heavens bear witness true, To Nature's splendor and her sacred view. And lo, the verd

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.

KESSY 🌹

A little summary about a friend of mine 😅🌹

Distracted Poet

Dark poem

वो औरत है

This is a poem about the journey of a woman fighting against the social beliefs, breaking stereotypes and achieving her dreams, finding her true potential.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HUMAN LIFE! Poem

The days of a man passes like a whirlwind, but the power of life and death lies in his sayings... Humanity From the day a man is born, trouble and sorrows follows him/her. One lives to experience abundance whilst the other welcomes pain and poverty.

Love poem

Un doux baisé déposé Sur tes lèvres sucrées Une caresse remplie de tendresse Une silhouette de déesse Des yeux si éclatants Un regard foudroyant Des mains si douces Et un coeur immense; La femme de ma vie Mes doux rêves de la nuit Ma princesse.

Poem of year

Poem:new year As the clock struck twelve on New Year's Eve, We bid farewell to the year that had left. A year of challenges, a year of change, A year of loss, a year of gain. The end of 2022, a time to reflect, On all that's happened, all we've neglect. But as the new year, 2023, begins, We look ahead with hope, with new sins. The future is uncertain, but we'll take the lead, And make the most of what life has to give us, indeed. We'll face the challenges, and rise to the test, With resilience a

Zubair Tarar Pakistani Poet

Zubair Tarar is a Pakistani poet and writer live-in Vehari

I love you yet I feel more

I love you  yet I feel more. Ever since I laid my eyes on you something change inside my heart. I lost my reasoning, and be impulsive. When you appear I stagnate but  thinking of you I blast in bliss  . When you look at me I fall into a trap, of looking the most enchanting being, hence I shy and look away often. My strength just dissolve in your smile. I become sweet, soft and fluffy. There is something that I feel inside, but it become lost in translation. All I can say is I love you yet I feel

Grievance

A heavy weight upon my chest, It's like a stone, it won't be pressed. I try to breathe, but it's too much, I'm drowning in this ocean of such. I want to scream, but no sound comes out, I'm trapped inside this silent shout. I want to cry, but no tears will fall, I'm dry and empty, like a desert wall. I want to run, but my legs won't move, I'm stuck here, like a statue in the groove. I want to die, but I'm too afraid, Of what comes next, I'm so afraid. So I sit here, in this dark and cold, With my

Eclipse of Dreams poem

Eclipse of DreamsIn twilight's hush where shadows play, A silver veil gives birth to day, While whispers of the night retreat, Soft echoes of the stars’ heartbeat.The moon, a sentinel so bright, Beckons dreams from depths of night, A dance of light on velvet sky, Where dreams and hope in silence lie.In this serene, ephemeral space, The world finds its tender grace, As dawn’s first blush begins to sweep, A promise in the daylight deep.Yet as the sun ascends its throne, The darkness turns to whisp

Poetry lover

Sad poetry

The inescapable overdose of anarchy in W.B Yeats' poem, the Second Coming. By Youssef baddaj

An essay tackling the telling anarchy with which this poem is filled to the brim literally and figuratively.