art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Where Is The Time Goes
I wish I had time to pause, to breathe, to truly live, not just exist. I wish I had time to tell the people I love how much they mean to me, before life pulls us in different directions. To sit with an old friend a little longer, to ask one more question, to laugh at one more joke, to hold on to moments that slip away too quickly.
By Astone Zulu2 years ago in Poets
"Whispers of a Wild Heart"
In the hush of the moonlit sky, Dreams take flight, they never die. Echoes dance in silent streams, Chasing light, chasing dreams. A rebel soul, untamed, so free, Roaring loud like a restless sea. Stars may fall, but I will rise, Fire burning in my eyes. Let the world watch, let them see, Greatness lives inside of me.
By SINDHI AHMED2 years ago in Poets
Whispers in the Forgotten Woods
Whispers in the Forgotten Woods In the silence of forgotten woods, Where shadows speak in mystic moods, A tale of souls, both lost and torn, Echoes softly from the forlorn. A princess, cloaked in time's embrace, Chasing dreams she cannot trace. Her heart, once bright, now fades to gray, A flame extinguished, led astray. Beneath the moon’s cold silver glow, She finds the secrets that trees bestow, Of love once pure, now trapped in time, Of worlds untouched by reason's climb. The fireflies hum a mournful song. As memories in whispers throng, Of distant lands where hearts once met, Now swallowed whole by deep regret. Yet still she walks, through endless night, Searching for a love, once pure, now light. Her tears are stars, her heart, a flame— Chasing what can never be the same. In these woods, where time is lost, She learns the price, the final cost— That love, though gone, will never fade, But lingers on in shadows' shade.
By SINDHI AHMED2 years ago in Poets
