Baskadia

Fruitfulness Abounds

A bounty of nature's gifts, so sweet and so round. A cornucopia of colors, from yellow to red to brown. Fruitfulness abounds, in the garden and in the trees. A feast for the eyes, and a treat for the bees. A harvest of flavors, from tart to sweet and mild. A feast for the senses, for young and for old. Fruitfulness abounds, in the orchard and in the field. A feast for the palate, for the hungry to yield. A blessing of nature, for us to enjoy. A reminder of life's abundance, for us to employ.

Poem

Farewell

Lonely feeling with thoughts of mine

You are the night, I am the moon, The time we are meeting, It's a pleasure my dear.... As soon as I got the distance second, Is it love, I found it my love..... You are the bank, I am the wave which is touching you... Oh ... My heart beats like a foam, Oh my soul.... Tell the love, In the edge of my ear ... A single look is enough to die, My soul..... Another single look is enough to born....

Trust

Innocent until proven guilty, Things said can stay unruled, Rely on trust, more than you'd think, Or it's lonely, sad, and bleak. Trust follows you, it's your light Keeping doubts at bay at night. No matter what you're here to do, Trust will always pull you through. It's a backbone, a comrade Leading the way, less afraid, Trust tests the depths of our faith, Struggles, but never too late. Believe in others and be, Loyal, honest, and free. A heavy bag for never seen, But there's strength in trust

Soul

if you have ever walked crying in the rain if you have ever screamed with no sound at the top of your lungs if you have ever had a very deep wound with no rushing blood to show if you have ever felt your heart fall within your chest then I know your storm I know your song Even though I may not know your story Our souls though different they are one and the same

A shoulder to cry on

A shoulder to cry on A shoulder to cry on is better than gold, In dark times  it gives energy to go on. Lights that were turned off  will be turn on while it comforts like a mother to new born giving hope and erasing pain of what is gone. A shoulder to cry on help you to mourn providing company until you set on new dawn. It understand why you cry and what you lost. It doesn’t intent to show off hence it never fall short and comes from the least expected with no cost.

Social media

People are use social media

Little Red Bird 🐦

Red bird, small and spry, Perched on window, pecking high. Tinted pane, it strains to see, A world beyond, so wild and free. But still it stays and taps with care, A faithful friend, so debonair.

Poem:feelings...

Poem: "Feelings " By (S. Shabeer) Feelings force me to cry, Makes me to joy, And also the feelings which compells Me to drop into the pool of affliction. My mind's notion is in motion, When realities smacking, Then heart and mind's combat begins, Which sundered me melancholy.

Mornin' Prayer

A time of peace, a time of grace To start the day with God's embrace A time to talk, a time to pray A time to thank Him for the day A time to seek, a time to learn To ask for strength for what we yearn A time to hope, a time to trust To seek His will and do what must A time to love, a time to care To share His love and show we're there A time to give, a time to share To show His grace and show we care A time to rise, a time to start To open up our humble heart A time to seek, a time to find The

Love

Love is something so surreal It's an indescribable feeling That, quite impossible to conceal It gives us a heart of steel Bonding us like a wheel Creating strong ties with every deal Love helps you to heal And gives you something to feel No matter if it is real It's a power so surreal It gathers people in appeal Filling them with a strong zeal One who finds true love Is surely blessed from above Giving more heavenly than a dove Love is something so surreal It's an indescribable feeling Which if

New week blessing

A time for new beginnings, A fresh chance for change, A time of hope and potential, Let this new week arrange. May times of joy and laughter Bring us out from our walls, And miles of memories made Drive away our sorrows. As the week unfolds its fortune, Let us be graced with good luck, In mind, body and spirit, Our paths can never be stuck. A blessing for a new week That our lives may be blessed, A chance to learn, improve and grow, And our worries laid to rest.

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

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

Overwhelmed

i wrote this poem a while ago

Poem: short

A piece of jerk Following around your work. So irritating That someone monitors your work, Moves and successes And you feel their stare. And glare. Well, who cares? I live my life the way I feel. Not bothered by what you assume of me. Cause assumption is not always the truth For I know my own reasons for actions I make.

The New Modernism Fate

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

Nature

Nature is a very good source of inspiration

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.

7:30 p.m.

A poem that could easily be a song about something that will never come back…