Baskadia

Sunrise

Remember when the sun rises, and how beautiful it was that morning, It started to soar higher, to meet its delightful beginning. But not for us, have you forgotten? the daybreak knows why we parted, and how we ended things between us, It was the ending that got me unsettled. As much as the sun knows most of it, It is aware of my fear and shock, however, I understand myself more deeply, for it doesn’t know how much I want you back. So when the sun greeted the morning with joy, and welcoming it to

poem

sad love poem

Grace

Grace, A Gift from Up Above A Gift from the Kingdom of Love A Blanket of Protection and Compassion Fills the Heart with Joy and Protection A Picture of Beauty, A Smile of Kindness A Soft Embrace with Open Arms A Butterfly more Precious than Gold It Gives us Hope to Go On Grace, Our Constant Companion It Guides Us through Life with Ease It’s a Gift of Unconditional Love To Help Us Achieve our Life Goals.

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

Crying soul

In the tender whispers of twilight's embrace, A sweet poem weaves its grace, For a little crying soul to find solace, In verses that gently mend and erase. Through teardrops that glisten like stars above, Love's essence whispers with gentle love, In each line, a warm hug to enfold, To heal the heart, so weary and cold. With stardust ink and moonlit rhyme, The poem sings a lullaby sublime, Embracing sorrow, embracing pain, A comforting balm to ease the strain. Oh, little soul, don't you weep, For

Journey of Life

Our life is a journey There are curves and roadbends A pattern or hello-goodbye-hello We wind in and out of each other's lives Yet each one of us is an instrument To chisel out each other edges To become like a gold tested of fire Our potentials are on the process of becoming To search for our place to live a better world The essence of humans life Is throughly cultivated by experiences Life is full of surprises and challenges Through time our personhood develops Life's cycles and stages change

"Celestial Waltz: The Northern Lights' Delight"

A Poem About Northern Lights

In His Life, I'm Not the Female Protagonist

In a world of tales, where each heart's a book, A girl believed, with a hopeful look. That everyone's the lead in their own rhyme, She, too, the star in her own sweet time. Through life's story, she danced with glee, Her spirit waltzing, wild and free. She thought, "I'm the main, the shining one, In the story of life, I'm second to none." But one day, a twist, a plot untold, A love story with edges rough and bold. She glimpsed his eyes, a captivating sight, Yet, in his world, she was out of sigh

poems on godhood

. "Ascension's Call" Mortals yearn for godhood, with hearts ablaze, Seeking powers divine, through endless maze, In their quest for immortality's embrace, They climb the mountaintops, seeking grace. But mortal frames cannot contain the might, Of gods who dwell in realms beyond our sight, Yet in their striving, mortals find their worth, For in the pursuit of godhood, they unearth. 2. "The Divine Within" In the depths of mortal souls, a spark ignites, A yearning for godhood, a celestial flight, Se

There was a country

Once! There was a country That held hope for her people Whose leaders were the youths role models Whose people were the most disciplined Whose military were the nation's pride Whose students were the nation's erudite Whose economy prospered and flourished Yes! There was a country Whose neighbours were envious Whose citizens were contented Whose environment was friendly and peaceful Whose military strength, Was nothing compared to her neighbour's Yet she was satisfied and happy There was a countr

Echoes of the past

Enjoy your self

Poetry: Madness

This poetry is a satire on Shakespearean plays and also an urge for writing like him.

SATURDAY

A narrative poem of how my Saturday-morning went

You Are My Home

Home is not a place but the one we cherish.

A poem on poverty.

The poem depicts the harsh realities of poverty, highlighting its grip on communities and the struggles faced by those affected. However, it also emphasizes the resilience and hope found within individuals, calling for unity and support to overcome these challenges and build a better world.

The Blind Old Guitarist

037 Along the dirty pavement of an old city, where each dark alleys are covered with peasants begging for alms. The blind old guitarist were cramped in the corner most of the alley, gently strumming his worn guitar, creating harmonies to get some dimes. The melody travels along the cacophony of voices, masking the reality behind the poor and dark passage. The music lives behind the curtain, overlooked by their velvet and silk dresses. T'was a horrible reality where poverty is their entourage. Th

Conqueror

With sword in hand and heart afire, The conqueror sets out to win, To build an empire, reach higher, And prove that he's a force within. He marches on with steadfast might, Through deserts, mountains, raging seas, His will unbroken, shining bright, He sets his sights on victory. He battles foes with skill and grace, And never once does he retreat, For he is driven by the chase, Of glory and of triumph sweet. He claims new lands with every step, And builds a legacy so grand, His name a legend, ha

Behind My Pillow

My world is peace My world is harmony My world is growth My world is joy My world is love My world is the future My world is my dream. Freedom comes after You find what enslaved you. In a realm of no pain Only inner peace That clover around your imagination Back to present Stained mud imitates blood Role play is left Unattended to, TV's no Longer have a function The movie is right in front of your pupil For now the apocalypse Has not yet come. Back to my pillow In nights of after Struggled days,

Vibrations

"The lips of wisdom are closed, except to the ears of understanding"

Again The Second Coming

✓ Again The Second Coming ✓ [ Inspired by ©W. B. Yeats "The Second Coming" ] ✓ Improve English @ rovlo.blogspot.com